Tuesday, December 8, 2009

I BELONG TO A SECRET SOCIETY!!



Due to reasons beyond our control, we have been forced underground.  Our traditions are squirreled away from the public and our beliefs are kept to ourselves for fear of prosecution.  We appear just like everyone else, we work with you, our children go to school with yours, and we stand behind you at the supermarket.  And when we recognize one of our own, we greet each other secretly, we whisper our secret message softly so as not to attract attention…we make sure we are in a safe location away from prying judgmental eyes and we whisper…. 

Merry Christmas!

Yes, it’s true, I admit it…. I am a Christian!  I know! It’s shocking!!  I’m the last person you’d suspect as being a Christian.  I love to swear…and I do it quite well.  When I get going, I can whip up such a stitch of profanity that sailors blush!  I love a good martini!  Gin, Straight up (no ice), two olives!  I haven’t seen the inside of a church in God knows how long, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in Jesus.

I don’t belong to any particular church.  I was born Catholic, but to be honest, the Catholic Church and I have gone our separate ways for a variety of reason including that Sunday Mass is a huge snooze-fest that I get absolutely nothing out of unless of course it’s the Spanish Mass at St. Ambrose because the choir is awesome and the walls vibrate from everyone singing.  (However, if regular Mass works for you…God bless.)

I don’t go to church; I don’t beat the bible and make it the centerpiece of every conversation.  However, I try to live my life according to what Jesus taught those of us in our secret society.  Treat others as you would want to be treated.  Be charitable.  Be compassionate.  Let others simply be…  I try my best, I admit sometimes I screw up, but I keep on trying.  Most people, I like to think, believe that although I can be brash and loud, I’m a nice person.

I don’t think it’s a bad way to live.

But here’s the thing…apparently my beliefs are so offensive that I am asked to say Happy Holidays so I don’t hurt anyone’s feelings.  Why do I have to celebrate in secret?  Why can’t we ALL celebrate ALL our faiths out in the open and just enjoy the diversity?

That seems like a lot more fun.

I’d like to point out a fact.  Christmas is about Christ…that why “Christ” is in the word “Christmas!”  Kind of funny how that works out, huh…. And for the record it has never been, nor should it continue to be Xmas...that's for people too lazy to write out the entire word.

Christmas is about celebrating the birth of a very special child.  It’s about taking a leap of faith.  It’s about celebrating this day with the people you love and wishing them the best.

It’s not about Santa Clause.  It’s not about shopping.  It’s not about racking up 5 months of bills! 

When I see all the commercials and see the people going bananas buying everything in sight….and completely missing the point…it makes my stomach turn.   It is an absolute perversion of the true meaning of Christmas.

Instead of manger scenes, we have a fat guy in a red suit and fictitious reindeer.  Instead of angels, we have elves.  Instead of "Little Drummer Boy" we have "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause," easily one of the irritating songs ever!  And before anyone stands up to defend “Santa” let me remind you what a jerk he was to Rudolph!  He used him for his red nose for one Christmas and then we never hear of him again…I find him a poor representative for Christmas based on his inferior moral fiber.

So while you are walking around your winter wonderland this holiday season, taking in the sanitized, unreligious, secular holiday decorations…while you are thinking, “Wow…how utterly fair and inoffensive to everyone” I would like to point out one thing.

ITS OFFENSIVE TO ME!

Merry Christmas!

Monday, November 2, 2009

It's Getting Swiney Up In Here....

My daughter has the flu....I am going to assume it is H1N1.  After all, my ex-mother-in-law has told me repeatedly, over and over again, on several occasions, time and time again, that the seasonal flu has not hit yet.  So if a child has flu symptoms, it's probably H1N1.

I am so bothered by this for so many different reasons.

I took her to the doctor for her yearly physical on Thursday.  She got a clean bill of health.  The doctor said she was in tip top shape.  When I called I said I wanted her to get the flu shot...this would be for the regular seasonal flu, not the new and improved flu, version 2.0, better known as the swine flu. I was told it would not be a problem.  The woman on the other end of the phone did not ask me if my daughter had asthma.  All they had left was the nasal spray.  If you have asthma, you cannot take the spray, you need the shot.  And MGH is out of shots.

Fine, whatever, we'll just wash our hands a lot and keep calling to see when another shipment will come in.

However, she comes home and she says her throat is scratchy...next comes the cough...she wakes up the next morning with a headache...she is sooo tired...she has the flu.

The thing that I hate about this flu is that it screws with your head.  First the kid is sick...then they feel better...then they are sick again...then the fever is gone...then the next morning its back with a vengence...its gone...then its back. 

