Laughter Through the Tears

My Grandpa is in the hospital again.
I went to see him and wasn’t allowed to get close to him due to a staph infection. That’s not the reason for his hospitalization, retention of fluid and difficulty breathing are.
It was painful to see him so swollen, barely able to talk. It was more painful to have to stand at the foot of his bed and not be able to hug him or hold his hand.
No matter how sick he gets, he never loses his sense of humor. He could barely talk, barely catch his breath, barely keep his eyes open and yet he managed to still make me laugh with his wicked, kind of perverted sense of humor.
That’s probably what I love about him the most. He’s always been funny. Always. And he continues to be funny even though his body is failing him ever so slowly.
As much as he made me laugh when I went to visit, he also broke my heart in a way that I’ve never experience before.
I had brought my children with me so that they could see him, but when we got to the Veterans Hospital, they told me that he had just been put in the isolation unit due to the staph infection and that the children would not be allowed to see him. Each one of them was upset because they love him and wanted to see him. Tony went to see him first. I waited downstairs with the kids. As we waited, Gabbers took out her spiral notebook and began to draw. When she was finished, she handed it to me and said “Give this to Opa from me, ok?” I folded it up, put it in my pocket and promised to give it to him.
I had every intention on giving him the picture as soon as I walked into his room, but when I saw him for the first time, I was stunned by his size (he’s gained over almost 30 pounds recently due to fluid retention) and forgot about the picture. However, as soon as he asked about the kids, I remembered and pulled it out of my pocket.
“They’re doing really good, Grandpa. They love you very much and are really sad that they couldn’t come up to see you. Gabby wanted me to give you this picture so you know she’s thinking of you!”
I handed it to my Grandma so that she could give it to him.
“He won’t be able to see it, Y.” She said. “He can’t see things anymore.”
I know he’s been losing his eyesight gradually, but this is the first time that it was presented to me in such a real way. This is the first time that I’ve given my grandparents a picture of (or from) one of my children and my grandmother didn’t pass the picture to him and say “look, Ray!”
I can’t put into words how deeply this affected me.
My Grandpa can no longer see.
I saw a sadness come over his face. I thought of how awful he must have felt in that moment. To know that his great granddaughter had made a picture for him and he couldn’t see it. I thought of the pictures that I send in the mail of the kids and how he can’t see them anymore. I thought of how much he loved to play cards and how he can’t play anymore because he can’t see.
Every time I think back to that moment, I want to cry.
And sometimes? I do cry.
But then… then I think of the way he laughed while I was there with him. How, in spite of how sick he is, he was still smiling. Still trying to make me laugh. I take comfort in that because even though his physical body is failing him, at the core of his being he’s still happy. Happy because he’s had a good life
And I’ve been blessed beyond measure to have been a part of that life.
I just received a comment that is so beautiful and expresses exactly how I feel so wonderfully, that I wanted to put it here with my post so that no one who reads this misses it. Thank you, Bridge

My great grandmother has lost her sight…and she’s a little forgetful.
But there is something so reassuring and inspiring about a well-lived life,
even housed in an imperfect and aging body. I want to be like her when I’m
a hundred…to have a soul so wise and beautiful that falling apart on the
outside is just secondary to who I am.

.

Uncensored

My daughter asks a million questions a day. Her most recent line of questioning is related to bodies.
“Mom, why we have teeth? To chew?”
“Mom, why we have hands? To touch things?”
“Mom, why we have ears? To hear things?”
I usually just nod and say “Yes! We have ears to hear!” and “Yes! We have teeth to chew!”
Today, she decided to take the questions to a place she’s never gone before and of course she did it while we were out amongst the general public.
Her (in her most sincere, but VERY LOUD voice): Mom? Do you have hair on your butt?
Me: (Smiling at the dude who turned his head to hear my answer, you know, to play it off as if my daughter did not just ask me if I have a hairy ass.) No, G. Mommy does not have hair on her butt.
Her: (Again, totally sincere, but also VERY LOUD): Ooohhhh. But do you have hair on your pachina?
Me: Um, Yes. I do. (Sorry, no brazilian wax for me because ha ha AM NOT GETTING ON ALL FOURS FOR A COMPLETE STRANGER.)
Her: Oh man. I wish I had hair on my pachina like you.
Me: Look! A bird! Flying!

