Grandma Love

Dear Iz,

This week has been yet another example on why you are one of the most loved (and blessed) girls in the world. Your Grandma was in town recovering from her most recent surgery and you and her were like peas and carrots. You slept with her (as you usually do), you both ate popcorn in bed while watching TV, you played, you shopped, you cuddled - you did all the things that I did with my Grandma growing up. You need to know Izzy - this kind of love and attention is uncommon. That does not mean it is undeserved. You deserve every second of it. But it is uncommon. And I hope as you grow older you are able to appreciate it. That you take it in and let it build you up. That you learn to love as well as you were loved. Because if that becomes the case, you will have much love to share with this world.

Izzy-ism #2

You have recently been fascinated by the idea of clouds and rain. At one point I explained that clouds were formed by the water in the ocean in a process called evaporation (who knows if that is the technical term, but you're 3 and can ask your weather-geek father for a more precise explanation). I explained that the sun heats up the water, the water evaporates and forms a cloud. Once the cloud becomes full of water, it releases the water in the form of rain.

In a separate, yet eventually related discussion we talked about God. I explained that God was in Heaven. When you asked where Heaven was, I explained that it was in the sky above the clouds (I realize that I will soon have to amend that explanation, but again, you're 3).

Today after arriving home from a funeral the talk turned to God. Suddenly you jumped up in your chair and said "Oh, I know about God! He was born in the ocean and then evapted into Heaven!" We all looked at you in question as you repeated yourself. I then realized that you had adapted science and religion to fit your understanding of things. And it was yet another example of your already blossoming genius. =)

Izzy-ism #1

As we were driving down the road you saw a bulldozer and asked what it was. When I told you, you thought for a second and then said "Mom, why does it doze the bulls? What did they do to make it mad? And is there a horsedozer too?"

planning your life one email at a time

Oh Izz - Bless your heart, you have no idea yet what a planner your Mama is. I apologize in advance. You should know now, Sunday's are the worst. Once I've planned the week, I move on to planning the month and tonight I took on your life. Will you be a dancer? A gymnast? An artist, a writer? And that's just taking on the Arts. For your amusement, I submit to you an email I sent your Grandma tonight which is a perfect example of my ticking*:

So in addition to the stressful task of choosing schools for Izzy, we must also decide on her after school activities. She's been especially interested in ballet lately so I was considering enrolling her in dance classes as opposed to gymnastics. Already I have decided that one of the hardest things about being a mother is going to be that I cannot afford her the "very best", which is why I am excited to have finally picked a career path in the event she excels at something particularly expensive (as it appears dance might be). Anyway, here are the options. Look them over and let's discuss...

Ballet Austin. This is the best of the best. It's in a fancy building and they train professional dancers. They are also the troop that puts on The Nutcracker every year. Of course, upon finding this out I immediately had visions of Izzy one day being the Sugar Plum Fairy and the soccer mom in me started rising up (ie: "We MUST get her in these classes right away! We shall spare no expense!") However, like all things that create visions of grandeur, it ain't cheap. So maybe we can save this place for when she decides (at the ripe age of 6, of course) that she MUST be a "dancer". Regardless, here's the link (be sure and check out their upcoming performances):

http://www.balletaustin.org/index.php

Alisa's Dance Studio. This one is a little more affordable, yet still in West Lake (at least I'm not driving a Ford Focus anymore). It has good reviews and may be a good beginning.

http://www.alisasdanceacademy.com/elite.html

The YMCA. Providing the lower-middle class an opportunity to participate in extra-curricular activities since 1844 (true story!) For what we'd send Izzy to at the fancy places, we could afford a monthly family membership at the YMCA. However, they don't offer dance classes down South, we'd need to drive to the East Side. But then again, for Ballet Austin we'd be driving downtown and for Alisa's we'd be driving to West Lake. Luckily for all of us I'm an East Side kinda gal. On the upside, Chris and I could start working out ensuring that we will live long enough to pay off the debts incurred by Izzy's extracurricular activities.

http://www.austinymca.org/

Look over all the options and let me know what you think. And then of course there is the Wilderness Group, Krav Maga, Karate, Theatre Arts, Swimming, Softball, Soccer - how in the world are we going to have enough time (and money!!) to expose her to everything to make absolutely certain that she is well-rounded AND able to choose a career path by the time she is 13? Parenting involves so much PRESSURE! (I say all of this only half joking.)

