Happy Easter 2012!

A perfect, perfect day.

I couldn't ask for anything more.

Emma was so very excited when she came tearing into our bedroom, waking us up to tell us that "DA EASTUR BUNNY CAME!! CAN YOU BEWLIEVE IT, MAMA??" Seriously, it took everything i had not to laugh. Then, Emma looks out the window and notices the eggs outside in the back yard.

"MAMA!! DADA!! DA EASUR BUNNY WLEFT EGGGGSSS!!"

She was so excited. These must be the moments i'm suppose to remember when i'm barely hanging on, eh?

Robert helped her look for the eggs as i did the Mamaratizzi thing. It was so much fun to see how excited she was!

Yes, it was a very good day.

An Easter Flower.....

 

.....wow.

My little flower is growing up.

Enjoy the weekend, my friends....it looks like it's going to be a beautiful one!

Unplug, relax and love on your family and friends!

Easter Bunny Cake 2010

 

 

 

I made this Bunny Cake for Easter in 2010 for Emma. Really, it was the cutest cake ever but i'm thinking of maybe doing a different cake for this year.

Maybe a Dino Easter Cake?

I know, i know, a Dino Cake isn't very "Easter-like", but maybe we need a different kinda Easter tradition. You know, one that is just "ours". I think that i can safely say that no one that i know of bakes a Dino Cake for Easter.

Of course, i expect to meet some resistance to my fantastic idea in my husband. And maybe Emma will really want a Bunny Cake....

...but then, maybe not, and she'll think my idea is AWESOME.

We've had wonderful weather; i only hope that it holds out for the entire weekend. I'm going to hide eggs for Emma out in the back yard and this year, i've managed to find Dino Easter Eggs!

I know, i'm cool, aren't i?

hehee.....i can't stand how excited i am about hiding the Dino Easter Eggs!

Off to start planning.....today is Good Friday. It's amazing to realize just what Easter means, don't you think? It's not about Easter eggs, candy, chocolate or baskets. It's about being in awe of how Jesus gave his life for us, to save us from our sins. It would do all of us good to remember this....and not just on Easter.

Have a Blessed Easter, everyone....

Bad Blogger, BAD BLOGGER!

I have been the worst at keeping up lately with my blog. It's not for lack of things to blog about, it's been more about what to share and what not to share. When i started out blogging, i did it because blogging was faster for me than writing. I really didn't worry about what i wrote or what i shared as i wasn't worried about who was reading. Not only that, but most of the stuff i wrote about in the beginning was about me and what i thought. Writing about Emma is a joyous thing for me to do as i want to keep a record for her for later.

I wanted this blog to be a happy place.

And while life for us is mostly in a happy place, well, there are challenges that have come up. How much do i share? What do i share? How much do i share concerning Emma? Doesn't she deserve privacy? Shouldn't she expect it? But then i go back to keeping a 'record' of our lives and of her and i am stumped.

To share or not to share?

I go back and forth with this.

I still haven't decided entirely. I hate to admit this, but i'll probably ask my husband's advice on this one. For now, i've taken to writing in a notebook, but it's not the same for me. Blogging for me is a faster way to get my thoughts out, my ideas down so i can look at them and think about them. Writing in a notebook is cumbersome, to say the least. There isn't even a spell check and dang, i so need a spell check!

Every thing is okay, so not to worry. We just have some big challenges that we are working on with Emma; challenges that we didn't expect.

Ha.

That's funny.

Like anyone who has children expects challenges!

Geeze.

If you're into saying prayers (i hope you are....) please say one for all three of us. It would mean so much to me.

Why, Mommy?

Questions. A little child is full of them. One right after the other, sometimes, all day long. Some questions are easy. Some questions are a little tougher. Some questions, i have no idea what the answers are. For the most part, though, i had this question stuff under control. Yeah, yeah, yeah....sometimes i do make up answers to questions because i have no idea why "did Gwod make moles wiff no eyes, Mama?" or why "don't i haffa twail, Mama?". I always seem to have an answer that fits these kinda moments so i have been mostly proud of myself.

Moles don't have eyes because God was all out of eyes the afternoon that He made the moles so he gave Moles super-duper sensitive noses and ears; i'll do the evolution version later. Little girls don't have tails because God thought that puppies and kitties looked much cuter with tails.

