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.
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.
I really think that…
You should go read this post.
I’m a sucker for any post written about Grandpas, but this one is particularly beautiful.
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.
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.
I don’t know how much more I can take. Seriously.
My husband just got laid off.
Honestly. I could die.
We were just looking for a new car for him since his broke down for good. We were also trying to work it in our budget to have the kids teeth fixed. And other things. They aren’t going to happen now and I just don’t know what to do. I feel numb. And scared.
Mostly scared.
updated.
A little bit of good news and right now, I’ll take every bit of good news, no matter how small.
Sub division of company will hire him on so that we get to keep our health insurance. (which is actually more than a little bit of good news.) However, he will no longer be on salary and will lose a $750 monthly vehicle allowance. Also, since he’ll not be on salary, he will only get paid for hours worked and well, right now, there isn’t any work. But, at least it’s something to help get us through, hopefully. And at the very least, we have health insurance, so I can breathe again because that would have sucked more than I can even express in words.
Thank you for your kind words, it helps. Every single bit of kindness helps.
Much love.
-Y
When in Doubt (or in Thyroid Hell) Post Pictures!
When I came home from BlogHer, I had all of these profound! And Wonderful! things that I wanted to write about. But I was tired. Very, very tired. So, I would say “I will write about it tomorrow after I catch up on my rest!”
Here we are 5 days later and I am still tired. The kind of tired that has me knocked flat on my ass and it hit me that it probably has nothing to do with the trip to San Francisco –a) I didn’t leave my time zone as it was in the same state b) I got more sleep while there than I normally do at home c) I did not once get drunk, which, CRAZY, I know!– and everything to do with my mother effing thyroid. It’s been over 2 months since my last TSH test and I am pretty sure that it’s crashing again and I need a medication adjustment. It’s not just “The Tired” that leads me to this conclusion, but also the fact that I’ve been doing boneheaded things, like, losing my cell phone (have never in my life lost a cell phone) and then losing the box with the charger to my new phone at the hotel. (p.s. if I had your number, can you please text me or email me your number again? Am feeling horribly lost without your names in my contacts list.)
Until this brain of mine is functioning again, which will hopefully be by tonight, because I really need my brain tonight, I am going to leave you with my favorite pictures from San Francisco. Lame, I know. Take it up with my thyroid, man.
Lindsay was a good sport and posed for a few shots while we were waiting for the trolley to leave. They ended up being some of my best shots. Ever.
The view from the Alpha Mom (a.k.a cheeseburger headquarters) Suite on the 11th floor of the Westin St. Francis. Strangely, there was no screen in the window, which made me very happy (because I could get awesome pictures) but also terrified me so much that my vagina went weak with fear. Like, literally, I felt the fear in my vagina as I leaned out.
Taken at the book signing for Sleep is for the Weak (the lovechild of Rita. I was supposed to be in that book, but being the flake that I am, forgot to turn in my stuff in time. Kicking myself for eternity for that one.
I stopped to take pictures of this man and his jewelery in an attempt to get rid of the homeless man who was trying to pick up on me. At first it was a great conversation, but then he asked if I was single while staring at my tittays and I was like “WHOA.” But still, he was nice, so I continued to be polite, but then he refused to believe that I was married because I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and I was like “this conversation must come to an end now!” I suppose that’s why I love this picture so much, because I will forever be reminded of the fact that a homeless man tried to “get with this” and that can only mean one thing… THAT I’VE STILL GOT IT.
This was taken on a cruise (thank you, Isabel! and Nintendo!) of the San Francisco Bay. I wanted a different perspective of the city lights, so I turned off auto focus and went for some preeeetty bokeh. I love the results. (And THANK YOU to Shutter Sisters for making this shot the “Daily Click.”)
And last, but certainly not least…
Because a room full of women whom I love, respect and admire wearing McDonald’s hats on their heads WHILE having Serious Conversations will never stop being funny to me. NEVER.
What Happens at BlogHer Most Definitely Does Not Stay at BlogHer
When I think back on the weekend, it’s the little moments that stand out and make me laugh out loud randomly throughout the day.
