Seeking Answers and Meaning

Newtown.  I've been pretty quiet on the subject.  I made a brief comment on the first Facebook post I saw about it, "liked" a couple of messages of condolence, shared a blog that I connected with when I read it.  I have had a few brief conversations on the topic with family and friends.  For the most part I have avoided the topic; however, it has been in my thoughts almost constantly.

I have kept up with the information and misinformation through social media.  There is such pressure to stay on top of a news story that any tidbit gets sent out to the world before the truth can be confirmed.  As a society we feel the need to know the answers.  How does a tragedy like this happen?  Why?  How do we stop it from happening?

I have the same questions.  How does someone look at the terror in the face of a small child, and still pull the trigger?  The very thought sickens me and brings tears to my eyes every time.  What makes a person walk into a school (or a mall, or a movie theatre) and shoot anything that moves, and then turn the gun on himself?  What is the thought process?  I have been through dark times, but this?  No, this I don't understand

There have been so many outcries from almost every stance.  It almost feels like I'm staring at a bad multiple choice test.  Is it
a) We need greater gun control.
b) Only good people with guns can stop bad people with guns.
c) Society places too much focus on violence.
d) We don't allow God in our schools.
e) This is not a moral problem, it's a public health issue, a mental health issue.
f) All of the above.
g) None of the above.

I know that the hearts of the people behind each line of thought are in the right place.  They all want the same thing.  They want the violence to stop.  It is perhaps ironic that this drive for peace brings such discord.  Such animosity.  I read their thoughts and proposals.  I agree with them.  And I disagree with them.

A mother writes about living with a son with mental health issues, and the fear she lives with not knowing when her normally gentle child will turn and attack those he loves, those who love him.  I have seen the demons in myself and in my children.  I know how quickly they can rise up.  But they never reach this proportion.  How does one deal with that?  I can't tell you.

Tributes to the victims are shared.  We see little Ana singing "Come Thou Almighty King" as her brother accompanies her on the piano.  We read about Victoria Soto who saved her students by hiding them in closets, but lost her own life.  Yes, let's get to know these people.  Let's honour them.  They were beautiful.

I believe we are right to place our focus here.  I think there is a time and place to delve into the cause of this tragedy, to seek answers to the "why," if there are any to be found.  If we can do anything to avert this kind of tragedy from happening again, we must do it.  But for now, take time to mourn.  And take time to hold on.

Hold on to those you love.  Hug them.  Not quickly, but in a true embrace.  Say "I love you," not just with your words, but with your actions.  Care for those around you, even those you do not know.  Even those you disagree with.  Make the world a better place today.

I'll conclude with the words of my friend Aaron Bull, who said it better than I can:

"The Newtown massacre reminds me of something. That is, as my parents taught me, a primary goal should always be to return or leave things better than I received them. As such, while thinking about the Newtown massacre (a lot and quite often times with tears in my eyes) I'm reminded once again of that primary goal. Life is not about politics, it's not about gun control, it's not about religion, it's not about what place I have in life or a myriad of other things. It's about, again, leaving things better than I received them. On that note, I feel I (probably we) have lost focus on that primary goal; how can I leave this place, this planet, better than I received it? How can I make sure that my daughter, my (hopefully) grandkids, their kids, etc have a better world than when I was here?! I don't know the answer to that question. I'm still thinking and doing what I can, but I know I still have a lot to learn and do! I'm willing to take that next step. Are you?"

Hello, Darkness

"Hello Darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again." - Simon & Garfunkel, The Sound of Silence

Funny how quickly they can return, those demons.  A virtually sleepless night.  An unresolved disagreement with my husband who, for whatever reason, has yet to tell me he loves me today.  Kids arguing.  The stress of facing the day ahead.