Yeah. I know, i'm really good at answering questions, aren't i? I stun myself sometimes with the amazing answers i come up with! I just get more and MORE awesome with each answer, eh?!?!

Some of the questions that i've never worried about have been questions about Emma's adoption and her first family in Guatemala. Ever since coming home at 4 1/2 months, i've told her the story about how we came to be a family. I have mentioned her older brother and told her about the beauty of Guatemala. I've spoken about her first mother and her foster mother...as the years have gone by and Emma has grown up into a little girl, she really has not seemed very interested in hearing about this, instead preferring to hear about dinosaurs, elephants, lions and bugs. I often wondered if she just wasn't interested yet or if she was even really listening to me. Perhaps i started telling her of "her" story too early, i remember thinking to myself. But i wanted her to know of "her" story; it was important to me.

I remember hearing this somewhere: If you don't know where you came from, how can you ever really know who you are? I wanted this little one to know about her first mother, i wanted to tell her what i knew. Some facts will come later, as she's older, but i want her to know. Knowledge is power, and it's so important to know where you came from so you know not only who you are, but where you want to go.

Don't get me wrong, the first few times of telling her the "story of her", i was nervous. What made it easy, though, was Emma was a baby, a just a mere 4/5 months old when i started talking to her about this. I wanted to tell her about her so that when she did ask questions, i would be ready with the answers to those questions. No made up answers or funny answers had any place with this: the answers needed to be truth only.

I was ready. I had practiced all of the answers to the questions that i thought she would ask. I had this covered.

Yep, you see where this is going, right?

Last Saturday as Emma and i were eating breakfast together, it happened. She was busy eating Fruit Loops and i was munching on strawberries when she looked up at me and said:

"How come my bwrother lwives in Guatemala, Mommy?"

What?

I didn't practice for THAT question!

How could i forget THAT particular question?!?! Of course Emma would want to know the answer to that question! How did i miss practicing the answer to that question?

I swallowed my strawberry and looked at my little daughter in her footy-elephant pjs, hair still tosseled from last night's sleep. She's growing up into a beautiful little girl, full of spunk and laughter....how quickly little ones grow up.

I smiled at her and said "Emme, your older brother lives in Guatemala with your first mother, your birth mother. He is a little older than you, almost 4 years older. His home is in Guatemala because he lives with your birth mother."

Emma smiles at me and says "Otay, Mama. Can i eat your strawbarries?"

I made it a point to sit there with Emma at the breakfast table for a long while after that, to see if she would ask anything eles. Finally, i asked her, "Emma, is there anything else you want to to or ask me?"

Emma, in all seriousness, looks at me and asks, "I wouud wlike to know if dere is more strawbaries, Mama!"

I had to smile. She is a Stawberry Monster some days, eating every single strawberry we have. No more questions, though....until much later that night at bedtime.

"I wuff you, Mama. You're my Mama, aren't you, Mama?" she asks as she lets out a big yawn after we finished her prayers. Emma is barely awake as she asks me this...

What an odd question, i thought for a moment....then i realized where/why this question came from.

"Yes, sweet girl, I'm your Mama...." i said as i gently move her hair from her face with my fingertips. "But you have a first mother, your birth mother in Guatemala, too...."

"Otay, Mama....otay. Night. Dwon't let da bed bugs....." Emme doesn't finish her sentence as she slips off to sleep.

I stay there, on Emma's bed, watching her little chest rise and fall as she sleeps. Pachi is in her arms and her night time music cd plays in the background softly as i watch her. I pray over her, asking God to come into her little heart, to watch over her and guide her as she grows up and to help me be the best Mama i can be to her. I know that the door has now been cracked and there will be more questions, more serious questions about her, her birth mother, and her adoption for her to ask.

I pray that she always asks me or Robert what it is she wants to know....and i hope that she knows that nothing is off limits to ask. I need to be sure that she knows that and i need to be sure to give her space if she needs it. Emma sometimes needs space, and i need to remember that and be respectful of it.

Growing up and questions....those two things come together, don't they?

Funk-a-Dunk

I am one who is prone to getting into a funk. I don't even know if it should be called "funk" as the words "great depression" describe my mood so much better. It truly confuses me why i get this way. Yes, we have some issues here on the home-front, but they are none that can't be dealt with or that are life threatening. When i compare my issues with other issues that friends have or are dealing with, my issues start to look like little molehills instead of issues.