Another thing that I hate is that I am doing this alone.  The ex-husband calls and checks in for a whopping 5 minutes, but that's it.  I have to deal with getting her to take her medicine, to making sure she is taking in liquids, taking her temp and deciding whether or not I can go to work today or not.

Didn't go to work today, her fever was very low, but I figured better safe than sorry.  Her fever shot up again to 103.3 half an hour ago.  And I have to go to work tomorrow.  Does the ex-husband have to face these issues?  Nooooo...he's off "rebuilding" his life with the new girlfriend.  Keep in mind he has been "rebuilding" for the better part of 6 years!

I cannot believe the fever is back!!!  ARGH!!

Yet another thing that enrages me is all the information on the internet.  I typed in H1N1 treatment...all these websites pop up, they claim to have info on treating H1N1...they list the vaccine as a treatment! 

Where do you get this magic vaccine?!

In the state of Massachusetts, the first batch of this vaccine went to prison inmates.  Normally, I am a left wing, bleeding heart liberal.  Not this time, I had never sounded so Republican in my life that when the following thoughts crossed my mind, I wondered if I had been possessed by the ghost of a GOP member!

There is a vaccine out there that could have prevented my kid from getting this flu that is quite frankly kicking my ass and its going to prison inmates first?!?  Why are their lives more important than my daughter's life?  My kid never killed anyone!  She never hurt anyone!  But we're giving the vaccine to Johnny Rapist first?  Does this seem wrong to anyone else?

Ugh!  I am sooo frustrated!  And I am so tired!  And I have to go to work! And the fever is not going away!  And just when I thought she was getting better, she gets worse!  And people who do not raise my child or have no background in medicine or patient care are under the impression that I am dying to hear their opinion on what I should do!

I can't wait for flu season to be over...or for everyone with an opinion on what I should do to find a new target.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

I CONTROL THE CHOCOLATE MILK!

Many years ago, I was cradling my little pink baby.  As I studied and took in her absolute perfection, I thought to myself, "Wow...I'm going to screw her up."

I came to that conclusion after contemplating my need to be the best mommy I could be.  And how my mom tried to be the best mom she could be.  And no matter how hard I try or what I do, she will eventually end up on a therapists couch, blaming me for something. 

My mom was always smothering me...or My mom didn't care about me....or My mom tried to be my best friend when what I needed was a mother...or My mom was to neat...or messy...or strict...or lax.  No matter what I do...she's screwed.

So I figured I should have fun with it.  And then my pink baby spit up on me.

GAME ON!

Just like last summer, my daughter is spending her days at summer camp.  Every morning we go to the day camp location and I walk her to a big tent...it kind of looks like a banquet tent and I sign her in.  And then I walk her down a gravel path to a smaller tent.  This second tent serves as a home room.

So I sign her in like I do every day.  And we start to walk towards the gravel path and she stops.  She turns to me and says, "Mommy, you don't have to walk me, I can go by myself."

I swear that I could hear my heart crack and split in two.  My God, I knew this day would come...she is starting to pull away from me.

"Are you sure, Mommy can walk you the rest of the way...it's ok."

"No..I can go by myself."

I tried so hard to hide the heartbreak and desperation in my voice, "Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'm good."

She's good?!?  What the hell is that?!

I lean down to give her a hug and kiss like a do every morning...and she pulls away!!

"MOM!" she says under her voice like I just did something gross like pick my butt in front of her friends.

And off she went. 

And then I heard the voice in my head..."What the hell!!  She can't even give you a hug and kiss?!  Get a hold of this situation NOW!! YOU CONTROL THE CHOCOLATE MILK IN THIS RELATIONSHIP!! Get a hold of this situation and handle it!!"

I didn't know what to do, she was walking away!

She was about 30...40 feet away and I took a deep breath and yelled out:

"TREENIE PANINI!!"

She stopped dead in her tracks...dropped and shook her head.

"HAVE A GOOD DAY SWEET HEART!!"

"MOMMY LOVES YOU!!"

"MAKE SMART CHOICES!!!"

She turned to me and mouthed very clearly "I hate you!" to which I replied:

"I LOVE YOU TOO!!"

I think I made my point.

Later that evening we had a chat about mommy's little display of affection.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!?"

"I DID THAT BECAUSE YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT I CONTROL THE CHOCOLATE MILK!!!"

"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!!"

"IT MEANS I AM THE MOMMY AND YOU ARE THE CHILD AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY!!"

After some more discussion, I made an offer to end the little stalemate we found ourselves in.  Every morning I get my hug and kiss and she can then walk to her tent alone.  At first she didn't think it was a good deal.  But then I said I could always show up at camp and show her friends her naked baby pictures.  She soon saw my point of view and we settled on my offer.