Love you (and glad you only committed me to dance),

your over-planner of a daughter

* Ticking: A term I borrowed when I start obsessing about something in particular. It could be cleaning (to take that further I could start "ticking" about cleaning a closet, the garage or the chimney), or most especially planning. I like to plan. My life, your Dad's life, complete stranger's lives - I am a planner.

on becoming your mom

Hey Izz,

I've always been pretty open with friends and family about my "bad" mothering. It goes in line with my regular formula of self-deprecation, humor and honesty, but I do feel the need to elaborate a little to you in the event things get nuts as you grow older and I suddenly lose my fantastic ability to communicate. So here I go, for the record:

I wanted you from the moment of conception. In fact, I wanted you long before that. I grew up wanting to be a mother. I never had many dreams of careers, success or money - but I did always dream about being a mom. From the moment your father and I met I was clear that I wanted kids. In fact, I wanted them right away. He wasn't ready and it took him about 7 years to get there. But eventually he got on board and we decided to try for you. As I would later learn about you - you took awhile. In fact, after several months of trying to conceive I gave up on the idea and decided to go to Europe. The following month I found out I was pregnant with you.

To say I was overjoyed doesn't begin to describe it. I was excited, nervous and scared - but most of all excited. Finally you were coming. We had a few scares along the way, but after 9 months of anticipation you were finally born. And then the dream became a reality. Once you were born I had no idea what to do with you. I was terrified and awkward. I'd always wondered what kind of father your dad would be - but suddenly he was the natural and I was... not.

The first night in the hospital it was just me and you. You cried most of the night, I cried, I wondered if I could give you back, I realized I had made a terrible mistake and I was going to be a terrible mother. Those feelings continued for the next 9 months. I later realized much of that was post-partum depression. Also, like any dream becoming a reality, it wasn't quite as blissful as I pictured. After about 9 months I started to be able to breathe. The anxiety started to abate and I started to get the hang of mothering. Yet still I felt disconnected from you and it scared me beyond explanation. I absolutely loved you, with that there was no doubt, but I didn't feel the connection I had always heard about. As I tell it to my friends, the skies didn't open and the angels didn't sing.

As you started to grow and your personality started to shine I felt more and more connected. The day you took your first steps (Super Tuesday!) was one of the happiest moments of our lives. The day you first ate spaghetti and smeared it all over your face while laughing was wonderful. And day by day I felt closer to you and more in love. One day, when you were about 15 months old we laid down together for a nap (as we usually did as it would ensure you would actually fall asleep). I remember you turning to me and smiling, and at that moment I felt the love, connection and adoration I had been expecting. At that moment the skies opened and the angels sang. My heart was filled with more love than I had ever experienced.

But as always happens, reality once again returned. There have been moments in motherhood that I should be embarrassed to admit (if I were ever embarrassed by things). There have been moments when I have yelled at you much louder and meaner than is right by a mother. There have been moments when I have grabbed you by the arm and later prayed there were no bruises. There have been moments when I have lost my temper to a point that I swore as a small child I NEVER would. There have been moments when I have had to walk away to prevent myself from hurting you. And every single one of those moments terrified me and broke my heart because it is not the kind of mother I want to be to you. I want to be the absolute best of my ability because you deserve absolutely nothing less.

But it takes work. It takes going to bed and swearing that I will be better. It takes praying to God that I become calmer, more patient, more understanding and more gentle. It takes waking up in the morning and being determined to smile at 7am and chat as much as you like. And slowly, I have improved as a mother. Nothing brings me more enjoyment than lying in bed with you before naptime/bedtime and softly chatting with you. My heart sings when you come sit in my lap and ask question after question trying to figure out a concept. I swell with pride when you learn a new task or show off one of your many charming skills. I am not, nor will I ever be, perfect. But I need you to know that I will always try to be better. I will always work to be the best mother in the world to you. I will always be open to your criticisms and try to adjust to your needs. And while it took a while to come - I love you (and will ALWAYS love you) more than anything or anyone else in this world.

Catching up

Dear Iz,

It's been too long since I've written. Things have been fantastically busy. Your Dad and I have been catching up on years worth of vacations, San Francisco namely, with a river and camping trip thrown in there as well. You've had lots of time with Grandma with makes both of you happy. However, the other day you informed me that I "had gone on vacation enough and that you missed me" - and thankfully we have nothing scheduled from here. I hope to find a job soon and get you finally enrolled in pre-school. We all agree that time has come as you are like a little sponge. You honestly cannot learn enough fast enough. Just a few days ago you became fascinated by the water process. Where does it come from? Where does it go? I explained faucets and pipes and water treatment plants. You had even more questions (you were confused about where the water treatment plant actually was, convinced it was in the walls or in the garage), so I pulled up diagrams, flowcharts and videos. That made you very happy, but then you asked to go to a water treatment plant. I'm still working on that. But it made me realize that you are beyond ready for a formal education, and I am probably not prepared to provide you with the structure and information that you are ready for. So off to work for me and off to school for you!