With this 'funk', comes the need (okay, the WANT) to just stay hidden and alone. If i could arrange it, an entire week under the bed covers would be divine. Of course, i can't arrange that, so i shuffle through the day, counting on my Diet Coke to kick me in gear. Isolating yourself isn't the smartest thing, you know, when you feel this way. Being alone just adds more fuel to the fire, it seems. Besides, to be honest, having others around would probably help...of course, it could make one nut up, also, lol.

Then comes guilt and shame. Guilt for being selfish for not living each moment to the fullest. Many folks would love to have the chance to live each day to the fullest. Lord knows my Mama would. Shame for being in this funk....i have so much to feel grateful for that i am ashamed for being in this kind of mood.

Perhaps it's the weather; winter isn't my favorite time of year. Maybe it's that i am missing my Mama even more than usual. Maybe it's due to the Power of Change course that i am taking.....truly, this course it the hardest course i have E.V.E.R. enrolled in. Maybe it is the combination of all three of these things. Whatever the reason, i am tired of feeling my heart ache.

So, at the suggestion of my husband, i am going to start a Grateful Journal again. I will write down 5 things every morning that i am grateful for. While i think that this sounds simplistic and won't work to pull me out of this, at this point, i am willing to try anything.

I'm also going to start walking with Pickles after i drop Emma off at school. She needs some good puppy exercise, and a walk sure couldn't hurt me. Perhaps being in the sun with fresh air will be something that helps....just as the Grateful Journal, it sure couldn't hurt.

Off to work on my new Grateful Journal....

School, Fun and Issues.....

I love this photo of these rocks. They are pretty rocks, with hearts on them. They have nothing what-so-ever to do with this post, but i love this pic anyway.

Growing up, i wasn't a fan of school. I was afraid of my own shadow, so that explains a lot of it. I wanted to be near my Mama. She and i had lived in Spain with my Abeula while my Dad was stationed in places we couldn't go, so it was pretty much the two of us, all of the time. Since she couldn't come to school with me, well, let us just say that i was not a very easy student to deal with. I wasn't a mean kid, just very quiet and kept to myself.

That's why i was happy when i saw that little Emma was comfortable around others. In fact, she loves being around others! This was a good thing, because if you're not scared of your shadow or your own voice, school can be a fun place of friends and of learning.

Or so i thought.

We have some issues.

Oh do we have some issues....

...but the good part of these issues seem to be that Emma's teachers are talking fondly of her, telling us that she is a sweet, smart, funny little girl who they hope they won't have to strangle before the year is out is trying her best to do better. Emma apologizes when she knows she's done wrong, which is a good thing. But i apologized, too, when i did something wrong. But in saying that, when i was in school, i don't remember:

~dinging little boys on the head with my book bag because they tried to hold my hand.

~throwing things in class, mostly because i didn't want any attention drawn to me

~hitting a teacher's glasses off her head and throwing them into the toilet

~doinking another child over the head with a dinosaur because she felt they weren't helping clean up

~laughing like a hyena at times when quiet/listening is called for

~burping and farting with another little boy to see who can burp/fart louder

You would think that i was raising Emma in a barn with the barn animals, yes?

Emma has issues listening and following directions. Keeping her hands to herself also seems to be an issue. It breaks my heart, though, when she tells me that she hates herself because she's 'bad' or that she doesn't like herself. I also hated hearing that she wanted to be called another child's name because she thought that this little girl was "good". This has lead to many conversations between she and i about the fact that "she" is not bad, her actions are, hating ourselves is never the answer and God made us as we are and He only made ONE of each of us. Thankfully, the past few weeks, we've had a bit of a break thru and she's had 3 smiley face days with notes of how well she's doing. I love seeing her so excited about "counting to ten" before she does something she is thinking about doing and getting a star stamp on her hand for a 'good job'.

I want Emma to love school and learning. I want to help her understand how amazing it is to learn something, to read good books and to do your best. I've started studying at the table for a class i am taking where she can see me and she'll come 'study', too. But most of all, i want to nip in the bud the talk/thought that she is 'bad', she 'hates' herself or wants to be someone else. That kind of stuff is truly destructive to one's soul and she's much too young for that...