24 hours ago, life was good.  I was tired, but life was good.  That was my mindset.  Today the demons have returned.  "Is life really worth it?  Wouldn't it be easier if you just weren't around?"  I can hear them in my mind, voices ranging from whispers to raging roars.  I know that, at least for now, I am helpless to silence them.  The best I can do is ignore them, hoping they will soon tire and leave me at peace once again.

It's strange.  As much as I despise the voices, there's a twisted comfort in them.  The battle is a familiar one, it is something I know.  Like the villain who brings meaning to the superhero.  But I'm no superhero.  Just a person looking to survive another day.

And I will.

Not Their Lucky Day

Sometimes it doesn't matter how prepared you are.  Sometimes the ball just doesn't bounce your way.

Today Caleb's football team played in the semi-finals.  They were up against the Nomads, undoubtedly the best team in the league.  They hadn't lost a game all season, and most wins were by 30 points or more.  Only a couple of teams had managed to score against this team.  They're big.  No, not big.  Huge.  I don't know what they feed their kids in the North End, but they grow 'em big.

Yes, he's as big as he looks.

Our coaches had done their homework.  They watched game tape, analyzed plays, figured out the tendencies and tells.  By the way, these are volunteer coaches.  They do this just for the love of the game, and give their players their all, expecting the same back.

The players had watched game tape.  They learned new plays designed to take advantage of the Nomads' defensive weaknesses.  The defence learned the Nomads' plays, putting their "tells" to memory so they would be able to counter their strong offence.  They knew who to watch, and how to stop them.

There's no doubt.  Our team did what they could.  They went into the game as underdogs, but knowing that they had the capability to come out on top.

One of our star players

The first quarter was scoreless.  The defences were coming up strong.  Then, the Nomads scored.  We countered by running the ball back to the 1-yd line.  That's when lady luck snubbed her nose in our faces.  The ball was fumbled.  Some of our guys thought we had crossed the line before the fumble, but we won't know that until we see game tape, and even then, it might not show it.  Regardless, the refs said nope.  And the Nomads did what they do best - give the ball to #15 and let him run the field.  14-0.

That's my boy - #72

We came back with a TD, and the score was 14-6 for a long time, but in the last few minutes the Nomads manages to get two more touchdowns, both by #15.  (This kid is big.  And fast.  If you don't stop him in the back field, you're not going to catch him.  I'm sure that over the next few years, other kids will catch up to him in height and speed, but right now, he's a dominating player.)

Almost stripped the ball here.

So we lost.  28-6.  The game was not nearly as lopsided as the score.  I dare say we gave them more of a run for their money than any other team has this year.  I even think they might have been a little scared.  But they played their game and we played ours, and today, theirs won.

I have to say that I was impressed with both sides.  The Nomads are known to have tough teams, and tough often means dirty.  These guys weren't.  Were they completely clean?  I doubt it.  But there were no glaring dirty hits (other than one from one of ours guys who let his frustration get the better of him on the last TD), no real cheap talk.  Their fans were loud.  So were ours.  But all was good-natured.  Just out there cheering for our teams.

A nice run.

Beautiful catch by Hassar.

It was a good game.  In my opinion, it should have been the final.  It left everyone on the sidelines proud of the hard work their kids put in.  It left one team cheering as they walked off the field, and the other in tears as they realized their season had come to an end.  One team goes on to the championship game, one team goes home.  That's just how it goes.

Don't Judge Me By Who I Follow

I joined Twitter a few weeks back for one reason and one reason only - my teenager has an account and spends WAY too much time on it.  I decided that the responsible thing to do would be to get my own account and follow her.

I really don't like Twitter that much.  There's little to no interaction.  No privacy settings.  Just random tweets that often have more hashtags and mentions than real content, which make them really irritating to read, in my humble opinion.

At any rate, if you go to my account and see who I follow, you will see an inordinate number of people usually relegated to teens and preteens.  Cody Simpson, Alli Simpson, One Direction, each individual member of 1D, Justin Bieber, Justin Bieber's manager (or something)...  The list goes on.  "Why?" you may ask.  The answer is really quite simple.  I don't sign out of my account, and when Charisma goes on my computer, she gets her kicks out of following people who interest her.  I'd say she is responsible for clicking on a good third of the people I follow.