In other news, you are wrapping up your first gymnastics class. Your Gym Show is next weekend and we are all excited about it. I put down some pink duct tape on the floor in the place of a balance beam and you practice several times a day. We decided to skip gymnastics this summer in lieu of swim lessons and you are pretty excited about it, but we have every intention of re-enrolling you again in the Fall. Let thisserve as a reminder to me to post pics of your Gym Show next week.

For now I will leave you with my most recent favorite picture of you. I somehow managed to catch your "question face" and it was perfect:

I promise I'll try to do much better at updating!

I love you more than cake,

~Mom

The "Groundhog El Nino Christmas Miracle" **

Dear Iz,

After missing out on snow most of the winter, and your Aunt Jess buying you a snowglobe for Christmas you finally got your chance to experience real snow! I was all but convinced you'd lost your opportunity this year - so much so that I didn't bother to tell you there was a chance for it. And even when our friends were reporting snow on Facebook, I still didn't have much hope. So I was overjoyed when I turned to look out the window to see huge snowflakes falling from the sky. The excitement was beyond containing when I suggested you go look out the window yourself. It took a moment to register, and then you began yelling "IT'S SNOWING, IT'S SNOWING!!!" You ran to your room to put on your "snow dress", some tights and boots and then ran to the back door to go outside. The rest is history!

** The title of this blog comes from my friend Heather - who wittingly said this when finding out you FINALLY received some snow...

Be Excellent.

Dear Iz,

I'm watching the Winter Olympics for the first time since.... well ever. I must admit, I never really "got" the Olympics before. But then, I never really "got" competition before either. And because of that, I'm certainly not the "Best" of anything. But as I sit here watching people live out their dreams of being the very best in the world, I find myself becoming pretty emotional. Many times I've even become choked up after a competition. And I realized that I've never experienced that kind of determination or pride. And Izzy, I want that for you.

I promise right now that I will never be a "soccer mom". I will never take anything of yours and make it mine. I will do my best to never push you harder than you need to be pushed. But in turn, I'd like you to be excellent. Not at everything, not even at many things - that is just way too much pressure. But be excellent at something. Your father is an excellent musician, writer AND artist. Your grandmother is excellent at being nice, sympathetic and giving. Your great-grandfather is excellent at always being right (or at least he'd like to think so). But other than those examples, you don't really come from a family of excellence (like, say, the Kennedy's).

I promise to do my very best to expose you to as much as possible in hopes that you will find your passion. That you will one day grow to be a determined woman yearning for the taste of success. It makes no difference to me what you go for, just go for something. And when you do - Be Excellent.

Love,

Your already proud mother

on the first year of motherhood

Dear Izzy,

I recently wrote this response to a new mother in my Austin Mama group who was having a difficult time with her 3 month old son. I was met with tons of responses from mothers thanking me for posting, as they felt I articulated spot-on what that first year of motherhood is like. In the God-awful event that I'm not around when and if you give me my first grandchild, I wanted to share this with you.

"I just want to reiterate what the other Mama's have said. In fact, I think I wrote a similar message to this group about 2 years ago. And funny enough, I was having this exact conversation with 2 expectant mothers at a party this weekend. My best friend came up to me and said "Did you seriously have to make the first year sound that bad? You probably scared them to death. I know I'm definitely re-thinking this motherhood thing."

But honestly, that first year sucks. And few moms are honest about it. When I gave birth I expected the heavens to open, the angels to sing and to immediately feel the strongest bond I'd ever felt in my entire life. My husband and I WANTED this baby like nothing we'd wanted before. Instead I was exhausted and slowly gaining speed towards resentful. I was shocked at my depression and my anger towards "the baby". There were times my husband took my daughter away
because he was scared I was one more cry away from hurting her. I couldn't imagine it being PPD, because I had wanted her (skewed thinking obviously, but it made sense at the time), and like you, I was loathe to take drugs. This went on for months (I'm guessing about 6-9 months) before I just bottomed out. My cup was empty and no amount of rest, breaks or quiet dinners would fill the cup back up. I went to the doctor and was prescribed Welbutrin and by that time I willingly took it. Within 2 weeks I felt better - like I could breathe again. I took it for about 3 months and weaned myself off over 2 weeks (I don't suggest this, as doctors frown upon it - but it worked for me). I feel like in that time I learned to get ahold of things. It was like the fog lifted. Sure, the stress was still there. Yes I was disappointed that I had stopped breastfeeding (the goal was a year), I had stopped cloth diapering (I wanted to save the Earth) and was putting my daughter in front of Classical Baby for sometimes up to an hour (TV would stunt her brain!) But like the other Mama's say - there comes a point when your reality crashes with your ideals. And something's gotta give.