I have some research to do, i think. If you are inclined to, please keep Emma in your prayers to become a strong, healthy little girl who loves herself just as God made her to be...

Every single word....

...is heard by little ears. Which, quite honestly, is a huge surprise to THIS Mama. I swear sometimes that no one (and i mean NO ONE, not even the puppy) is listening to me. I think that i just talk at times to hear my own voice, which strangely enough, is screaming out saying things that my Mama would once scream say to me. You know, the things that i swore i would NEVER, NEVER< EVER say to MY child?

Yeah.

Those things.

Anyhoo, this morning in the car on the way to school i heard Emma in the back seat chatting away to Pachi and herself. I love to spy listen in to these conversations between the two of them. I marvel at times at how grown up these little chats between the two of them are and giggle at the chats when the conversation turns funny. Stuff like "Pachi! NO FWINGERS IN DA NOSE!" or "Pachi! Don't say dat! We dwon't wlive in da barn!" makes me giggle hysterically to myself and totally makes the drive to school a memory to keep.

Every morning on the way to school, we drive by an old cemetery that has it's name above a big, wooden, spoke wheel. The wheel looks like an old carriage wheel, but at the top of the wheel, there is a piece that is missing, and it looks like it's broken. Emma has been fascinated with this wheel and cemetery. She wanted to know why "dat steering wheeel" was broken one morning and i explained to her that the wheel at the cemetery was a symbol of life. The round circle has no beginning or ending, but this particular wheel had a break in it to symbolize a beginning of life when we were born and the ending of life when we pass away and go to heaven to be with Jesus. The spokes could be the people we love in our lives, or moments that were special.

Of course, the questions from Emma started in rapid fashion. I like to think that i am prepared for these types of questions from Emma, but i just thought that some of these questions would happen later.


"Are we in da heaben too, Mommy?"

No, Emma, we aren't in heaven yet. It's not our time yet, sweetie...

"But WHY???"

Well, sweetie, i think God still has things for us to do on earth. He wants us to take care of others, love them, be kind...

"Wike when we took dose cookies to our fwriends?"

Yes, Emme, just like that. We still have work to do here on earth.

"Is dat where Gabby, Abuela, Ms. Jo are at?"

Yes, that's where Gabby, Abuela and Ms. Jo are at. They are in heaven with Jesus. I bet they look over us to help keep us safe.

"Why do we hafta stay hwere intead of goin' to heaben?"

Well, Emme, it's just not our time yet, Sweetie. We have things left to do, people to love on and take care of. It kinda works that way...

"Gabby, Abuela and Ms. Jo are wrealllly wuckly, Mommy! Dey are with God!"

(I'm a little shocked at this comment from Emma....) Yes, Emma, they ARE lucky! They are in heaven with God!

"When do we get to go to hebvean, Mommy? Can you come wiff me?"

Emma, every one has their own time to go to heaven. I am not sure when our time will be; no one really does. But if we don't go together, God will be right there, waiting for us, so there's no reason to be scared or worried about it.

"I dink that Gabby's Mommy misses her, don't you, Mommy?"

Oy.

I'm in tears now.

Yes, sweetie, i know Gabby's Mommy misses her so very much. But Gabby's Mommy knows that Gabby is with God, so even though it's sad for Gabby's Mommy, she knows that she'll see her again.

"Mwabe i can pwlay with Gabby when i go to hbeaven, right, Mommy"

Damn, damn, damn!

More tears from me...

Yep, Emme, when it's your turn to go to heaven, i bet Gabby will be so excited to play with you!

"WLLLOOOOKKKKK!! Dere's a brown COW! Brown cows gibe chocwlate milk! MOOOOO....."


And just like that, our conversation is over with about heaven as we start to count cows, horses, goats, and sheep....

....and as i count cows along with Emma, i say a silent, quick prayer for Gabby's Mommy who i know must miss her Gabby more than she can ever express.

I'm on a plane with my camera. I'm wearing jeans, my favorite boots, and a long-sleeved shirt with a shirt under that. I have a jacket with me, gloves and my camera bag. I am dressed for warmth. I have my passport in my bag....i'm flying somewhere to take photos. Important photos. Important photos of some place where the world is changing. An important place...where i am going to record history with my camera. I am off on a important trip. I am recording history with my camera. I am traveling...