Now, I know what you're thinking - why not just unfollow them?  It's a simple click, and then I wouldn't have to read all of Justin Bieber's tweets, and I wouldn't know that Harry Styles ate a sandwich until Charisma told me.  It's not like they would notice that their numbers went down by one. I wouldn't be hurting anyone's feelings.

You see, it's like this.  Now I can see what interests my teen, which really was the reason I signed up in the first place.  I can find out for myself what the public life of the people she admires is like.  And when she asks, "So you know what the boys did today?" I can tell her.  And I sometimes know before she finds out, which kind of ticks her off and makes me smile just a little.

And yes, sometimes I respond to these tweets that I read.  I mean, once in awhile, they're actually quite interesting.

So don't judge me by who I follow.  I'm not trying to be young again.  I'm not fangirling.  I'm just trying to be a part of my daughter's life.  And that, my friends, is worth it.

Not Single Parenting

Darryl's not home.  He left early this morning and won't return until Wednesday evening.  Work trip.  Lots of wives out there know what those are like - the men travel, they stay at home and do the house things.  (Not saying it doesn't go the other way, too.  This is just more common.)  One of my biggest pet peeves is when I hear these women (or men) comment that they are "single parenting this week."  No, no you're not.

Yes, life here is harder when Darryl is gone.  Suddenly I'm responsible for supper clean-up, baby baths, and all the other things he does when he's home.  I am very blessed to have an incredibly helpful husband, and I miss that when he's gone.  I also don't have his arms wrapped around me, don't get to kiss him goodnight, can't just talk the way we do when he's home.  I miss all these things, and more.

But it doesn't come close to single parenting.

I don't have to suddenly come up with the money to pay the bills and put food on the table.  Heck, I still HAVE a mortgage.  I'm not paying someone else's because I don't qualify for one.  I can still text him during the day, talk to him on the phone, Skype him before bed.  I know that even though he's not here, he's still supporting me.  And I know that this time of being alone with the house and the kids will come to an end in a few days.

I won't always be the one putting all the kids to bed.

I won't always have to do all the housework, or at least whatever I can get done.

I won't always have to be the only one in charge of discipline.

I won't always go to bed alone.

It's just a few days.

So, ladies (and men), next time your spouse is out of town and you're tempted to tell everyone how you have to "single parent," please don't insult the true single parents out there by trying to equate the next few days (or even weeks) to what they do every day.  Because it may be tougher, but it doesn't even come close.

One Year Down...

It's our first anniversary today.  One year ago we walked down the aisle in the room where we first met and vowed to spend the rest of our lives side by side.  It was a lovely day, full of joy, laughter and promise.  I can't think of many better days in my life.  No, I'll correct that.  I can't think of any better days. Some that equalled it in greatness, but none that can truly match it.

It's been a good year.  There have been challenges, to be sure.  Blending families is as difficult as they say.  There have been some tense moments, days even.  There have been days of annoyance, moments of anger, times of deep hurt.  But we have always moved through them and on from them, and I think I can honestly say that we have always done so while maintaining mutual respect.

There have been far more good days.  Days of celebration.  Days of showing the love that we have for each other.  Yes, good days.

And today, even more than a year ago, I truly love the man I stand beside.  He is a good man.  He is patient and kind.  He treats me well.  He loves me.  He loves our children - his, mine and ours.  Whenever I look at him, whether through my eyes or in my mind, I know that I have found the man of my dreams.  He is not perfect, but he is perfect for me.  He is all I need in a husband, and so much more.  He is my love.

As I look forward to the many years I hope we will have together, I have many dreams for us.  Some we will fulfill, I'm sure.  Others will remain as dreams.  We will have many adventures, though they may not be the ones we had planned.  What is important is that we stay as a team, standing strong side by side, ready to face whatever life may throw our way.  And at the end of the day, that we always choose to say, "I love you."