Like, the time I was on a boat with Isabel and was all “Look how beautiful the fog is. I love how it looks in the pictures!” and then I realized that it was not fog at all, but steam from the boat. “It’s ok, we can pretend it’s fog.” Isabel said, ever so sweetly.
Or the time that I farted while SJ was talking to me in the room and I had to announce it because I wasn’t sure if she heard it or not and well, it’s always better to be all “Yeah, I farted. JEALOUS?” Then to pretend like you didn’t fart at all.
Or the time that I kept talking to Lindsay during the keynote and she finally had had enough and was all “SHHHHHHHHHHHH!” And I kind of wanted to cry because well, SHE SHUSHED ME! But then I couldn’t stop laughing because “ha ha ha ha she shushed me.”
Or, the time I was hanging out in the men’s bathroom with a bunch of really hilarious women and one martini glass was sitting on the urinal and for some reason that I can’t remember, me and Jenny started singing “A Whole New World” and Mrs Flinger took out her video camera to record it without my knowledge and posted it on flickr.
And while I should pretend to be really pissed off that she did that, I can’t because it makes me weep with laughter seeing proof that I really was belting Disney tunes in the men’s restroom while completely sober.
And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons that I do and always will love BlogHer.
More to come tomorrow…
Oh San Francisco, You so Crazy.
Overwhelmed.
That is how I feel.
Overwhelmed with both good, bad. Happy. sad. Anger. Love.
But mostly good, happy and love.
This weekend will take days if not weeks for me to process. The love that I felt from both friends and strangers alike. The unwarranted ugliness in a crowded room. The sadness I saw watching a friend struggle to keep it together. The beauty I saw in a group of women whose positive energy (OMG. BIG FAT OPRAH HEAD) carried me through one of the most terrifying, yet amazing moments of my entire life. The cheeseburgers. Oh my GOD, the cheeseburgers.
I’ll write it all very soon, I just need to sort it all out first.
And by “sort it all out” I really mean “take a 4 day nap because Holy Mother of Hotel Security, I am tired.”
(P.S. I met some amazing women who have wonderfully written blogs and I look forward to sharing them with you in the next few days. Today, I really think you should go and read Lesbian Dad. I promise you that it will be worth your time.)
Hi. Where’s the Bar?
I am currently sitting in LAX waiting standby for a 5:30 flight into San Francisco.
Scratch that. I’m now waiting for a 7:30 flight because this flight is full
Of fucking course it is!
I’ve been here since 12:00 this afternoon.
Flight was canceled. Couldn’t get on a flight til the morning. Then got confirmed for a 9pm flight. Then was told I could go on United, which was like 4 terminals away.
I had to walk.
Feet are swollen and tore the eff up.
Had to go through security again.
Got selected for the “random search” OF COURSE I DID!!
I’m sweaty. Tired. Angry. And ready to punch the next asshole who steps on my mother effing toe.
Seriously? Why must everything go wrong for me? And if you tell me it’s because I need to put “Positive Energy” out to the universe, I’ll punch you in your big, fat Oprah head.
I don’t even know what a big fat Oprah head is, but I swear to GOD, I will punch you in it.
Oh Yes I Did Write a BlogHer Post.
I want to tell you a story about my first year at BlogHer.
I wasn’t particularly nervous about fitting in or any of that crap. I’m a “Make My Own Fun” kind of person and don’t really give a shit if people “invite me to sit at their table” or not. I knew that I’d have fun because I had a fabulous roommate and was looking forward to meeting the people I had come to know online through my blog.
When I arrived, things were just as I had imagined. Better, actually. And then “it” happened.
I had just finished doing the Alpha Mom interview and as I was walking out with my friend, someone asked what we were doing next.
“We’re going to the party in Super Star Bloggers room!”
The Exclusive Party That I Wasn’t Invited To.
“Um, I wasn’t invited to that party.” I said to my friend.
“Ohhhh.” she said. things got a little awkward. “Well, I am going.”
In that moment, I could have felt highly offended. I was snubbed! The PopEweLers! don’t like me! I’m a loser! Wah!
But, guess what? I didn’t care. In fact, I couldn’t have cared less. I didn’t have the energy to sit and pout because a bunch of people who I didn’t know and weren’t interested in getting to know me didn’t invite me to their party. There were people to talk to and booze to drink and Drive By Farters to laugh at.