Whoops!

I just deleted my Twitter account.
Twitter had become a time suck that had little- if any- benefit to my life at the moment. (although– knowing what y’all are doing throughout your day was damn fun to read. See: TIMESUCK!)
Things continue to crumble around us and I need to keep my focus on taking care of my family and keeping myself positive at all times. So, Twitter had to go.
(For now.)
(Because I already kind of miss it.)
(Except, not really.)

You would have called your pastor too if you had been forced to watch movies as a child where people were all baking cakes and stuff and then “poof!” they were gone!

To answer the question: “How are you guys doing?”
The company that hired my husband on after he was laid off doesn’t have any work. They’ve been trying to keep him busy doing odd jobs around the equipment yard, but on Friday, they told him to stay home today because there was nothing for him to do. I have a feeling he’ll be off all week. This is when the “you’re no longer on salary” shit starts to hurt.
Tony is trying to start a business which has very low start up costs and I have faith that he will make it work. I’m proud of him for being proactive and not sulking about what has happened to him. I fully support him in his new business venture and will do everything in my power to help him make it happen and be successful. I also have faith that good things will happen for me– things that I have been working hard for. I have to believe that they will pay off and my hard work will, at some point, be recognized and rewarded accordingly.
I’ve been continuing to pray every day and I started to read the bible. This is not the first time that I’ve read the bible on my own without anyone telling me what it all means, but the first time that I’ve stuck with it for longer than a couple of days. I find it hard at times to keep interest, because, you know– it’s totally different than a blog. Like, I can’t comment and be like “God, what does that mean? Email me! or ping me on G-chat when you have some time, k? Thanks!” (Also, I have an incredibly short attention span.) But then, I’ll read something that speaks to my soul, as if it were written just for me and I get sucked in, wanting to learn more. Wanting to understand what it all means and how it pertains to my life.
I’ve always found the bible to be a liiiiiiittle scary. Most of my memories of biblical teachings were of the “You’re going to burn in the pit of hell if you do not repent of your sins!” There wasn’t a whole lot of teachings of the Grace and love of God.
And don’t even get me started on the whole “Jesus is coming soon” sermons. SCARY.
Now, that’s not to say that I don’t believe in “The Rapture.” (Although, I’ll fully admit I started to roll my eyes when my dad would say that to me because YOU’VE BEEN SAYING THAT SINCE THE DAY THAT I WAS BORN AND WE’RE STILL HERE SO I’M NOT SCARED ANYMORE! But, that was probably just my rebellion and NOT my disbelief) However, there was a time I believed it and I feared it with every fiber of my being.
Example:
Anytime my parents were late coming home, I would start to panic. “The rapture most have happened! And I was left behind! I’m going to have to have my head chopped off to get into heaven!” But before I’d have a full on meltdown, I’d pick up the phone and call people who I was sure would not be “left behind”, like, our pastor! And if he would answer the phone, I’d rejoice because “The Rapture didn’t happen after all! I wasn’t left behind! I’m not going to have to have to suffer persecution to make it to heaven after all!”
(True story!)
Needless to say, I didn’t really experience a lot of the “Joy” that I hear people talking about when they speak of their faith.
I want to experience that joy. I’m ready to know what that feels like.
If you were raised in the Christian faith, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the Rapture. What were you taught about it? Do you believe in it as an adult? Do you think that we’re “living in the last days?” Your point of view will be valuable to me.

I’m going to go ahead and just call this “The Happy Birthday Blog!”

One of my best online friends celebrated a birthday today.
He is the person who kept me motivated when I lost weight after having my daughter– sometimes he used Asshole Motivation Techniques that made me cry**, but most of the time, he was supportive and kind and for that, he will always have a special place in my ass.
(ha ha. You thought I was going to say heart.)
I was finally able to meet him in April when I went to NYC and while there was a little bit of awkwardness in the cab ride on the way to dinner because ha ha ha! I’m riding in a cab with “Dateboy”, it really was like hanging out with an old friend.
I never posted the one picture we took together in NYC, because we both had a case of The Droopies. (My droopy eye. His droopy whole entire side of his face. Or whatever it was he said, because he doesn’t have any Droopy whatsoever, he was just trying to make me feel better. DROOP THIS, man.) But, I’ve accepted The Droopy Eye and so, here we are. Together at his office, just before we played about 30 rounds of Beer Pong (and when I say “we” I mean “Him and his friends” because he only let me play one game and then totally forgot I was there and so I had to pretend like I had to be somewhere so that I didn’t feel like a big giant asshole standing there by myself with a camera strapped around my neck.)
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I had the pleasure of meeting his drop dead gorgeous girlfriend and except for the part where I talked about milk squirting out of my tits and cried over dinner, it wasn’t awkward or weird at all hanging out with someone who I had never met or even had one internet conversation with. I emailed her today and asked her if she would like to post a birthday message to Michael on my blaawwwg and she was all “OMG! YES!”
Why I love The Internet
From Ruthie:

Today is a very special day because it is the birthday of the amazing, talented, caring, intelligent, wonderful guy, My Boyfriend, Michael. Although older… it appears that he hasn’t changed a bit.
bdaysuit

(Me: hahahahahhahhahahahaaa. And also? Awwwwww.)
Happy Birthday, Michael.
Love,
Me and Ruthie.
**That was only one time, he was laughing at me while I was trying my hardest on the treadmill saying things like “you suck!” Oh, yeah, and it was just a dream. So, I totally forgive him.

43 on 8.08.08

Today is my husband’s birthday.
43.
Wow.
He was 22 when I fell in love with him at the (illegal, under) age of 17.
It’s hard to wrap my mind around how quickly the years with him have passed. And how quickly his hair has morphed into the “Little in the middle, but still got much sides.” do. We would talk about growing old together when we were first married, but I had no idea I’d blink, shit out 3 kids and BAM. He’d be Forty Three.
Crazy, I tell you.
I wanted to post a few pictures of Young Tony, but sadly, there aren’t very many pictures of him as a small child. In fact, I do believe I’ve only seen 3 baby pictures of my husband.
Long story short, both of his parents abandoned him and left him in Mexico with his Grandparents. Luckily, his Aunt loved him enough to bring him to America and raise Him as her own.
I went through hundreds of pictures today hoping to find just one of Little Tonito and amazingly, I found one.
And amazingly, it was one of him cutting his birthday cake.
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This picture made me happy. Happy to know that despite all of the hurt he suffered as a small child, he did have moments of love and joy (thank you, Aunt Maria, for taking him as your own Son. Thank you so very much.)
Happy Birthday 43rd Birthday, Tony. You’ve aged well although I have to admit– I’m kind of shocked that you’re still as horny at 43 as you were at 25. But hey, I’m totally not complaining.

August Flird and The Number 4.

This is what you looked like at 6:39 am the day you turned 4 years old.

When you were a baby, I labeled you a “Drama Queen.” I know that it’s not nice to label people, but Girlfriend? There was no denying your dramatic ways.

This past year, I learned that your Dramatic Nature isn’t always a negative thing. Your flare for being a little bit over the top is proving to be an amazing asset. You can charm people where ever you go with your random singing. You don’t care who’s listening or where you’re at, if you want to belt out “Umbrella”, you belt it out with facial expressions and hip movements to boot. You almost always make the people around you smile or laugh out loud. When people tell you how beautiful you sing, you always say “Thank you so much! Have a great day and come visit me at my house, ok?”

Of course, not everyone finds your singing to be as precious as we do. Some people give you dirty looks and you’ll ask me “why is that lady mad, mommy?” I want to say “because she’s heartless witch!” But I usually tell you something like “not everyone appreciates hearing other people sing, because they like peace and quiet.” You’ll find out in time that there are jerks in the world who don’t like for other people to be happy in their presence. And you’ll learn to ignore them and keep being who you are, because you are wonderful and joy and sunshine on a cloudy day.

Can I talk a little bit more about your singing? Your singing is one of my favorite things in life. It brings me joy, laughter and sometimes, you’ll bring my to tears with the sweetness of your voice and the expressions you make while belting out a tune. I don’t know many people in the world who can take the numbers and turn them into a theatrical production. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.

When I think back on this past year, the two things (because singing and pink!) that come to mind are “Lipstick” and “Hair” because OH MY GOD THE LIPSTICK AND THE HAIR.