As I told a pregnant friend of mine this weekend, lower your bar. Have an ideal, have an "absolutely NOT", and then work your way into the grays of motherhood. Do the best you can, but don't expect too much of yourself. There are days when you can make up for the bad days - and as long as you put in the effort, you are doing better than so many moms out there.

Also, take heart. It gets better. I look at my 3 1/2 year old daughter now and wonder how I ever could have questioned my love for her (though, I remember enough to understand how...) I feel like around the time she turned 15 months or so things got SO much better. She started to show her personality that was impossible not to fall in love with, we were doing more bonding and in general she was less work (ie: she was sleeping through the night, feeding herself and easier to entertain).

Also, and please understand I am not at all criticizing, judging or anything of the like, I'm just trying to share an outside perspective - your son's father is his father. He may not be the kind of father you envisioned, but he's his father all the same. I know it took my husband some time to get adjusted to fatherhood (again, around 15 months or so), and even still he doesn't do things the way I'd like. I have to remind him to play with our daughter. I suggest he take her to the store with him. I'm constantly reminding him to be something besides just the disciplinarian. To be sweet and soft. It should be noted at this point that my husband is in a metal band - sweet and soft just doesn't come natural. In my mind I pictured Bill Cosby - in reality I got the metal version of (I hope) Reverend Run.

My point is, surely he has something to offer - and on the upside, it sounds like it will be much different than what you have to offer. So to take a cup-half-full outlook, maybe your child will turn out to be an intellectual kid that has street smarts and a sassy tongue. It'll make him more well-rounded in his later years. But (and maybe this is where my point becomes controversial), I feel like it's our job as mothers to inspire fathers to be more than they think they can be. Especially in this generation where fatherhood has definitely been revamped. Instead of seeing what you don't want, see what he can offer (everyone has something to offer). Gently nudge him in a direction where he can be involved. It's hard with babies - I feel like a lot of men just don't know what to do with them, but as he gets older, help the father see where he can make a difference. Remind him what a positive role model is - by asking what kind of father he wanted for himself. Remind him that he now has an opportunity to be the kind of father he wanted (because didn't we all want awesome fathers?) This is just a suggestion and something that has inspired my own husband to be a more mindful father. Take it for what it's worth, or throw it out the window, as I definitely realize that one size does NOT fit all. =)

Either way, know you aren't alone. Even those of us that desperately wanted children wake up feeling like we could walk out the door and never look back. We look at our embarrassingly messy houses, the kids eating Cheez-Its while watching Sponge Bob and wonder how we got so off track. But then there's the days where your kid discovers a love for broccoli, paints a beautiful picture and says "When I grow up, I'm going to become President and make a law that everyone has to smile and say 'thank you'" - and you feel like you just might be hanging in there as an okay Mom..."

Dear Iz,

Right now you are super sick and curled up on the couch. We have no idea what's wrong with you, at first we thought allergies but as your temperature has climbed higher and higher I'm thinking it's more serious than that. Last night I panicked when your fever hit 104 degrees. I called the doctor and they said I was over-treating you by giving you both Motrin and Tylenol (something mother's have been doing for ages). They also said a trip to the E.R. wasn't needed until you hit 105. Tonight you hit 104.6 and I freaked out again. Another call to the doctor. Another nurse telling us not to worry, just keep you hydrated and give you a tepid bath if necessary.

Meanwhile it's breaking our hearts to watch you. You whimper almost constantly, yet when you have moments of energy you are still as sweet and funny as ever. You thank me for everything when you are sick. Covering you up, "loving you" (cuddling), giving you juice or water - everything. Yesterday I picked you up a red heart balloon from Walgreens and you must thank me 20 times a day for buying it. Tonight you just lied there on the couch watching it - happy to see it bounce around in place.

