The Cake Leg Conundrum

I shaved my legs today.
I don't do it every day.
In fact, during the winter,  I shave just enough to keep my husband from mistaking me for a stuffed animal left in our bed at night.
During the warmer months, any month I might wear something other than jeans in public, I try to do a little more upkeep.
Honestly, though,  I tend to shave my legs more for my husband these days than I do for myself. It is something I know he appreciates.  Therefore the effort is worth it to me.
Today, though, I shaved my legs and afterward I wondered why. He isn't here to appreciate it. No one else is going to be feeling up my legs. So, who would have noticed my incredibly blonde leg hair but me. 
The more I think about it, I realized shaving my legs is a little like baking a cake for me, which I also did today. (Well, cupcakes, but you know what I mean).  When you bake a cake, you do it to enjoy it, but it just isn't the same if someone else doesn't get to enjoy it with you, and tell you how wonderful it is and what a great job you did. Tonight, I went through the effort of making vanilla cupcakes from scratch with The Girls. Afterward,  they went on and on about how good it was and how happy they were that we made them.
See, if I am going to go through the effort of shaving and them exfoliating my legs like I prefer to do, I need those accolades afterward to make it worth my while. With my husband deployed,  I just don't get it.
The Girls do occasionally touch my legs, complain about how prickly I am and request that I shave. So perhaps I could show them, just to get some kind of reaction, even if it is relief that they no longer get poked when they try to snuggle with me.  That really isn't the same, though. 
I don't think This is a major break through of any kind. I'm sure I will still have to begrudgingly shave my legs a few time over the next few months even though he won't be here to appreciate it. Moreover, I am absolutely positive That I will making cupcakes for and with The Girls again as well, perhaps even more often than I will shave my legs. After all, at least they really appreciate that and will even go so far as to clean up after only being ask once for the cakes. That is worth way more than a smooth leg to me right now for sure.

Justice for Children

Like every other basically good person in this nation who has seen or heard anything about the Casey Anthony trial, I am deeply disturbed that she got off on the murder charges.  I can't say that I think being found not guilty on the murder charges was the wrong verdict as far as the jury goes.  I believe the jurors when they say there wasn't enough evidence, and that isn't their fault.  I do think they could have found her guilty on child neglect for not even reporting her child missing for 30 days, but at least they found her guilty of something considering how little there really was to go on.  The fact that the jury acted properly, though, doesn't in any way negate the fact that I feel Caylee was robbed of justice.


Justice means many things, but one of the definitions is the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.  Equitableness.  There should be equality in the outcome of this case.  Caylee lost her life, and somehow, Casey should be forced to do the same for it to be equitable, be that the death penalty or life in prison.  That would be justice.  
People are truly outraged that a mother would do this to her own child and get away with it.  So, I have to wonder, will someone, somewhere, try to bring justice for Caylee?  


I was just watching the news, and one of the many people outside the courtroom, holding signs and showing their anger at the verdicts, said that any one of the people there that day would be glad to kill Casey.  I'm sure he meant it.  I'm sure there are a lot of people right now that should the position open up, would gladly volunteer to be the one throwing the switch if Caylee had gotten the death penalty.  In fact, I would say that when it comes down to anyone convicted of murdering a child, there would be no shortage of people who would gladly volunteer to fulfill the duties of an executioner on a murder's judgement day.  


Crimes against children are the worst.  They can't fight for themselves.  We are supposed to protect and nurture our children.  We are supposed to love and care for them.  When life gets hard, or we realize that parenting isn't what we thought it would be, murder or in any way harming the child is not an option.  There are other options.  


A mother I know is going through a lot right now because her husband couldn't take their babies constant screaming and while she was at work open day, he shook the baby.  That is not an option.  There are other ways.  
You put the child down.  You walk away.  You call someone, anyone.  No matter what it is, you find another way.  No child deserves to be harmed.  No child deserves to have their life taken away because you, the parent or caregiver, couldn't handle it.  I can guarantee you that in Caylee's case someone would have taken that baby and loved her, even if her mother didn't.  Instead, a life full of potential was taken.  That should never happen.  