So every morning I get my hug and kiss...she walks the path alone...and I control the chocolate milk.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

A Gas Grill A BBQ Does Not Make!


This is an issue that really bothers me and I feel that I can no longer hold it in...my friends, I must speak!

COOKING ON A GAS GRILL DOES NOT COUNT AS A BBQ!! 
AAAAARRRGGGGHHHH!!

Oh my God, it felt good to get that off my chest!

Yesterday I went to a BBQ at my friend's house.  It was good to get out of the house and go have grown up time without the offspring.  Don't get me wrong, I love my child but she can be a pain in the ass!

"I'm bored...when are we leaving...how much longer are we going to stay...I'm bored...the battery in my DS died...did I mention I'm bored?"

But luckily the offspring was at a slumber party and mom got to hang out with friends in the "over 30" group!

My friend's put out quite the spread! And best of all, it was grilled on a Webber with charcoal briquettes! 

I remember watching my dad load up our Webber with the charcoal...he used to let me douse the briquettes with lighter fluid.  The biggest thrill I got was when he let me light them myself for the first time...and it only took two months for my eyebrows to grow back!  Kidding! But it was something my dad and I got to do together.

I remember he and the other dad's would talk about the right way to stack the briquette's...should they be laid out flat or should you stack them in a pyramid.  I believe it should be in a pyramid.

And just like yesterday's bbq...the food would taste sooo good!  There is just something about the way food tastes when it is off a charcoal grill.  You don't get the same taste from a gas grill.

I don't like gas grills!  They are boushy! 

That's right! I said it! 

They're boushy!!

Not everyone can afford a big ol' propane gas grill and pay extra for an engineer to put the stupid thing together so that it doesn't blow up in your face and burn down your house.  However, you can buy a little hibachi for a couple of bucks to grill up some dogs and burgers.

And a gas grill is nothing more than a glorified stove top!  You spent $300 on something that could do the job of a stove top and a special pan...and you look foolish as you impress everyone by turning the knob on your big ol grill..a knob that looks a lot like the ones on the stove.

And the food tastes like it would if it came off the stove.  Not that that's a bad thing...but its just not special.  If you're going to go through the effort of grilling the payoff should be in the way the food tastes.

A gas grill is not gilling...it's just cooking...outside!

I was at the supermarket today saw that one of these babies was for sale:


A Kingsford Barrel Grill...isn't it beautiful?  And if I ever have a house (not a condo) with a yard...I'm getting one of these and I'm having a big ol' Barbecue!!!

Thursday, March 26, 2009

A Tribute to Ghetto Pizza


Every generation hopes that the one after them has it easier than they did.  Everyone hopes that their own children will do better than they did.

And I look at my daughter, she has it pretty good.

She has a dog.  I never had a dog.  She goes to a lovely little school in suburbia.  Not me.  I lived in the city. My daughter gets bored, she has over 100 channels to choose from, plus a slew of "On Demand" movies and programs.  I had to use my imagination.

But there are things that I did and experienced that my daughter has not, and I think its kind of sad.  My daughter has never known the joys of watching the big kids pop a fire hydrant and then jumping around in the water in what can only be described as unbridled joy.

My daughter has never hopped a fence.  She's never needed to.

My daughter has never played in the middle of the street.  I remember playing kick ball in the street.  Not the sidewalk, but the street.  And it was always someone's job to yell "Car!"  And we would get out of the way...and when they passed by...it was back out onto the street.  I could never let my kid play out in the street now!
 
I remember my sister in law was having a hard time with my niece one day.  Much like now, the economy was really bad and no one had any money.  And it was worse for my brother and his wife.  They were recent immigrants with a young child.  (We have different moms and he was raised in El Salvador.)

On that particular day in the 80's...my niece was driving her poor mom up the wall by repeatedly asking for pizza.  She wanted pizza so bad.  But her mom hadn't gotten paid yet and had NO MONEY.  And its humiliating to not have any money when your kid wants something.  I'll be the first to admit that I've been there.  After all, I was driving a big ol' Jeep not long ago when gas was over $4 a gallon!

At one point I swear this woman was near tears as my niece fired off a steady stream of "Can we get pizza?"

I took my niece into the kitchen.  And I made her a snack that I had invented 10 years earlier when I was her age.  My niece and I are 10 years apart in age.  While my neice was a small child during the recession in the 80s.  I was a small child in the recession in the 70s. 

So I decided to share with her a wonderful snack I invented as a child when my mom did not have money for pizza.  I took a piece of Wonderbread.  I slathered a layer of ketchup on it.  I sprinkled the ketchup with dried oregano, basil and some pepper.  Then I blanketed it with a layer of American cheese.  It may have been government cheese, but I can't remember. 