This sickness can't end soon enough. I'm so ready for you to be dancing around the house and chasing the cat. While I love the chance to hold and rock you again as I did when you were a baby (and too tired to truly appreciate it) - I hate that it's at the expense of you. But I know that this will end soon because you are so much like us - you are pushing through like a champ.

All my love,

Mom

im complicated. ill just say that right now.

hey girl


im pretty sure you have conflicted feelings about me lately.

i tickle you all the time and make you laugh. i tell you that cookies can talk and that gingerbread men poot cinnamon...i let you know that you have the power to question monsters who come into your room without asking first and then eating them if they dont leave when you tell them to.

but i also make you clean your room and leave mommy alone. i make sure that you always say please and thank you. i dont let you eat lollipops whenever you think you
deserve one.

i fight a hard battle when i interact with you and it's hard to express sometimes, to your mommy, just how hard it is. but you need to know how much i love you.

your granpa dawson and abuelita werent the most emotionally invested people in the world and your daddy grew up in a house of strict and unreasonable rules. your daddy got pops all the time and was never allowed to eat lollipops...even if i cleaned up my messy room all by myself.

to this day, your granpa has never told me the ins-and-outs of how to raise a little girl and all your abuelita wants to do is tell me that i am the man i am because of her. its a bizarre and un-fixable relationship. even now, they dislike how little they see you but even when they are here they really dont know what to do with you.

i work really hard to not repeat the same mistakes that i think my parents made. especially my dad. my dad was never there for me emotionally. i heard "i dont know" out of his mouth as much as i heard "what the hell?". i do my very best to say "i dont know". ...which is why you are able to eat monsters and gingerbread men poop gumdrops.

when i make you clean your room or tell you that you cant have a lollipop, its not beacuse i want to be mean and make you unhappy. its not because i dont love you. the truth is that i am fighting my programming. my parents programmed me to be a certain way. your mommy has done a lot to fix me as a man but i have a long way to go before i am a really good dad.

so i just want you to know that you are the light of my life, even though sometimes it's hard for me to see it when im half-awake. i love you more than i love your mommy sometimes but thats only because you arent moody yet. but the truth is that without you i would have never enjoyed playing with legos again or discovered spongebob.

there is no one in this world who will jump out and protect you faster than me and there will be no force on this earth capable of laying a finger on you without my permission....your future boyfriends (and you) will have a rough go of it, indeed. and, despite what i tell your mommy, it is hard to hear you crying. which is why i try to make you laugh as much as i do by being silly or telling you silly things.

next to your mommy, you are the most beautiful and cherished girl on this planet and even though i want to be able to give you all the damned lollipops the world has to offer, i simply cant. it wouldnt be right for me to do that anymore than it would be right for me to never let you have one. i already know what that does to a child.

looking forward to hugs and kisses later.

love your daddy.

the happy walk

Dear Izzy,

You have a new walk. I saw it today at the park and it made me laugh pretty hard. When I happened to be behind you with a camera when you started doing it at the Capitol...


Pictures don't do it justice. It is the most awesome "I'm having fun walk" I have ever seen. love you.

Merry Christmas Izzy

Oh, my dearest Izzy !!!

It's Christmas Eve and in a few more minutes it will officially be Christmas :) I can't even begin to write about how happy I am that we are all here - at your house - together to celebrate the day.

This will be the first year that you have really had an idea of what Christmas is all about and you are beyond excited about it. And, as your Grandma, I feel like a kid again because of your excitement. I have enjoyed every single minute of the shopping and preparation that comes with making it a memorable day for you.

Your Mama has always been my greatest joy in life and now that you are here, that joy has somehow tripled with you. I don't know how that is possible, but, that's the way it has turned out.

Now that your Mama has shown me how to get in here and blog to you, you'll be hearing more from me. Perhaps I can leave a few words of wisdom that you can use in the years to come to make your life a little easier :)

Know that I love you more than words can describe and that your Mom and Dad are doing an exceptional job of raising you and showing you as much joy as possible. Ahhhh, life is so very, very good.

Gotta go now and watch It's a Wonderful Life which I have done for the last ... well ... more years than I will mention here :) Which reminds me, please always try to watch that movie every year at Christmas time and know that the world would just not be right if you weren't in it !!! You also need to be sure and watch Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase. You will see so many of your family in that movie ... sorry about that !!!!

Ho, Ho, Ho and Merry Christmas !!!!!! I'm sooooooooooo excited !!!!!!

Hugs and Kisses -

Gram

Super cut? Not so much.