You’ve pretty much destroyed/took over every tube of lipstick that I own, but you especially loved my bright red Estee Lauder. You had to take it with you everywhere that we would go. You’d apply it repeatedly in the car on the way to wherever we were going. By the time that we would arrive at our destination, your lips (and most of your face) would be covered with bright, red gloss.

Oh, the shiny, red joy!

You eventually decided that lipstick just wasn’t enough and every single day, I’d find you in my bathroom, painting your face, Tammy Faye Baker style.
I don’t mind sharing my lipstick with you. Lipstick makes you happy and the one thing that I want for you in life is for you to be happy. But do you know what I do mind? The fact that you’ve become obsessed with a hairstyle called “The Princess Fiona.” Basically, TPF is when I pull your hair back into a pigtail and then leave a few long pieces in front for you to flip around all princess like. I have no idea why you named it that, but every single time that I do your hair you say “I want it like Princess Fiona” and I will get annoyed and say “how about I do it like Princess Leah!’ And you’ll start to whine and say “No! I want it like Princess Fiona!” and I’ll say “How about I put a beautiful braid!” And you’ll get REALLY ANGRY and say “MOMMY JUST PUT IT LIKE PRINCESS FIONA BECAUSE THAT IS HOW I LIKE IT.”

I get frustrated because you have the most beautiful hair in all of the land and I could do so many beautiful things with it, but you are unwilling to let me. Except for once in a while, when you’re in a really good mood you’ll let me do something beautiful with it.

Hard Choices

But, it never lasts for long. Before I know it, you’re ripping out the braid or buns and asking for me to put it like Princess Fiona.

I have proof of how much you love the Princess Fiona do. A few weeks ago, you were in your room quietly reading books. Or so I thought. “Mom, don’t worry. I cut my hair beeeeeautiful.” You shouted from your room.
My heart dropped. I ran to your room and found you standing in front of the mirror with the scissors in your hand, a mass of hair on your dresser and freshly cut, very short bangs. You were very proud of yourself until you realized that, um, you had very short bangs and you could no longer do your hair like Princess Fiona because OH MY GOD THE BANGS ON YOUR FOREHEAD.

This went on for a couple of hours. You’d stop crying, then you’d feel the bangs on your forehead, try to rip them off and when you were unsuccessful, the tears would began to fall again. It was probably the most traumatic experience of your 4 year old little life and I am sorry that I laughed, but I’m sure by the time you’re old enough to read this, you’ll laugh too.

I’m not quite sure how to end this post. There is so much I remember, so much I want to tell you, so many things that I want everyone who reads this to know about you, my sweet Lil G. Because…You? You are simply wonderful in every way.

Smart. Thoughtful. Stubborn. Affectionate. Polite. Considerate. Independent. Hilarious. Talented.

Some of your characteristics have the potential to get you into trouble in life. That is why I take my job as your mother very seriously. I want to steer you in the right direction, correcting you and setting you straight when it’s called for, but also never wanting to break your spirit. I know what it’s like to have your spirit broken. I know what it’s like to be told your dreams will never come true. I know what it’s like to be too ashamed to stand up for yourself. So, I will make sure you know the power of your voice, but also know that there is a time to be quiet, listen, learn and plan your next move. I am and will always do everything in my power to make sure you choose the right path for you.

Before I end, let me say one (or 10) more thing(s).

I am in awe of you and always will be because you are the daughter I never thought I’d have. Thank you for bring joy into my life. Thank you for “fixing my hair” when “it’s so ugly.” Thank you for “helping me clean” (even if it really means “making more of a mess.”) Thank you for telling Daddy he should make me eggs for breakfast when I’m working. Thank you for reading me stories. Thank you for not saying “Asshole” anymore because that could have got me into a LOT of trouble with Gramma and Grammpies. But mostly, thank you for bringing joy, love and perfectly timed farts into my life.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

Happy, Happy Birthday, Beautiful Girl of mine.

More Thoughts on The Lay Off of 08 and Hopefully the LAST Thoughts About It.