At last years conference, while Elizabeth Edwards was speaking, my roommate Lena began passing “let’s have a party in our room!” notes back and forth.
“Who should we invite?”
“Whoever wants to come.”
“What about her, her and her?”
“Yes! And her and her, her her her and her!”
“Oh! and her!”
“How about we just tell people we talk to at the Cock! Tail! Party to come up to our room when it’s over!”
“We can go to 7-11 and buy booze! And fritos! And bean dip!”
“YES!”
At the party, I told everyone I talked to about our party.
“Come to our party in 2603”
“We’re having booze and bean dip in room 2603! Come join us!”
“Room 2603! Be there!”
When we got on the bus to go back to the hotel, I started to get a little worried.
“I’m scared that everyone will show up. What will we do if that happens?” I asked Lena.
“Um, how many people did you invite, Y?”
“Only… everyone that I talked to..”
We laughed and laughed. Then we got scared. What if everyone showed up? Or, even worse, what if absolutely NO one showed up?
Once we got to the room, we met up with Lindsay, SJ, and Kathy and decided to take a trip to buy “food and drink” for our party.
That trip to 7-11 is one of my favorite memories of the entire trip. Nothing funnier than a bunch of bloggers deciding which booze to buy for their hotel room party at 10pm on a Saturday night.
We were totally stoked with our bottles of booze and cans of bean as we walked the streets of Chicago. Now, I’m not trying to brag here, but as we were walking to our hotel room, I spotted a McDonalds and came up with one of my Top 10 Greatest Ideas in the History of My Life.
“Hey! Let’s grab some Cheeseburgers and fries to pass out at our party!”
And everyone was all “OMFG YES!”
15 minutes later, we were in our room with a dresser full of liquor and a bed full of McDonald bags.
Within a few minutes, people started filing into the room.
“Wanna Cheeseburger!” I’d say all happy like with my Bag Hat.
But, after about the 10th person, I started getting a little nervous because I’m totally scared of The Law. I had heard rumors about Security breaking up a room of FOUR people and so I was like “let’s try to keep it down, people.”
I lost count of how many people were filing into the room, but I can tell you that it was a lot. There wasn’t anywhere to stand, so people began sitting on our beds and on our pillows (WHILE EATING BEAN DIP.) and man, did it get loud.
Within minutes, we were out of cheeseburgers.
And it was sad.
God, it was so much fun being crammed into that room, talking to all of those people. Most of them I didn’t even know! And they didn’t know me! And yet, we sat on a bed and talked while drinking Smirnoff Ice.
Then, all of a sudden, someone came running in saying something about “Security’s coming!”
And Lindsay grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom where we hid because, I told you… SCARED OF THE LAW.
I would have stayed in there too, but they started asking questions.
“Who’s room is this?”
Shit.
So, I took off my Bag Hat, walked out of the bathroom scared shitless of the GIANT MEN who wanted to “have a word with me.”
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Is this your room?”
“Yes sir.”
And then, I said the dumbest thing that I bet that man has ever heard when breaking up a party.
“Sir, we’re just writers. We’re just writers talking. And eating cheeseburgers. We’re just writers,sir”
You can see that Big Dude is trying really hard not to laugh, which was good because he wasn’t smiling when I first started talking. He couldn’t hold it back any longer because… we’re just writers, sir.
The party couldn’t have lasted longer than an hour, but the memories that were made in that room that night still make me laugh so hard that it hurts a year later. I loved the experience of chatting with people who I might not have otherwise had the chance to talk to while wearing a bag on my head and that it seemed completely normal and not at all lame to everyone there. It was just one of the most absurdly hilarious nights of my life.
And guess what?
We’re doing it again this year. Only this year, it’s going to Kick So Much Ass because Isabel from Alpha Mom has graciously offered to host our party. And let me tell you, She knows how to throw a party.
If you’re going to be at BlogHer, Myself, Lindsay and SJ would love for you to join us on Saturday night. It will start around 9:30 pm. We don’t have a room number yet, so you’ll have to find one of us or you can email me and I’ll give you my number so we can get in touch.
MY GOD, my fingers hurt. No time to edit. Must go to sleep. Airport in 11 hours. WOO.