I love you, Darryl.  I loved you then, I love you now, I always will.

Happy anniversary, my love.

6 Reasons I Love Being a Mom

Mother's Day is coming to a close.  It has been a good day.  I came home with my hubby after spending a weekend celebrating our first anniversary (which is tomorrow) to a bunch of kids excited to see me and give me their tokens of love.  I always look forward to seeing what they have come up with.  It's a good feeling to know I am loved by the ones who are so important to me.  So let me tell you a bit about the six reasons I love being a mom.

1) Charisma.  She is, and always will be, my firstborn.  Charisma is the classic Type A personality, striving for perfection in everything that she does.  She is passionate, goofy and driven.  And an amazing source for information about Cody Simpson and One Direction.  Charisma challenges me to become a better person.  She also cares about people and will stand by and encourage anyone who is going through a rough time.

2) Hailey.  Hailey is my step-daughter and I'm still getting to know her.  Don't let the picture fool you though - she loves to laugh.  She has a sort of fun innocence that makes me smile.  She is creative and enjoys making things for her friends.  It has been neat seeing her come into her own in this family, and in life.

3) Caleb.  Caleb has a true soft spot for others.  He has always been sensitive to those around him, even though I think he sometimes tries to hide it.  It bothers him when others are upset, when he sees an injustice.  He is not afraid to speak up for others.  He also still gives me hugs, and I hope he always will.

4) Daniele.  Truly inquisitive, Daniele thirsts after all kinds of knowledge.  She simply loves to learn.  She is always willing to give you another chance, allowing herself to be vulnerable in the process.  She has a dynamic personality that draws people in.  An open, loving person who lets that shine through.

5) Justin.  My little monkey.  He makes me laugh with the things that he comes up with.  He loves books and cuddle time.  His never-ending energy astounds me.  Justin is always willing to help with any task, from baking to diaper changing.  And he definitely loves both his families.

6) Tessera.  My newest bundle of joy.  All she has to do is smile and my heart melts.  I cannot wait to see who she will become.

There they are.  Six amazing kids.  Six amazing reasons to love being a mom.  And I sure do love it.

Welcome to the World, Tessera

Tessera, you are now a week old.  Almost exactly.  I meant to write this much sooner, but somehow life is very busy with a newborn.

Moments after birth

You came into this world with pretty good timing.  I was able to finish my teaching term without finding a sub for the last day(s), but you didn't make us wait too much longer.

Waiting.  Nine months of waiting.  Then realizing that today will be the day we meet you.  And waiting.  There was a houseful here, waiting for your arrival.  All your siblings - Charisma, Hailey, Caleb, Daniele, and Justin.  All four grandparents.  Auntie Elli and Auntie Rina.  Then knowing the time was imminent.  Two midwives and a midwifery student.  Yes, a houseful.

And then you arrived.  Waiting for you to cry.  Realizing we hadn't thought to check if you were a boy or a girl.  Getting to be the first person to call you by name.  "Hi, Tessera." 

Tessera: "a small piece (as of marble, glass, or tile) used in mosaic work."  Your dad and I first heard the word at ICTN training camp last year.  Your dad thought it would make a beautiful name, and the symbolism was appropriate.  

We chose your name shortly after confirming that I was pregnant.  Tessera Beverley Damaris.  Tessera, the name bestowed upon you by your father.  Beverley after Grandma Nanka.  Damaris was my contribution.  When I was young I read a book called A Woman Named Damaris by Janette Oke.  It was about a girl who, among other things, is searching for the meaning behind her name.  All she knows is that her name comes from the Bible (which she has never read), and that for some reason it is special.  She is given a Bible and reads to find her name.  The story and the name always stuck with me, and I always wanted the chance to include Damaris in my daughter's name.  I waited for the opportunity, and thought that it would never come.  But it did.