And into the toaster it when,  and when it came out my greedy crumb snatcher little niece scarfed the whole thing down!  And the begging for pizza was over.  She had come to love my creation...Ghetto Pizza.

My daughter on the other had has not known the joys of ghetto pizza.  She's never really had to experience the need for ghetto pizza.  I've been lucky enough to have a few bucks lying around to get a small pizza from time to time.  And I wonder if I'm doing my daughter a disservice by giving her all that I didn't have.  At the risk of sounding cocky...will she be as resilient as I am?  Will she know humility?  Will she know to make the best of it when you don't have a lot?  That's what I learned when I ate ghetto pizza.

I wonder if she'd even eat it?  I wonder if she'd look down her nose at it?  I think I'm going to see if we have any white bread and ketchup!

Mmmmmm....toasty!



Thursday, March 5, 2009

My Bail is $695.50!!!


This is HILARIOUS! Just read the 'offense' and if you've done it, you owe that fine. Keep going until you've read each 'offense' and added up your total fine. Title your blog 'My Bail is $........'you dont have to Confess your answers, just write the amount of your fine

1) Smoked pot -- $10

2) Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk --$50

3) Cheated on your significant other -- $10

4) Been in love with two people or more at the same time -- $50

5) Said you love someone but didn't mean it -- $25

6) Went streaking -- $5

7) Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15

8) Kissed a co-worker-- $ 20

9)Kissed your boss --$50

10) Been arrested -- $5

11) Spent time in jail -- $15

12) Peed in the pool -- $0.50

13) Played spin the bottle -- $5

14) Done something you regret -- $20

15) Slept with your best friend >-- $20

16) Been in love with a stripper -- $20

17) Went skinny dipping -- $5

18) Been slapped-- $5

19) Slapped someone-- $5

20) Beat up someone -- $20

21) Been jumped -- $10

22) Ever had sex at church -- $25

23) Dated someone you met on My Space -- $25

24) Cheated on test -- $50

25) Vandalized something -- $20

26) Slept with someone in your parents' bed -- $100

27) Crossed dressed -- $10

28) Given money to stripper -- $25

29) Flirted with an officer to get out of a ticket-- $30

30) Been in love with a stripper -- $20

31) Kissed some one who's name you didn't know --$10

32) Hit on some one of the same sex while at work-- $15

33) Ever drive drunk -- $20

34) Used toys while having sex -- $30

35) Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -- $20

36) Had sex in a pool -- $20

37) Masturbated -- $10

38) Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend --$20

39) Done oral -- $5

40) Got oral -- $5

41) Done / got oral in a car while it was moving-- $25

42) Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you-- $40

43) Stole something -- $10

44) Slept with someone who has been in jail -- $25

45) Made a dirty home video -- $15

46) Plan on making a dirty home video in the near future --$30

47) Had a threesome -- $50

48) Had sex in a public place-- $20

49) Been in the same room while someone was having sex -- $25

50) Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars --$20

51) Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20

52) Kissed a teacher while you were still a student--$25

53) Lied to your mate -- $5

54) Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25

OK , now tally up your answers, then, copy paste this into your blog.  In the title of your post put your 'My Bail Is... (your total) 

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Best Day Ever!!!


I didn't move any mountains today.  I didn't cure cancer.  I didn't free any nations.  I did very basic things with my daughter and it was great.

First, we took the dog on a nice long walk.  That was cool.

I took my daughter to the local library.  I felt it was time for her to get a library card.  She was so excited and we checked out her first book, "Beezus and Ramona" by Beverly Cleary.  While I was there the librarian asked if I happened to have a library card.  Truth be told, I haven't had one since high school.  I am now the proud owner of a library card.  Since we had time, my daughter and I curled up on one of the library couches and we started reading her book.  It was nice.

Next we met up with some friends.  I am part of a Single Parents group.  We get together from time to time to do stuff with the kids.  Today we bowled.

After bowling the real fun started.  My daughter and I love Air Hockey. And I am an Air Hockey fiend....and quite good.  And I have to say, for an 8 year old...my kid is pretty good too.  I am sooo good at air hockey that in the years my ex-husband and I were together, he only beat me at air hockey once...and that's because I was trashed!  And then he just flat out refused to play air hockey with me.

Well, me and the kid were going back and forth pretty furiously and attracted an audience.  Mostly teenage boys and a few of the parents I was with.  At one point...I got challenged.  I played this kid...and I beat him.  I got challenged again by someone else...beat him too.  And everytime I won, my daughter would look at whatever teen was standing next to her and she would say proudly..."that's my mom!"

