*sigh* Today has been an interesting day. I have not been feeling too well recently, I’ve been cheating on my wheat-free diet and am suffering the consequences. I love wheat. I love pasta, cakes, cookies, bread, bagels, challah, brownies, matzoh, you name it. After Passover this year, I noticed that I felt considerably better than usual. I figured it was due to both the Spiritual and physical adherence to Kashrut law during Passover and so I decided I would continue on without eating leavened bread (which spread to all wheat products) and keep kosher on Shabbos.

I used to keep kosher by default. I was vegan, then vegetarian, and didn’t have to worry about it. I’ve always had digestive issues, and was told it was because I likely had Crohn’s, because my father had Crohn’s and apparently it’s hereditary. Well, as it turns out, he never had Crohn’s, and neither do I. I do, however, have IBS. Something I’ve never discussed because frankly, it’s embarrassing and awful. When I say I’ve never discussed it, I really mean that aside from with my doctors, my moms-by-choice, and one woman at a shul I visited who confided in me that she suffered also, I’ve never discussed it. Not even with Jessica. Which leads me to the title of the post. Today, I finally admitted to her why I have “off” days where I don’t want to go out and do things, and what it’s really about. I explained to her (to the best of my ability), what happens to me. I hated it, and now she wants me to go to the doctor. I’ve told her I’ve talked to enough of them to know that there is no definitive test for it, and that really, you get diagnosed sort of as a catch-all/default. She said if being wheat-free doesn’t help, she wants me to go in again. That’s the issue…the wheat and the sugar. Well, and caffeine too, which I feel like I *need* to function (and yes…I know that it’s an addiction. It is my one vice).

So here I sit. Out. I’ve disclosed my personal demon to my wife, and now to all of cyber-space. Frankly, I don’t have a huge readership so I’m not feeling all that vulnerable. I need to figure out how to really be wheat-free, how to be honest about my sugar consumption, and to live with this as it is, instead of pretending it’s “nothing”. I welcome any comments or suggestions, as this is something that, while I’ve lived with it for a very long time, I don’t actually know how to and it’s new to me.

This weekend was long and overwhelming. So many people, so much to do, and it all went by SO fast. My son wanted a Batman birthday party this year. He has a tendency to be “off” season with his birthday choices. For #2 he wanted Curious George, but there wasn’t a lot of stuff. For #3 he *had* to have Harry Potter. There was NOTHING for a three year old. We made it happen though. This year, I thought…Batman will be easy, people love superheroes! Not-so-much. Tons of Spiderman, Transformers, etc. But we had to piece together his party stuff, and we made it happen. I hand-made his invitations (with the help of some awesome friends…I’m so grateful that I have people who help me turn my ideas into stuff), we got all the decorations, and Jess even got a Batman jump house. Originally we were going to serve the kids hot dogs, but then I got the idea to ask D if he’d rather have a “make-your-own-pizza” party. The kids had an AMAZING time with it, and I got the pre-made dough from Trader Joe’s, but it was still a lot of work. I’m going to take this moment and just say that I have the most amazing group of family/friends. I didn’t have to do it all alone, and I am SO grateful. We are so blessed! We have worked hard to cultivate the group of people we have, and even though there is sometimes a touch of drama here and there, our house is always filled with love. Our parties often last all day, and when in doubt, in trouble, or even just hungry, people tend to navigate here. I love it. As much as I was *DONE* (for reasons I am about to explain) by the afternoon, the way we work here, people just stayed and it was low maintainence and good.

So, Sunday morning I got up at 7 a.m. and got a quick shower in. Our surrogate mom and dad, E and G, got here at 8 to feed us breakfast and help with all the decorations. They have no children and have adopted us. We adore them, and they really are like surrogate parents, with no issues/baggage.  I ran over to Trader Joe’s and Jess went with G to the bakery to get the cake. As I was driving, I was going over the guest list again in my head. I realized that Margene wouldn’t be here, and it hit me how…for the last 3 years, all of the planning and preparation I have had her to help me, to run ideas by, and just…here. I got sad and I cried.