"MAMA!! PICKLES POOPED ON DA FLOOR!!! MAMA!! BAD PWICKLES!! WAKE UP, MAMA!!"

....with my camera to record the world. I am excited, nervous and thrilled. I am traveling alone with my camera. And then the plane starts to shake...

"MAMA!! PLEASE WAKE UP! PICKLES POOPED! ON DA FLOOR! BAD PICKLES!! PICKLES, YOU ARE IN A BUNCHA TWROWBLE!! MAMA! WAKE UPPPPP!!"

What?!? What?!? Is my plane going down? Are we going to crash? Why is my seat shaking?? Oh, no, i'm dreaming! And my daughter, my beautiful daughter, is screaming at me to wake up because of poop.

I open one eye and Emma giggles. She kisses my nose, and i open both eyes. She giggles some more. I grab her and pull her towards me to kiss and hug her. She smells of baby shampoo and baby lotion. I'm not on a plane traveling to a world changing event with my camera...i'm at home, in my sunny bedroom.

I glance over at the clock that sits near my Mama's photo and notice it is 6am. It is a Sunday morning. I was dreaming again. I'm really not on a plane with my camera, rushing off to take world~class photos of some amazing, stunning, world event in a far off country. No, i'm home and i'm about to get out of bed and clean up puppy poopy.

"Mama, Pwickles is BAD! You gotta clean it up, Mama. I'm hungry. Pwickles is hungry, too. Are you hungry, Mama? I know! Wlets make PANCAKES!!"

"Sweetie, it's kinda early....." i try to tell her.

"But MAMA!! DA SUN IS UP! SEE?!?! And when da sun is up, we get up, wright??"

Early morning logic from a four year old.

I get up, looking over at my sleeping husband who hasn't budged an inch. He has apparently not heard that there is puppy poop on the floor. How can that be?? I guess he's not important enough for this big job of cleaning up puppy poopy. I, however, seem to be. I, Mommy Pooper Scooper of the Puppy and little girls, maker of breakfast, doer of laundry, driver-to-school, am the one for the job. I watch as my husband snuggles into his blanket...wanting to put a pillow over his head in a not-so-soft way.

"Okay, sweetie, show me where Pickles has pooped and you and i will take her outside to do her thing. Then we'll have breakfast and go for a walk with Pickles, okay?"

Emma is thrilled to show me where the poop is. After breakfast, we both get our shoes on, grab Pickles and his leash and set off for a walk together...my dream is still on my mind, however...

I wonder where i was going? Was i flying into a war zone? Maybe Afganistan? Or maybe i was going to take photo of Iraq and how things are going since the military pulled out. Or maybe i was going to do something in Cambodia. I've always wanted to go to Cambodia...or maybe i was going to Thialand. What a beautiful country that is! Maybe some where in Italy, like Rome or Tuscany? Maybe the Pope died. That's not world changing, though, is it? Why would i take photos of that??

Pickles wants to run and so does Emma, so we all run together, laughing and giggling as Pickles is doing her best to keep up with us. Pickles is growing up fast and before long, i am sure she will have no trouble keeping up with us. Doggys and baby girls grow up fast, you know...very fast.

We walk back to our home, Emma is pointing out grass, rocks, trees and dog poop all the way to our house.

"Wow, wlook, Mama! That oder doggy has BIG POOP!!"

sigh...yep, i am raising a little girl in a barn.

At home, i start laundry and Emma is ready to paint some art. The cute husband is up and reminds me that i need to get to the grocery store. We are out of milk, orange juice, eggs, bread....the list is long. I groan to myself as i know that i can't put off going to the grocery store any longer. I quickly make a list and then i do something i usually don't do:

I sneak out of the house to go to the grocery store alone.

Usually, i take Emma alone and it's an adventure. We look at all of the fruits, touch the veggies, look at all of the cereals and poke at the lobsters in the tank in the sea food area. We look at all of the yogurt, trying to decide which flavors we should get. Not today, though...

Today, i sneak out, alone.