Tessera Beverley Damaris, you have arrived in this world.  You are a beautiful piece in the mosaic of our family, of the world.  But the waiting has not ended.  We now wait to see who you will become.  What will you like?  Who will you be?  Will we be the guides that you need in life?  Will you be treated as the jewel you are?  "You is smart.  You is kind.  You is important."

The waiting never ends.  You will learn this.  So learn patience too, my darling.  Live your life well.  We will make many mistakes as we raise you, but know this.  You are loved.  By many.  If you only know one thing, know that.  We love you.

Welcome to the world, Tessera.

She's Powered by God

Imagine a 1.5 km swim, followed by a 31 km mountain bike ride, and then an 8.2 km trail run.  Now imagine that this takes place in Guam, where the bike ride has a total of 2400 feet of climbing, and the run is through the jungle.  The fastest racer completes this race on this day in 2:29:42, and the fastest woman in 2:46:11.  Now imagine that you are competing in this race with only one glute muscle and minus one sciatic nerve.

Jamie on her bike - XTerra Guam 2012

Jamie Whitmore won this race in 2006, and this year she came back to challenge it again, this time as a disabled athlete.  She finished the race in 4:52:09, coming in 86th out of 143 athletes.  Oh, and the other 142 were able-bodied.

Jamie blows me away all the time.  I met her in January of 2007 at a training camp in Arizona.  Her dynamic personality made it impossible to do anything but admire her.  I chatted with her briefly at the end of camp that year, and completely admired who she was.  The next year, I saw her again, and the thing that amazed me was that she actually remembered me.  Shortly after that training camp, she was diagnosed with cancer.

Like every other challenge that comes Jamie's way, she went after this one with a vengeance.  Even when it seemed like the cancer was kicking her butt, she kept fighting.  I won't share the whole story, but if you want, you can read about it here.

Now Jamie has come back to the sport that she loves - XTerra triathlon.  She has not only beaten cancer (we all hope for good!) but she has fought against all odds to go back to biking and "running."  Oh, and did I mention that she and her husband have 2-yr old twin boys?  And he was out there racing, too - placed 4th in his age category to boot.

This woman amazes me.  Motivates me.  Reminds me that life is there to live.  Reach out and grab it.  And don't ever quit.

Guam race write up can be read here.

Musings of a Pregnant Woman

Well, it's been awhile.  I often think of things I could write about here, but rarely take the time to actually do it.  Translated: by the time I get to the computer, my brain is so done with thinking throughout the day that all I can muster is reading Facebook and the odd blog or new story.  Writing more than 140 characters feel like an insurmountable challenge.

Of course, a progressing pregnancy has added to the challenge.  A pregnancy that is getting close to the done, of which my body has started reminding me through Braxton Hicks.  Yup.  The end is near.

It has been a good pregnancy.  I have felt good.  I have actually enjoyed it.  There are certain changes that come along with the territory that I have quite appreciated.  Healthier and (slightly) thicker hair.  Clear skin.  (I still deal with acne, and the break from it is fantastic).  Stronger nails.  "Girls" that don't show their age and use like they do when I'm not pregnant.  Even the belly has been fun.  Hey, this is the only time in life when an expanding waist is a great thing!

Of course, there are the cons - training is harder (heck, doing everything is harder), the first trimester nausea, the last trimester digestive frustrations.  I must say that they have been minimal though.

I love that I've been able to stay active.  I was pregnant for the majority of triathlon season and raced all the way through.  I have run three half marathons - at three, four and eight months pregnant.  I may be slow, but I'm still enjoying every run.  At 37 weeks.

It's been good.  Since this is very likely my last pregnancy (I have said that twice before, so who knows), I am trying to cherish every moment.  Part of me doesn't want it to end.  Part of me can't wait.  It will be another change in life.  Another bit of craziness to add to our already insane household.  But it will be good.

No.  It will be great.