I got all the food and stuff at TJ’s and headed home. The house was buzzing! The jump house guy (For anyone local, I have his number…great deal, super professional, and gorgeous jump house!) was here and I was getting calls on my cell left and right. My friends started to arrive and all jumped in to help. Before I knew it, it was 11:30 and the kids started to show up (the ones who were coming just for the party) and it started to get crazy. I was buzzing around the kitchen, getting things ready, planning how to get all the pizzas through the oven and and and and.

Then, there is a knock on the door, I spin around to go open in, and in walks my mother. AND!!! To make it even more fun…my aunt, who I haven’t seen since I was 18. Now, my mother, who lives AN HOUR AWAY, has never met my son. Couldn’t come when he was born. Couldn’t come to any other birthday party, or his baby blessing, or ANYTHING else…but decided to show up when I had 50 people in my house. I am glad I wasn’t holding anything, I would’ve dropped it. And I didn’t even know what to say. I almost asked them to leave, especially when my Aunt said, “Do you want us to go, we can go”. I almost said, “Yes, please leave. You were technically invited, but it was more obligatory at this point”. I decided in that moment, not to be selfish. To let her see her grandson, to see what she has missed. After all, she *did* make the drive over. It was all so awkward and weird and surreal.

She stayed about 2 hours. I stayed away from her for the most part. Not really on purpose, but I had so much to do that I couldn’t exactly go sit with her. She hung out with Jess, and talked to D. She took a lot of pictures and she watched D open his presents. I don’t even really remember her leaving.

When she got to the house, she handed me an envelope and said it was just for me, to be read later. It looked like a letter, and I thought it was. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and pulled out two “email forward-style” letters. Copied. One was about attitude and the other about raising a daughter. I’m not sure if my mother was trying to admit where she and I diverge, or if she is delusional. I hope it’s the former, but I’m not holding my breath. It is so weird to be in this position where I’m not desperate for my mother’s love anymore. I had Margene to show me what “maternal love” looked like. And I have Denise, who shows me what “maternal support” looks like. I am no longer starving for her to love me and support me. And it feels great. I know she loves me as much as she can, and that she and I will always be different. Knowing all of that, I cannot fight the urge to keep my son away from her inconsistent and often harsh ways. It’s like I would never knowingly drop him into a vat of crocodiles.

I don’t know what to do from here. I feel like I should acknowledge her effort, but don’t want to encourage her to do something that was uncomfortable. And, I feel…badly…but he has Grandmas. I don’t know. Jess is of the opinion that since her mom is now gone, D really should have some kind of relationship with mine. But, Denise represents “Grandma” on my side of the family. Margene was like his adoptive Nanny. And now, she swoops in…I want to be grateful, but I’m fearful.

I need to go shower. I work for a few hours today. I’m sick, again…stupid antibiotics. I’m over it! I’m over coughing, over sneezing, wheezing, all of it. I want to be HEALTHY. Well, healthy and pregnant, but I guess that will have to wait.

I appreciate any insight on this…and will answer any questions for clarification. I’m genuinely in a strange spot, and something has got to give. Oh, and I’ll post some pics of the b-day later tonight!

Tomorrow is Deylan’s birthday party. I have been planning this for months. Well, me and whole team of my friends. My “baby” is growing up so fast. The other day I was driving home from the doctors office and I was thinking about Jess’s mom. I started thinking about D sitting behind me and how I would handle it if I was going to die. I’m not afraid of death, I have no dear of the act of dying. I *do* have a fear of leaving my son. As I was thinking about it, I just started to cry. I couldn’t help it. The thought of leaving my child scared me. I’ve never really thought about it. Now that it has been harder for us to have a second child, I’m facing the thought that D might be an only child. I’m looking at the pain that Jess and her sisters went through when her mom passed. Then I saw his sadness if I was to die and I was overwhelmed. I’m not usually a morbid-thinking person…this was just a trail my mind went down without my permission. I don’t know what it is…I feel so attached to my boy…my baby. Who is no longer a baby.

I can’t believe that on Wednesday, he will be FOUR! Long gone are the days I can count my child’s age in months. Quickly approaching are “real” school and requests for privacy. I think that I will actually die a little inside the day my son stops wanting “snuggles and buggles”. I love my wife, and when we fell in love, it was like nothing I’d ever been a part of. Even that doesn’t come close to the way I’ve fallen in love with my son. I am so incredibly blessed to have a wonderful family. We have our issues, of course, but I am grateful for the little piece of happiness that we have carved out.