"THAT'S YOUR MOM?!?"

I finally did get beat.  But after each game, regardless of whether or not I won, I would shake hands with my opponent.  It was pretty cool.  But it was funny because each of these kids was soooo stunned that someone my age was sooo good at air hockey....because Air Hockey was invented last week.

Then we went to the Food Connection.  Its a huge food court like you would see at a mall, but its all Asian food.  And not the crappy asian food we would get at the mall, but the REAL STUFF!!  And my daughter ate it all up!!  And I topped off my meal with a Thai Iced Tea with mini boba!  Yum!

And then we came home...read some more...and called it a night.

It was a good day!


Friday, February 13, 2009

Its Time!


It was Valentines Day and I was sitting in my hospital bed.  I was never a fan of the holiday and now it was celebrating it in a hospital bed.  Ugh.  I was twiddling my thumbs and looking out the window.  The doctors were supposed to get back to me regarding my weekend furlough.

First one in...the husband carrying a big box of Godiva Chocolates.  So far the day was starting out with chocolate...not a bad start.

Then I was surprised by my friend Christina and her boyfriend Tan.  Tan was a good friend of my husbands from high school and I was so thrilled that he found himself the most wonderful girlfriend in the world.  They dropped by for a surprise visit.  They didn't know if I would like Mussles Fra Diavlo or Chicken Parm...so they brought me both.  I was so happy!

I got a craving that day for a large chocolate frappe.  And I got my wish.  I got my frappe!  So far, my day was going well.  And I completely forgot my doctors were supposed to get back to me about early release.

After my visitors left, I sat in bed watching Oprah.  It was exactly 8 years ago, but I remember the episode.  Oprah was talking to women who were not turned on by sex.  I thought it was kind of funny because sex is what got me into my current predicament.  They were talking about using porn to spice things up in your marriage.

I remember thinking that maybe that chocolate frappe was a mistake because now I had this stomach ache.  But then it went away.  And then it came back.  But then it went away.  And then it was back.....oh shit.

I noticed that stomach ache was getting very painful.  It didn't feel like a contraction..it felt like there were razor blades in my stomach.  I tried not to panic so I hit the call button.  I said I needed my nurse because I was in pain.  The receptionist fired back with "Your nurse is busy with someone else so your'e just gonna have to wait your turn."  The way she said it was really snotty.  I told her I understood that but something was wrong.  She replied "I said you have to wait!!"

"Listen!!  You get me my nurse or someone else's nurse now or I swear to God I am dragging my pregnant ass down to your desk and kicking your ass up and down the 11th floor!!"

"Nurse needed in room 1118...Nurse needed in room 1118!!"

Again I got hooked up to machines.  But this time nothing was coming up showing a contraction.  I could not believe it when a nurse asked me "Are you sure you're having pain?"

The attending OB came to my room and found that I was 2 centimeters dialated...and I had a fever.  That infection I had been warned about finally caught up with me. 

And I was taken to Labor and Delivery and this time it was really going to happen.  I called my husband, he was taking classes at night.  I called my mom...she was on her way... I called my in-laws..they were on their way too...this was not a drill.

While we waited for my husband to get there, my fever spiked.  I walked into the bathroom at one point, but when I shut the door behind me, it felt like I had walked into a meat locker.  I was so cold...and sporting a fever of 103.  My nurse covered me in blankets straight out of the dryer.  And the pain was getting worse.

Finally the anesthesiologist arrived.  I received anesthesia through a spinal injection.  The pain was finally gone, but I couldn't move from my chest down.  Easily the freakest thing I had ever gone through.

The husband finally arrived and into the operating room we went.  The doctors asked me what kind of music I wanted to listen to...I chose the blues.

It was wierd.  I remember lying there with a blue curtain across my chest.  I was curious to see what they were doing.  I even checked the reflections in eyglasses of the surgeons.  They were all wearing non-reflective lenses.

I guess that was a good thing.  The thing about c-sections is that you think they make a cut and lift out the baby.  That is the furthest from the truth.  The fact is that the mother is gutted like a fish.  First, there is the cut across your belly.  Then your intestines are moved aside.  Next your bladder is lifted out of your body and placed next to you on the operating table.  Now, they finally cut into the womb.  And finally, they pluck out the baby.  After, they put you back together again.

When I hear a woman say she wants to have a c-section because its easier, I know she is ill informed.

I was under the impression that everything was going well.  However, doctors have a funny way of speaking and my then-husband pays very good attention.

"So I went golfing last week at that new resort....the baby is stuck.....and I got to break out the new golf clubs....I can't get the baby out....I was in the clubhouse and they have a new chef....she's bleeding alot....I was really impressed with the new menu....we're running out of time....The fish was really fresh....