Dear Izzy,

I'm sorry. I knew better. But I was beyond tired of your hair always getting in your eyes and I had to get it cut. Unfortunately, it was on a whim. Unfortunately I was being cheap. Unfortunately I took you to Supercuts. Your Grandma and I discussed it first, so I have no excuses. "Just make sure they don't give her a bowl haircut," she said. I tried, but apparently it's the only kid haircut they know (I didn't know that until you ended up with a long bowl haircut). I should have done it myself, but I'm afraid the results would have been similar.

But take solace in knowing that bad toddler haircuts are apparently a rite of passage. We all have that picture buried in a box somewhere. And I'm sorry, but here's yours:

Be responsibly irresponsible.

Dear Izzy,

So my recent letter regarding how your Dad and I met reminded me to write you about responsible irresponsibility.  I do believe this is one of the greatest lessons your Grandma taught me, and I really hope that I am able to do the same for you.

For example, drugs and alcohol are bad.  I’ve seen it destroy more lives than I care to admit.  I’ve known people to die from them, ruin their lives, fight addictions and completely check out.  At the same time, some of my most life-changing and eye-opening moments were due (in part) to either drugs or alcohol.  So on that account, they aren’t all bad.  The key is “responsible irresponsibility”.

The thing is, for the most part, using drugs or alcohol is pretty irresponsible.  They impair your judgment and often times lead you to do something you wouldn’t necessarily do sober.  It’s for that reason that you’ll want to use caution when under the influence.  Don’t EVER drink and drive.  Trust me on this.  You do not want to be responsible for ending someone’s life due to one drunken moment.  Nor do you want to lose your license or wreck your only mode of transportation.  In addition, it’s wise to never drink to the point of blackouts.  You will never get those moments back, you'll never know what really happened and nobody likes an incoherent drunk.

Where drugs are concerned, think it through.  I’m not going to ask you to never do drugs, I know better.  And honestly, I have no concern what you do or don’t do – as long as you think through your decisions.  If it’s your first time to try a drug (ANY drug) – make sure you do so in a safe and stable environment.  Make sure you have a friend there who can watch over you and help you in the event you have a bad reaction (it happens).  Make sure you start in very small doses and slowly work your way into it.

In my opinion, some things are better left alone.  Weigh out the pros and cons before trying anything.  When I was younger I wanted to experience everything.  After some consideration, I chose to stay away from heroin, crack and meth.  Second-hand experiences were enough to teach me that the good could never outweigh the bad.  Everything else I tried, experienced and checked off my list.  A couple of times I stood on the line of addiction, but had the foresight to check myself before the usage caused any (long-lasting) problems.  Some things I’ve had to put down never to pick up again because the temptation is just too much. 

Who knows what will be around when you get older.  Just know that this lesson goes beyond just drugs and alcohol.  It expands to anything that can ruin/change your life in a moments notice.  I love you more than you know (until you one day have a child of your own).  If you are armed with this knowledge and discipline I can rest knowing that you will always do your best to make wise decisions and never put yourself in harms way.  And I do believe that is the greatest gift you could ever give me.

Love,

Mom

How your dad and I met.

Dear Izzy,

I thought this might be a good time and place to tell you how your Dad and I met.  Like most things you will discover about your family, it was rather unconventional.  At the time we met I was living in Baytown.  Hopefully by the time you read this, your Grandma will be out of there (along with everyone else we know), but it’s where I grew up.  Baytown is a terrible place.  It’s home to many refineries and one of the ugliest places I’ve ever seen.  In my opinion, the people aren’t much better.  They are judgmental and small-minded.  It’s because of this that I tried online dating.

Your Dad and I belonged to the same dating site (Love @ AOL), but that isn’t exactly how we met.  Instead I happened upon his profile (a personal summary) while in a chat room.  At the end of his profile he had the following quote:  “I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-killer.  Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  I will face my fear.  I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  Only I will remain.”  He then went on to say that anyone who could name the author of the quote would win a prize.  I was already impressed by the intelligence of his profile, so I did what any smart girl does who doesn’t know the answer to something – I looked it up on the internet.  I then sent him an email with my answer.  Shortly after we began chatting in instant messages.  My prize for naming the author was a toaster which, to this day, I still have not received.

We talked online and on the phone for the next month or so.  I had never met anyone like your Dad before.  He was outspoken, articulate, opinionated, smart and did not care what anyone thought of him.  Where I lived, qualities like that were rare.  We set up a time to meet and I stood him up.  He gave me a lecture and we set up another time.  That time we did meet.