I hope there is justice somehow, someway, not just for this child, but for every child out there who deserves it.  

This is So Not Romantic

Last night, when I got up at around 2am with heart burn for only the second time in my life, and I sat there for like 30 minutes until it subsided enough for me to go back to sleep, I started contemplating all the misconceptions there are about pregnancy.  Yes, I was hating on it.  The thing is, I think that long before we have children, we are very misguided and uninformed.  Not only about the physical aspects about pregnancy, but we have no understanding of the emotional toll that being pregnant takes, either.
I think the biggest emotional misconception is that we, especially as women, have some very miss guided notion that pregnancy is some romantic thing we do with out partner to bring us closer together.  In fact, I believe that is also part of the teen pregnancy problem.  They see this as something that they will do with their boyfriend that will only cement their relationship.

Let me clear that up.  Getting pregnant is the romantic part.  Being pregnant is not.

There is absolutely nothing romantic about spending three months of your life hunched over a toilet or sink, ralphing your guts up every day, while your partner either tries to stay out of the way, or gets so sick they can't take it, either.  They may feel for you.  They may have sympathy.  My husband did the first time around.  He tried to be sweet, caught up in the emotion that this was our child, and something he should be a part of.  As I would lean over the sink, and vomit to the point I felt like it was never going to stop, at first, he would try to rub my back, or talk to me.  It only took a few times, though, for me to indicate, in probably the most blunt tactless way possible, that I didn't want to be touched while vomiting, for him to realize that wasn't the best role for him.  Get me a towel or wash cloth ready so that I can clean up afterward, and just don't say anything about how bad I look from the extreme exhaustion and vomiting, and you're good.

When you lay in bed, unable to sleep because all of the extra hormones in your body cause insomnia, and he lays beside you snoring, unwilling to stay up with you and snuggle, or even totally unaware of how little sleep you are getting, it isn't romantic.  In fact, it gets to be a tad infuriating.  Many nights, I have felt like taking a cue from someone I know, who once told me that she would sit up at night, pregnant and unable to sleep, and tap her husband's eyelids.  Apparently, it is just aggravating enough that they can't sleep well, and wake up all groggy, but not forceful enough to actually have them wake up and know what you are doing.   I call that brilliant and it is exactly what I feel like doing.

That is just the beginning, too.  Your body changes, adding stretch marks, and growing in places you don't really want it to.  Even though the fact that your boobs get bigger may sound like a plus, that is all until you realize that they will start to leak a little right around the time the baby comes.  Of course, in the end, there is the delivery, something that I think is the antithesis of the romance of conceiving.  While I will never deliver vaginally,  I can't imagine that watching a baby get pushed out of your vagina creates feelings of romance.  Love, certainly.  Awe, surely.  Not romance, though.
I'm not sure why people think all of this is supposed to be some romantic fantasy.  I can assure you, it really isn't.
I'm not saying that, when you are ready for children, they aren't worth it.  I just think that people need to know the truth, especially young people.  This part isn't pretty.  It isn't fun.  At least, not for me.
So, when you are ready, have kids.  Lots of them.  Just go into it knowing the good stuff comes after the baby is born.  New stuff that you will love and the romance will come back, too.  When it does, you will appreciate it so much more than before, too, that you will love and appreciate what romance you do get all the more.

I Don't Want To Eat Alone

Tonight, the family and I went out to eat. Nothing fancy, but it is one of our favorite places, a large salad bar buffet kind of place.

After we had been there a few minutes, I noticed a woman walk over and sit in front of us. I may not have paid any real attention to her but I noticed She looked at us a couple of times. Then I realized She was alone.