I turned to my anesthesiologist and asked, "I feel really sleepy, is it ok if I close my eyes for a little bit?"

He responded with a very panicked "What?!"  And then I lost consciousness.

At that same moment the surgeon yelled at a nurse "We need O-Postive."  According to my ex-husband the doctors shifted into over-drive.  I was loosing blood.  The baby was stuck.  Both of us were running out of time.

Although I was unconscious...I remember stuff.  I remember after I closed my eyes I was in a dark place.  It felt like I was wrapped in the most wonderful comforter and tucked inside a peapod just my size.  I had never been so comfortable in my life.  And I thought to myself, "Wow, I could sleep forever!"  I was so at peace and warm.  I remeber that everthing was black..but I could see there was some kind of light.  And I turned to see where that light was coming from....

And then I woke up!  A surgeon announced my sudden consciousness with "She's back!"

Back?  I was only out for 30 seconds...right?  Wrong.  I was unconscious for over 10 minutes while I was bleeding to death.  But the bleeding was finally under control. 

They finally got the baby out. 

For the whole month I was in the hospital I was told to be prepared, when a baby is born a preemie sometimes their lungs are under developed and they can't cry.  They took the baby from my body and carried it to the other side of the room to waiting nurses and specialists.  And I waited.

Then I heard a screetch so hellacious that it split the air in the room in two!

"What the hell was that?!?!?"

A chorus of doctors and nurses shouted "It's your daughter!!!"

I had a little girl.  And she had perfect lungs!  And then she stopped screaming.  Basically, one scream is all she needed.  They wrapped her in a blanket and gave her a pink hat.  Because she needed to go to the NICU, they held her up in front of me before taking her away.  I didn't get a chance to hold her.  But she was just looking around.  She was observing everything.  And then she looked right at me.  She looked me straight in the eyes and it felt like she was looking directly into my soul.  I felt naked.

And I felt ashamed.  She was so magnificent and so incredible.  And I felt absolutely unworthy.  I felt she needed someone better than me.  Someone worthy enough to call themselves her mother.  I took a deep breath and looked her back in the eye and thought to myself..."I may not feel like I'm good enough, but I'm all she's got...so be better!"

Then I felt the strangest thing.  I felt something come alive inside of me.  It wasn't a warm, fluffy, tv mom kind of thing.  It was something ferocious.  What I felt was similar to the sound a cougar makes.  And I instantly knew what it was.  I was now a mother.  From that point forward and for the rest of my life I know that without thinking I would lay down my life to protect my child.  And if I had to, I would be capable of taking someone's life to protect my child.  My child had become my prime directive and I was now a different person.  What came alive inside of me was the most primitive mothering instinct to protect her young.

My husband walked over to see his daughter.  He looked at the doctors cleaning me up.  He said he nearly passed out.  He had never seen so much blood in his life.

I didn't find out that I nearly died until the next day.

My daughter was born on 02/14/2001 at 9:30pm.  She weighed 3lbs, 11oz.  She was a miracle baby because her only problem was that she was small.  She was responsive.  Her lungs were perfect.  But she was tiny.  In fact, she was only in the NICU for 8 hours.  She was too healthy to be there.  I never had to step into that horrible place again. 

She was moved to level 2.  It was the nursery for babies who were not in such dire straights that they needed the NICU, but they still needed a little extra help.

So now you know.  This is how my monkey doodle made her big debut.  Bringing her into this world was no easy task.  And I would easily crawl over glass for my daughter.  Which makes me so angry at women like the octuplet mom or the Gloucester 17.  Brining a child into this world is no easy task.  It is not a game!  And its not for the faint of heart.

When I go to the market with my daughter, sometimes I joke with her and tell her that when she was born she weighed less than the chicken we're having for dinner.  It makes her laugh, but its true. 

And today she is 8 years old.


A Postcard From the Edge.....


A funny thing happens when you are on bed rest for an extended period of time...you slowly lose your mind.  It may sound funny and some of my story is funny...but in then end I know I took a temporary leave of my faculties and its not a place I ever want to go to again.

~~~

On my first day in the hospital, Dr. Greene decided that I should take a test for gestational diabetes.  I explained to him that I had a test done less than two weeks ago and that I had a clean bill of health.  But Dr. Greene insisted and I had to drink a sugary soda like substance.  Now here’s the thing.  When I took the test two weeks earlier, my womb was filled with amniotic fluid and I could feel the baby having a great time on a sugar high.  This time there was no fluid...and the baby was kicking fiercly...and there was no fluid buffering the kicks.  I laid there in pain for two hours waiting for the kicking to stop.  My child was literally kicking my ass from the inside out.  All the nurses could do was hold my hand and tell me they were sorry and assure me that Dr. Greene was the top doctor in world when it came to gestational diabetes.  Turns out that part was true, but that doesn’t excuse him from being a jackass.  When the test came back it showed no signs of gestational diabetes...just like I said.