I was living in a small house next door to a friend of mine.  I let her know that I was about to meet a guy from the internet and to check on me 10 minutes after I arrived back home (in case he was a creep).    I then left to go meet your Dad.  We were meeting at a gas station along the interstate and when I showed up he had already arrived.  He stepped out of (what seemed to be) a 20-year-old Buick that was as big as a bus.  The first thing I noticed was a bumper sticker on his back windshield that said “Screw Your University”.  At the time (and most likely now), that summed up your Dad’s humor well.  As for your Dad, he was dressed in all black (an Adidas shirt that I believe he still wears) and black shorts that almost went to his ankles.  He had a chain hanging from his pocket.  It was definitely NOT a Baytown look and I remember thinking “What the hell am I doing?”  We said our “hello’s” and I asked him to follow me to my house*.

Once we got to my house we settled in.  He showed me some of his artwork he’d been working on (your Grandma often describes it as “very dark”).  He played me a cd of the band he was in (your Grandma often describes it as “very, very dark”).  My friend came by to check on me and we all spent a good part of the evening talking.  In the interest of full disclosure and honesty, we got high and we (my friend and I) tried cocaine for the first time **.  Eventually my friend went home and your Dad and I stayed up well into the night talking.  Seeing as he lived an hour away, I invited him to spend the night ***.  He did.  He lived with me for the next year and we were pretty much inseparable. 

It was a great time for us.  We built a bubble around us (we still refer to it as our “Fisher Hill bubble” – named for the street we lived on).  I learned how caring, responsible, smart and funny your Dad was (is).  Nobody had ever treated me as wonderfully as he did.  I came home to a clean house, candle-lit dinners and long evenings discussing books, music, politics and philosophy.  The following years became rough and trying, but that's not important here.  Because this, my dear Izzy, is the story of how we met and fell in love.

Love,

Mom

* It should be noted that this was probably one of the dumber risks I’ve ever taken.  It’s wise to never invite a complete stranger to your house as a single woman.  But I had a feeling and I went with it, and that’s all I really have to offer as an explanation for my stupidity.

** Drugs are bad.  Unless they are done in a responsible manner in a responsible setting.  Taking drugs from someone you hardly know is not responsible.  However, I did so in a slow and calculated way that could perhaps be deemed as “responsible irresponsibility”.

*** Spending the night with a guy you just met is also not the smartest way to run things.  Once again, my only defense is that I “had a feeling”.  Some might consider this behavior (as well as your Dad moving in the day we met) as “trashy”.  To that I say, “screw them”.  I had a feeling and went with it.

mushy crap

Izzy,

I'm so happy your parents made this blog for you. I think it's such a great idea and am very happy they decided to let us join in. Your parents are pretty awesome people. I don't know what age you'll be when you read this and at some points you've probably had your doubts as to the coolness of your parents. (We all feel that way about our parents no matter how much we love them) ... but possibly not, your parents are that groovy. :)

I could start rambling all sorts of advice that I think will benefit you but I'll ease into that. All I really want to tell you today is how much I adore you. At the time of this writing you're 3. You're funny, smart and a beautiful girl. One thing that strikes me about you is how much joy you bring. I know whenever I'm going to see you that any problems I have, can and will wait. I know you're going to make me smile, laugh and feel full of love. I'm so appreciative to you for that. You remind me when I need reminding how important it is to have a heart full of love and to experience the joy of life. I love you so very much, Iz. (Keep that in mind when I start spouting advice)

Jessica

"be real, not right"

Dear Iz,

So I have my first real lesson for you.  It all began with an article a friend sent me about "speaking your truth".  I'm going to paste a part of the article at the end of this letter, because I'm not so sure CNN, or Oprah.com which is where the article was pulled, will still be available in 20 years when you need this.  But for now, let me share my experience.

Your cousin Chelsea and I got into an argument yesterday.  (You should thank her when you get older because she has done a fabulous job of training me for motherhood - probably most unfortunate for her.)  Chelsea expressed her desire to buy a house at the ripe, young age of 22.  She is in the middle of college and just married a few months ago.  I felt like it might not be the wisest decision and went on to point out the reasons why.  Chelsea (like all the other women in your family) is strong, smart and outspoken.  At one point in the discussion she made the comment "well now that I know you feel strongly that I shouldn't do it, it just makes me want to go out and buy a house now."  Her comment came on the heels of me reading this article and I was able to immediately see the article's point.  Chelsea was trying to speak her truth (that she is smart and responsible), but in the process she was willing to make a possible mistake just in the desire to "be right".