Every Thursday my husband gets his paycheck in the mail. Normally included with the paycheck are maps/information of upcoming jobs.
For the past 3 or 4 month there haven’t been any maps.
So, every Thursday, PigHunter will walk through the door and ask “Did I get my check.”
“Yes.” I answer.
“Were there any maps?”
“No.” I’d say.
And we’d both give each other a look and I’d feel fear in the depths of my soul because no maps= no new jobs= you’re probably going to get laid off.
But, we had hope that things would turn around.
Then, there was talk of the company bidding jobs in Oklahoma and we began having discussions about moving vs staying. Because I completely understood the severity of the situation, I was prepared to move out of California, away from my entire family and all of my friends without a fight.
One day he called from work to tell me that the company got the jobs in Oklahoma. I wanted to cry, both out of sadness for knowing I’d have to move away from the only place I’ve ever known and out of relief because my husband still has a job.
Then, last week, we found out that the news of landing the contracts in Oklahoma were false. They bid too high and lost out to another company.
Friday morning PigHunter called on his break. “Babe? Can you go online and start looking for jobs through the city?”
“WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME TO DO THIS?”
“Because… there’s no work. We have absolutely NO work.”
In that moment, I knew something bad was going to happen. I just didn’t know it was going to happen 2 hours later.
When my husband walked in the door later that afternoon, I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong. I was too chicken shit to ask. I didn’t want to hear bad news. I didn’t think I could take it. So, I walked up and hugged him. “How are you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he took me by the arm and said “I need to talk to you.”
“Don’t panic,” He said as he shut our bedroom door. “But I no longer work for *insert company name here* Construction.”
“WHAT?” I screamed.
“Baby.”
I started to cry. And then, I started to panic.
“Honey!” He said. “Look at me!”
I couldn’t look at him. I just couldn’t.
How will we pay our bills? How will we feed our children? And Oh my GOD, health care! I am sick, I am so sick and still have tests that need to be done and medication that needs to be prescribed! And my children. What will I do if they get sick? And THEIR TEETH! THEIR TEETH NEED WORK AND OH MY GOD… WHY?
“Daddy?” Gabby called out from her bedroom.
“One minute, sweetie” my husband called out. “I’m talking to mommy.”
“But Daddy! I need you!”
“Go see what your daughter needs. I need a minute to compose myself anyway. Just go!”
As soon as he left the room, I called Jenny. I needed to talk to someone who could help calm me down. I feel so bad for calling and dumping on her the way that I did. I was hysterical. But, she’s so wonderful. Just hearing her understanding, reasonable voice helped calm me down. Within a few minutes, I was able to sit down and have a someone rational conversation with my husband.
The way things stand right now, he’s been hired on with a different division of the company so that he can keep health insurance, but since there is literally NO WORK, we don’t know how long it will last. We’re going to see a huge decrease in income and I don’t make enough to cover the loss. I don’t know what we’ll do, or how we’ll be able to make ends meet, but I do know that there are things I can do to start saving money.
I will cancel gym memberships. I will have home phone shut off. I will cancel all non-important subscriptions (napster, etc) I will not run the air conditioner unless absolutely necessary (already went to home depot to buy fans) I will hang dry clothes. I will not make a single trip to Starbucks. I will break the news to my sweet little girl who turns 4 next week that Mama will not be taking her to Disneyland like we had planned, but instead will have the family over for cake and ice cream and keep that money in savings. I’m sure there are more expenses I can cut, but for now, these are the things that come to mind
I will also began looking for evening employment. I have a day job working with a company that love, but it’s not enough anymore. I need to do more to get my family through this crisis.
I’m walking around with this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing that my husband is barely hanging onto this “replacement job” and that any day now, that could be taken from him leaving us without a paycheck and even worse, without health insurance.
It’s funny, for the last few weeks, I’ve been continuing to have conversations with God. I’ve expressed to him my desire to believe in him. Just last week, I had a conversation with my dad about faith. “I just have a hard time believing it’s as simple as believing.”
“That’s why so many people struggle, Mija. They can’t accept that it really is that simple.”
And that night, I prayed and told God that I was going to have faith. That I was simply going to believe that he exists and that he cares for me.
And now, I’ve been given the ultimate test.
I’ll say it here right now.
I’m scared. I’m so scared that it’s hard to eat. I’m so scared that it’s hard to speak. I’m so scared that it’s hard to sleep.
But I have faith that God will help us get through this. I have faith that he will give me the strength and wisdom to find a way to make it all work.
And please don’t mistake that to mean that I think God is going to solve all of our problems for us. I refuse to believe that God is a personal genie. But I am going to have faith that he is watching out for us and will look to him for strength.
It sure beats the alternative.