Today we went to Val’s for D’s birthday dinner. I can’t possibly begin to explain how amazing it feels to sit at those tables. The tables my grandmother sat at. The tables my mother and father sat at. I have been going to that restaraunt since I was in utero, since I wasn’t even a thought in my mother’s head. I have shared this with as many people as will go with me. This grungy hamburger diner, where they only take cash, and if you show up at the wrong time, you will wait for upwards of an hour for a table. The waitresses are getting nicer, when I was younger sometimes they were so mean you wouldn’t even tell them if your food was wrong. They don’t have a large menu, and the only thing that has changed there in YEARS is the prices. The first time we took D there, he was absolutely uninterested. He loved hamburgers, but refused to eat one there. It made my heart sad. But now, he loves it, and requested it as his “birthday dinner”! We were late, grumpy, and ready to take out a small fishing village when we arrived. Thankfully, the food didn’t take long and once everyone was eating, the anxiety went away. It actually made me miss my maternal grandmother a little bit.

I have just been informed that Jess wants a Long Board with big, off-road wheels for her birthday. I’m more writing this tidbit here as a reminder for myself than anything.

As I approach this four year milestone, I’m also at a huge crossroads in my life. Being around Camille has reignited some serious stuff. We are so in sync and we’ve always had this dream of owning a salon together. I love doing hair, and she’s is really in to make-up, and we just have a great plan for a salon that people like us would love to go to and we would love to work at. At the same time, I can’t really be going to cosmetology school until next year, and she needs to get the ball rolling sooner. She also has other goals she’s trying to attain, and I’m trying to figure out what exactly my other goals are. I absolutely love photography and feel really called toward being a “real” (i.e.: paid) photographer. I don’t like taking “normal” pictures though, I love to play with size and shape, angles, views. I don’t know how a person like me could really find work as a photographer. All in all, that is my problem. I can see the awesomeness (yup, I typed that) in other people’s dreams. Camille tells me she wants to start a portfolio and the wheels turn…I start to see how it could work and what it could look like. And in more than one way. But for myself…I just can’t see it. I don’t understand it. I feel frozen sometimes. I’ve worked with children for so long (15 years) and while I love it on some levels, I long to do something creative. I would really find a certain level of bliss working with Camille, and yet I feel unsure of how to make it happen. How do I follow my bliss when I don’t even know what it is? I would love to cut hair…but is it “the” thing? Taking pictures makes me feel pure joy. Is it “the” thing? I love being a mother, and while I love taking care of my family, I need hobbies and I need some kind of creative career. I want it, but further more, I need it. How do I go about it? What are my next steps? Can anyone see them for me?

Oh! Here’s my WTF moment of the day: This morning, I saw a small spot on my wrist. A slightly brownish spot that wasn’t raised or anything, but was irregular, and certainly wasn’t there the day before. As my wife has had skin cancer removed, and I used to be a serious (valley girl) sunbather as a teenager, I flipped out a little. I poked it. I scratched at it. I realized it hurt a little. So I kept picking at it. In my head, I’m thinking, “Oh crap, is this some kind of pre-geriatric liver spot? Have I gotten skin cancer? What the hell is this spot?!” After I’ve almost picked it off, I realize that last night, when I forgot my tart-let in the oven, it dripped all over the bottom of the oven. When the oven had cooled, I went to wipe it out and accidentally touched my wrist to the metal shelf in the oven. *doh* Yeah. No liver spots, not skin cancer (B”H), just a tiny burn. I didn’t even have that much sangria last night. Somehow I just completely forgot that it had happened. Yup. I’m AWESOME! :-/

I am a very curious person. I like to know where doors lead, what makes things turn colors, how things work, and how other people live. It is because of my curiosity that I became very addicted to “reality” television. When I was a teenager, The Real World was just coming out. It was fantastic to watch “seven strangers, picked to live in a loft, and find out what happens, when people stop being polite, and start getting real”! I always watched, and learned quite a bit about how people live in other parts of the world (mostly the US, but a couple other places). As time went by, The Real World deteriorated into “The Drunk World” and “The Model/Musician/Actress World”. People have become professional “reality” show stars. It’s sad.