I don't blame Chelsea.  In fact (and I don't mean to be condescending when I point this out), this type of thought process is par for your teens and twenties.  You so desperately want to be right and prove everyone else wrong, you often ignore the obvious truth in front of you.  Sometimes it all works out for the best, you learn a lesson and you are smarter and wiser for it.  Sometimes you end up pregnant by your abusive, jerk of a boyfriend.  Don't be that girl, Iz.

I hope to always have the patience to support your desire for freedom.  I want you to make your own choices, make your own mistakes and learn from your own experiences.  I want you to take calculated risks.  It's the surest way to be a strong and smart woman.  Just make sure the risks are worth the rewards.  Please think it out thoroughly.  Please make sure they aren't life-altering risks.  And please (oh please) don't get knocked up by some abusive, jerk of a boyfriend.

Love,
Mom

Speak Your Truth

3 ways to speak your truth:

How do we enhance and deepen our capacity to speak our truth with kindness, love and authenticity? There are lots of things we can do to accomplish this. Here are three to think about:

• Stop managing other people's feelings. I know this one well, as I can be the king of trying to manage other people's feelings. It's arrogant, manipulative and somewhat ridiculous to think we have the power to manage other people's emotions.

We also use it as a cop-out to not really speak our truth. We can be aware and mindful of other people and how they might feel (so we don't end up being mean and hurtful on purpose), but when we let go of taking care of others in a condescending way, it frees us and them up to be grown-ups and have adult conversations, which sometimes can get a little sticky or tense when we're speaking our truth.

• Be real, not right. This is huge when it comes to speaking our truth. When we focus on winning or being right, we no longer can access the deepest places within our heart, which is where our real truth comes from.

When we let go of our attachment to the outcome of a conversation, what the other person thinks and our erroneous obsession with always having to be right, we give ourselves the opportunity to get real.

Being vulnerable and transparent are the key elements of speaking our truth, not dominating the conversation and the person (or people) we're talking to.

• Practice. Like anything and everything else in life, the best way for us to get better, deepen our capacity and grow is to practice. In this case, as we're talking about speaking our truth, it's not about role-playing per se (although if that helps give you the courage to have a difficult conversation, go for it). It is about speaking up and stepping into your life with your truth.

Will you mess it up? Of course! Will you say the wrong things sometimes? Yes. Will people get upset, offended or defensive at times? Absolutely. This is not about being perfect, it is about being yourself and speaking authentically.

because a webpage is the new paper

Dear Iz,

So your Dad and I came up with this idea for a number of reasons.  The first is that I've been absolutely terrible at keeping up with the journals I've started for you.  I've lost a couple, started a couple more and honestly, I'm just terrible at it.  I prefer "blogging" over writing any day (I'm a faster typer).  Second, I thought there would be a better chance of Blogspot being here in 20 years than any of these journals I've started.  I'm regularly worrying about the house burning down (I inherited that from your Grandma and Great-Great Grandma), and if that happens all of my writings will go up in smoke.  Not so with the internet.  The last reason we started this blog was in hopes of getting on Oprah.  She only has one season left so we had to hustle.  A blog to our daughter was the best idea we have come up with thus far.  I'll keep you updated if we make it on the show (let's not hold our breaths).

It is our hope that this becomes a source of wisdom, humor, love and guidance.  A place to share things as we think of them, instead of hoping to remember them in the years to come (forgetfullness also runs on both sides of the family).  But for now, the first thing I'd like to share is that we both love you.  More than I think either of us thought we could.  And most importantly, you are funny.  Hilarious in fact.  Like drawing-silly-pictures-on-a-chalkboard-while-naked funny.  Thank you for that.

Love,
Mom

From Daddy

hey izz

right now you are in gramma's bed, snoring, and dreaming of a princess knight.  i am being subject to the atrocity that is "V".  im sure it will reach a cult-like status by the time you are our age and will, no doubt, be searching for a copy for yourself.  well, its pretty awful so i hope you like campy sci-fi tv.

so you've started drawing real shapes and characters for the first time today.  you drew yourself (a big smiley face), a smiley sun, and birds (that kinda looked like crosses).  i was pretty proud to have an artistic 3 year old.

anyhow...being this is the very first entry on your blog time capsule, i think the most appropriate message for me to leave for you is that your mom and i love you very much.