~~~

I was at Mass General for over 30 days waiting for my baby to make her big debut.  And I had nothing but time on my hands.  Time to spare, loads of time, time to burn...just time...alone.
At first I tried to keep busy.  I made huge lists of what the doctors would tell me.  That way any visitor coming to see me could read it and keep up with what my doctors were saying.  It helped fill my time, and it got old having to repeat the same information over and over again, every day.  And when there was more news, I updated the list.

I had a great view of the Charles River.  It was nice watching the cars dart back and forth on Storrow and Memorial drive.  I’d see people making their way around.  It was January and it was cold.  I found that late in the day when the temperature drops, the Charles River freezes into a solid sheet of ice.  When the sun rises the next morning and the river defrosts, the ice breaks apart in perfect squares.  I thought that was kind of odd and spent a lot of time thinking about it, after all I had nothing better to do.  When I would redo my lists I would doodle squares in the margins of the paper.

~~~

There are certain things you figure out when you are in the hospital for such a long time.  One of the things I will never forget is the ketchup.  Lets say you would like to order a cheese burger and fries for lunch.  When your lunch gets there, you only get one ketchup.  So you have to decide.  Will the ketchup go on the burger?  Or the fries?  Sure you can ask the lunch lady if you can have another ketchup, but one of three things will happen.  One...she’ll forget.  Two...She’ll remember, but she will bring the ketchup after your lunch is cold.  Or three...she’ll remember and bring you the ketchup after your tray has been cleared away.

So just to be sure I always had a spare ketchup I started ordering ketchup with each meal.  And I would tuck it away in my nightstand in the event I would have some ketchup related emergency.

About three weeks into my stay, my then husband brought me some magazines he thought I would like.  “I’m just going to put them in your nightstand.”  Imagine his surprise when he opened my the drawer to see 60 packets each of ketchup, mustard, salt and pepper.  He took some ketchup in his hands and was in complete disbelief, “Soni, why do you have so many...”
He never finished the sentence before I went absolutely ballistic.  “Those are mine!!  You can’t have them!!  They’re for me!!  Put them back!  PUT THEM BACK NOW!!!  THEY’RE MINE!!!!”

My life had gone on without me.  And I was sitting in a hospital room and I had control over NOTHING.  Nothing except the ketchup.  If I saved the ketchup packets, that was something in my control.  I think it was pretty obvious that I was losing my mind.

~~~

One of the saddest things I saw happened on my way to an ultrasound.  An orderly came to take me to my test.  My room was all the way at the end of the hall.  As he wheeled me down the hall I peeked into everyone’s room.  Room after room was exactly the same.  In each room, a single solitary pregnant woman sat in her bed and stared out the window.  And I knew when my test was over and I was taken back to my room, I would assume the same position and look out the window like all those other women and watch my life go on without me.

~~~

It really wasn’t a long jump from ketchup hording to all out delusional.  

I would sit in my room and stare at things.  Stare out the window.  Stare at the TV.  Stare at the floor and count the tiles.  Stare at the wall paper.  It was pretty, very light pink stripes with a swirly border at the ceiling.  I made a joke once that the stripes were like prison bars and the swirly border was like barbed wire.  I would think about how much I wanted to go home and how I couldn’t  because I was sick.  And then it turned into how I wanted to go home but couldn’t because they would say no.  And finally, I wanted to go home, but they wouldn’t let me leave.  And it didn’t help that I was in a locked ward.  You needed to hit a buzzer to get in or out.

Because I am naturally a silly person, I spent my days thinking up escape plots.  I got a lot of amusement out of it.  I think I started after I saw a movie with Clint Eastwood in it and how he and a few others escaped from a prison, it may have been Alcatraz.  I would think about tying the sheets together and repelling down the side of the building.  Or hiding among the linens.

While I was in the hospital, the only time I was allowed to get out of bed was to take a shower or use the toilet.  Those were big field trips for me.  One morning I took a shower and when I opened the closet to get a fresh set of pajamas I noticed a bag.  My mom had brought back my clothes from the night my water broke.  I had clean clothes, socks, panties...everything.  Hmmmmm.....then I checked my coat pockets.  I found my house keys and $5.  That was enough for a train ride to my town and a cab ride home.

I was giddy!  I was finally going to leave.  I climbed into bed and hatched my plan.  I would wait until 5:00pm to change my clothes.  The floor got busy after 5:00 because that’s when visitors would start arriving.  I would get dressed, keep my head down and walk out as someone was walking in.

I remember I was fully dressed and I was putting on my coat when I heard a familiar voice,
“Soni....what are you doing?”

I was busted.  My mother, godmother and god-sister were standing at the door.  

“I got tired of wearing pajamas, so I thought I’d get dressed for a little while”

My god-sister was very gentle.  She told me she understood.  And said “Let’s get back into bed.”  I slinked back into bed, defeated.  It wasn’t long until the whole family knew of my botched escape attempt.  My brother in law said he could imagine the headline in his head “Crazy Woman Escapes MGH to Give Birth on Train.”  My mother left that night with my keys and my $5.  

Traitor.