I would guess she was in her early forties. There was no ring on her finger. She wore nice, business type attire, and left a decent tip on the table. So, I believe her to be unmarried and working, an independent woman if you will. That is all fabulous and I'm sure she has far more pairs of shoes than I could ever afford.

She sat at a small table against the wall, and ate all by herself. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't help but notice and think about it.

I couldn't do that. I could not go out alone to eat like that. Perhaps she is simply braver than I, more courageous, or just more of a woman than I will ever be, but I really felt a little bad for her.

At first I want to be the liberated strong feminist who thinks "good for her. She can do anything she wants to do", but the reality is, I would not want to eat alone, no matter how fabulous I was.

Eating out is such a social thing to do. Perhaps that is to our detriment in this nation, but none the less, it is a very social thing to do. I'm sure there are occasions where eating alone is more acceptable, probably much more so later on in life where is it more likely that a spouse has passed, but to be youngish and have no one to eat with just seems lonely to me.

She may have children, but why not wait until they could go with you to eat? This wasn't fast food and grabbing a bite, but sitting down to graze kind of place. Why wouldn't you call a friend, or someone else to just hang with?

I'm not judging her in the least. If her life works for her, then I think it is fantastic. I do have to wonder if her life works for her, though. I hope it does.

Maybe she was staring at us because she wished she were with a family, or perhaps she was staring at us thinking about how glad she was not to have to feed children, wipe mouths, keep buts in seats, and that she got to eat in relative peace, minus the chaos spreading from our table outward.

How ever it works out, I hope she is happy in her life where it is, and if not, then I hope she finds her own happiness soon.

Detour Ahead

Ever feel like you made a wrong turn in life?

Lately it seems that is all I do. I feel like I am nearly constantly lost. Just when I find the path that will lead me back to where I want to be, some how I make yet another wrong turn and get lost all over again. In the real world we live in, I have no sense of direction. Apparently, this has become true of my emotional self as well.

The biggest problem with all this unlike day to day life, I can't run down to Best Buy and get a GPS to guide me through my emotional and spiritual affairs. There is no GPS, no manual, nothing that actually helps. Truthfully, though I am not alone, I have fantastic people who are always there for me, they can't really help guide me though. Everything must be my decision. It is hard. Hard isn't even the word right now.

Sometimes, I wish that I were little all over again. I wish my mom could come in and tell me the right thing to do. She could tell me how everything could be fixed, and she could kiss away all the tears.

I envy my girls in that. Everyday, as their mom, I work to make sure they don't see or feel my anxieties and emotional quagmire. They don't know most of the story. They get to keep on trucking, and be happy; be children. That is their job though. I had my turn at that and now I do my job as it is, being the mom and figuring everything out.

I guess I'll just keep on trying to figure things out, day by day, turn by turn, until hopefully I end up somewhere I want to be again.
Besides, even if they did make a GPS for life situations, it would be my luck the one I pick up wouldn't work. It would probably lead me down the path just right for a lama Herder in Tibet. I would prefer a freeway in San Diego, thanks.

Old Days / New Days

Sometimes, when you have heart ache and heart break in spades, it seems like nothing will make you feel better. Sometimes it feels like there is no hope of ever healing.

Then suddenly, you realize one day that you feel better.

Over the last year, I have had more than my share of heart break. I have had more than any one's share of heart break, but so be it. I have been devastated and down lower than low some days. My heart has been splintered into a thousand pieces.
Then, suddenly today, I felt a tiny fissure heal. It was simple. It was fast, and it was wonderful.

The craziest thing is that it wasn't anything big or new that made me feel better. In fact, it was really something old.

On top of everything going on in my life, my car has had issues. I picked it up, only slightly better than when I left it, from the local dealership's service division this afternoon. Since the slightly better was that I now have break lights, it was actually quite thrilling. Anytime I get my car back after having it be in the show for a while, or being forced to drive the other vehicle, or what not, I feel free all over again. Just like when you get your first car and know you can go where ever you want. I felt that emotional high again.