I hate the grocery store. Hate. It. Why do i have to go to the grocery store? Why hasn't someone invented a computer program where you check off what you need, the grocery store delievers it, puts the groceries up and then leaves? Surely that is a program worth having if you're a grocery store. I bet all of the grocery stores CEOs are men. That's why this program doesn't exist. Those all important CEOs have wives that grocery shop. I hate the grocery store. Hate. It.

The parking lot is full. How did i forget that the playoffs are today? ggrrr...
I have my camera with me. I take it every where. I'm not sure why, though. What am i going to get a photo of? Bananas on sale? A child throwing a fit? I put my camera in my bag...and go into the store.

I take my time at the store. I wonder up each aisle, one by one. I know the aisles by heart, you know. It's almost a stay-at-home Mom's proof of having a brain, you know, learning and memorizing all of the grocery store ailes. Up and down each asile i go, slowly navigating the entire store as i get the things on my list.

Bananas? Check.
Blueberries? Check.
Onions? Check...

I shop slowly, not really thinking of much. I don't even go by the lobsters.

And then i check out, load up the groceries and drive slowly home where i'll put the groceries up and maybe clean up more doggy poopy. I am feeling sorry for myself as i drive.

I wanted to do life-changing things....but now, i'm the doggy poopy cleaner-upper girl who takes care of a home, a husband, a daughter. I pick out food i know they will like. I do things i know they will like. Where am i? Am i even still here?!? I don't even go to the bathroom alone...my daughter and puppy come with me. I should have traveled more. I should have done something important. I should have taken my camera and traveled the world. I should have seen more. I should have done more. I should have joined the Peace Corps like i wanted to instead of yeilding to my dad's rants. I should have done something more...I should have. I could have, you know. I could have.

Shut up, shut up!! You have an amazing life. A fantastic husband. A beautiful daughter. A home to live in. Food on the table. A cute puppy. Be grateful, dammit. BE GRATEFUL. Others have nothing and YOU have so much. So shut up...just shut up.

I shut up just as i drive into our garage.

The side door flies open as i get out of the car and there are the two that i love most in the world, my husband (who is smiling at me) and my little daughter who is screaming "MAMA, YOU'RE HOOMMMMEEEEE!!" Pickles is even in the garage to greet me, wagging her tail. I am hugged by my husband, my daughter hugs our legs and Pickles jumps around us.

It's good to be home, surrounded by hugs and kisses.

It's good to be home, as i smile to myself...right where i am suppose to be.

Missing Mama....

I wish that i could say that after 5 years, i miss my Mama less.

I miss her as much today, five years since she died, than ever before.

I do "feel" her around me more these days in the things that i do, in the things that i am trying to teach Emma, and in the way i am Emma's Mommy. I feel her when i bake her recipe for Chicken and Rice or bake Snowball Cookies. I feel her when i try to teach Emma how to clean up after herself and tie her shoes. I feel her when i hug my daughter in the mornings....and i feel her when i tuck Emma to bed at night after her prayers.

I still struggle with feeling "cheated" that she is not here physically with me. I get angry at God, telling Him that my Mama should be here with me, that surely I need her more than He does. I also tell him how much i miss her, how much i want her to see the mother i am becoming to Emma. I want her to be here for Emma, to love on her, play with her, teach her Spanish and bake with her. I sometimes scream that it's not fair that He took her from me.

And then i remember that i had my mother in my life for almost 40 years and i feel selfish for being angry at God. I had my Mama for my baby years, my preschool years, my elementary school years, my middle/high school years, my college years and all during my disaster of a first marriage.

My Mama also met Robert in 2006, and who i was blessed to marry in 2007.

She loved him and he loved her. They always joked about going dancing together once she felt better.

That dance never happened.

My Mama never got the chance to meet my Emma; Mama passed away in January 2007 and Emma came home to us in July of 2007. This probably makes my heart ache the most as my Mama would have loved Emma and Emma would have loved my Mama. It's ironic that Emma and my Mama have some of the same, odd personality traits: neither wants to be kissed unless THEY want to be kissed, and neither wants to hug unless THEY want to be hugged.

I don't know how to make the ache in my heart hurt less. I cry some mornings because i just want to call her, to hear her voice and i can't. I cry at holidays, because she is the one that made them special and she's not here to do that anymore. I cry on my birthday because there is no phone call from her, so she can sing Happy Birthday to me in Spanish.

She was an awesome Mama...

...and i miss her so much.