On Twitter, I love that the people I follow are just there, being themselves. In my personal “Twitter Hallway” (thanks to a blog by @leahjones) there are friends, musicians, clergy, straight people, gay people, Jews, Episcopalians, people from many places around the world…and even Perez Hilton. I like to keep up on the interesting tidbits in the entertainment world, so I followed him. My curiosity got the better of me. I know that gossip isn’t cool…and I try to refrain from malicious gossip. This morning, when I opened up my TweetDeck,  Perez had posted “proof” that Adam Lambert was gay. Now, never once did I feel like I needed or wanted “proof” of that poor man’s sexuality. I knew he was gay, and it wasn’t just the eyeliner. But that didn’t stop me from clicking on the link. I was curious. And then, when I saw him holding hands with his boyfriend, and the sheepish smile across his face, I was ashamed of myself.

My curiosity made me feel ill. I have no right to the intimate details of ANYONE else’s life. I am not privy to those details because they do not involve me. One of the things I love about Twitter is that, for the most part, everyone is on an even playing field. The people I follow are awesome, down to earth (mostly) and just real folks. I love the fact that at any given time, I may be passing any of those people and saying a kind word or getting a little inspiration. There are jokes, contests, silly and serious conversations, and even company while watching tv.

I can no longer be as “up on the gossip” as I used to be. Despite my efforts to be a better person, I feel like this area is really holding me back. So, I’m letting it go. Goodbye Perez Hilton. I’d say I wish you continued success, but if it comes at the cost of ruining people’s lives…I can’t.

Today, I worked on my day off. No big deal, people do it all the time, but it was a little taxing. More importantly, as I was driving back to take the kids back to their parents, I got rear-ended. I was turning on to their street and this kid didn’t see my turn signal. It wasn’t a bad crash, a little scary though. No damage to my car at all, all people were okay. It ended up okay, and it’s all good, but it scared the sh*t out of the poor kid who did it. He had tears in his eyes and I wanted to hug him. Then I had to run my rent over to the property management group, and I FINALLY got home at 7:30. On my day off. yeah, seriously.

I’ve been really trying to get the rest of yesterday’s post out. And the rest of the party stuff done. And and and and.

I have so much to do and my day is over. I need to go to bed. I can’t wait until the 20th when I take D to the “Creating Jewish Bedtime Rituals” event. I think it will really enrich bedtime with D.

My laptop is on fire. I need someone who is awesome with these things to clean it up and figure out what it’s issue is. I have no friggin’ idea what is important to this machine and what isn’t.

Jess is wearing a Holter monitor. After her palpitations last week, she is seeing a cardiologist and they are having her wear the monitor for 24 hours and write down any symptoms she has. I’m really hoping that this helps with some of the weird symptoms she’s been having. The near black out, the paliptations, the chest pains. I just want her to figure out what is going on. She literally cannot make it through a day without sleeping anymore. And that is *with* her cpap at night. It’s scary, and on top of the other issues, it’s just too much.

On that note: I’m going to bed. I’ll write before work tomorrow.

***This was a wicked old entry, from March, that got lost in the draft section***

Before vacation, I was driving home from work and I saw a baseball team running around a park when I was stopped at a stop light. I immediately flashed back to all those years of playing baseball and softball. Miserable years of being forced to play because my brothers did, and my parents thought it would be “good for me”. *sigh* My parents (well, my bio-mom and step-dad) never really knew me. Anyway, I’m at the stoplight, and my mind goes to the dark side. I see the boys and all I can think is “I don’t want my kid doing that”. Light turns green and I start driving past the boys. I pass the big pack of them and see (for lack of any other way to put it) the “fat kid” running behind, flushed, and my heart just leaps out of my chest toward him. As I start to have a moment, I realize that there are two boys wearing uniforms, running behind the kid. They are cheering him on, running with him, and making sure he finishes the lap. My eyes actually welled with tears. I felt so amazingly proud of those boys. Whether they were the coach’s kids, or just awesome boys, didn’t really matter in that moment. Those boys renewed my faith in children in that moment.