The radio stations in this area lack much to be desired. So, I grabbed my CD case from the trunk, and instantly found the old familiar pink CD of one of my favorite bands.
I popped it in, turned it up, and flew down the road. I was free. I had no children with me. I could sing the inappropriate lyrics as loud as I wanted. Suddenly, I was transported back to my glory days, riding down the road in a fast little black car, with Nirvana blaring, just jamming all alone. It was good. It was familiar. It was comfort and reassurance that I was still me, no matter how broken. And all that, just that, made me feel better. Much better.

I know that I have been beaten down, but I won't be kept down. I will go out and pull myself up by my knee high boot straps again, and I will be better. I will be ok. And along the way to better, I'll pull out any of the CDs by my favorite band, roll the windows down as soon as it is warm enough, and find that comfortable me feeling again.

My Hopes for the New Year

Today ends one year, and starts a new one. I fully realize that it will be the same week, and just another day in may respects, but I am hoping that tomorrow, and this new year, will bring a lot with it.

This year has by far been one of the worst, if not the worst, years of my life. This year has been full of more heartache than I would ever care to retell, or even remember.

My hopes for the next year are both simple and huge. I hope for a better, happier year for everyone I care about, including myself.

If I don't get a better year next year, I am asking for a refund, for real.

Walking Through The Fire

If someone came to you tomorrow, and told you that they found something very important to you that had been lost, but that if you really wanted it back, you had to walk through fire to get it, would you?

If they told you that the flames would lap at your skin, scorching, burning, leaving scars that will always be there, would you, could you try?

If they told you that you would feel each flame, and the pain, though it would physically fade in time, the memory of it would stay with you always, would you turn and walk away?

What if they also mentioned that though you may start walking through the fire, the pain may well end up too much for you, and you may end up jumping out of the fire with out what you had lost? Would you still even attempt it?

How important would this have to be for you to stay and walk through the fire to find what you have lost?

I may have just stepped into my fire, and I have a long path yet to take, but I have faith, and hope, that I can make it through. That is all you can have. Faith and hope, along with endurance, have to get you through.

In time, when my scars have faded, I hope to tell you that faith and hope are enough.

May I Borrow Your Copy?

I'm really not sure what happened, but somewhere along the line, I seem to have lost my answer key to my life's question book. Not sure how that happened, but I really need it back, if anyone finds it.

It seems lately that there are so many questions that I just don't have answers for. Hard questions. In fact, I don't even think I requested the study guide, let alone answer key, for some of the things that have come up of late, because I never thought I would need them.

In hindsight, I might have been able to pass the tests I am going through, or find the answers, had I only known that these subjects would come up. Instead, with no forwarning, I find myself in the midst of the hardest midterm of my life, about my life, with nothing but my own mind, wit, and what little wisdom that I have, to try to get me through. I'm not sure that any of that will be enough. I think I might be in so far over my own head, that I just don't know if I can pull this one out. My friends have tried to help the best they can and I appreciate it. I do. I love them for it, in fact. They are there, cheering me on, hoping that I find the right answers on my own, because the truth is no one but me can find the answers this time.

In truth, these questions really aren't a pass or fail kind of thing. It would be more like one of those books I remember reading a lot in middle school where you came to a point that there was a question about the action, and you got to choose how a character responded. Your choices led you down a different path with in the story, and each choice resulted in makeing a different outcome. I used to love those books, and would read them over and over again, each time choosing a different responce, just to see all the possible outcomes.
The problem with life is that I only get to make the choice once. I can't go back and re-do it so that it ends up with a different outcome, if I don't like what I get. So, I have to think very carefully, and really choose well.

It isn't easy. I'm not sure that anything is life is, but I can assure you that some choices are much harder than others.
Right now, I'm going to think carefully, and try my best to choose wisely. I realize that I have the power to change this story, and I intend to choose as carefully, and wisely as possible, because I really want a good ending.