~~~

It was a weekend and I had a new nurse.  She had gotten the idea in her head that I would benefit from a trip to the NICU, the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  There was a very high chance that my baby would have to spend some time in the NICU and Nurse Ratchet felt I would benefit from visiting the NICU so I would know what to expect.  I told her that I didn’t think it was a good idea.  I didn’t much enjoy visiting the ICU to visit a dying adult, now I have to see dying babies?  I didn’t thing it would be good for me to see sick babies.  She just stood there and smiled and said ok.

During the day she managed to get my husband alone and explained to him that I would benefit from a trip to the NICU.  Knowing that I didn’t want to go, he caved, he took her side.  The two of them ganged up on me and told me how it would be good for me to see the NICU.  Next think I know, I’m in a wheel chair and we’re on our way.

I saw things that no expectant mother should ever see.

I saw babies that were no bigger than the palm of my hand.  I saw babies that were so covered in tubes and wires, that all you could see of them was a foot or maybe a finger.  I saw babies who could only breath with the help of a machine.  I saw that the nurses station had baptismal robes behind the desk in case a baby had to be baptized before it died.  I saw mothers sitting in rocking chairs, staring glassy eyed and stone faced at incubators.

I started to notice that it was really hot in the NICU, I was sweating and I was having trouble breathing.

Another nurse joined us.  Nurse Ratchet says “This is the patient I was telling you about.”  They wheeled me over to an incubator to show me a baby who was born at 26 weeks.  He looked like a potato wrapped in a blanket, he didn’t even look human.  And then he opened his eyes and it was like I was looking at a dead baby who suddenly opened its eyes.

The room started spinning.  I couldn’t even speak, I could only make a bleating noise.  All Nurse Ratchet could say was “Doesn’t he look great?”  At least the other nurse realized I was not doing well and asked if I was ok...I couldn’t answer her.  She turned to my husband and asked “Does she speak English?”

“JUST GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!”

The nurses kept telling me to calm down and that everything would be ok.  

“GET ME OUT OF HER NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL WALK OUT!”

All I got was more cooing that it would be ok.  I stood up out of my wheel chair and ripped the IV out of my arm and walked out leaving a trail of amniotic fluid and blood behind me.

The ward was locked.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR YOU BITCH!!!”

The trip back to my hospital room was filled with apologies.  I laid in my bed looking out the window at my frozen Charles River.  I was so angry with my husband for not taking my side.  I know what I can handle and what I can’t.  He sided with a nurse and not his wife.  I couldn’t even look at him.  I just stared at the river and told him to get the hell out.  

Then I sobbed for two hours.

After I calmed down a bit Nurse Ratchet was back, “I’m sorry, I thought you could handle it.”

“I told you I didn’t want to go, I told you it was a bad idea but you didn’t listen to me.  NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!!”

~~~

The next morning, the attending physician came to see me.  Every week there was a different doctor who did rounds.  He was the first doctor I saw when I entered the hospital a month earlier.  And now he was back on rounds.  I had made it all the way back to the top of the rotation.

“Hi Mrs. McNair.  How are you today?”
“I want to go home.”
“Oh I understand, for women on bed rest it can be very frustrating to spend so much time in the hospi....”
“No, you’re not listening to me.  I’m not a prisoner here.  I know my rights.  I’m going home today.  Please bring me my discharge papers.  I’m signing myself out and I’m going home.”

I had never seen a doctor look so panicked in my life.

“Please.  Just give me 10 minutes, just 10 minutes!”

“FIVE!”

And that man ran down the hall like a bat out of hell.  And I was crazy enough to time him.  It was 4 minutes and 26 seconds.  He was back with the head of nursing and the head of Obstetric Psychiatry.  Apparently there is a whole school of psychiatry dedicated soley to pregnant women.

For the next 45 minutes I basically heard pleading, “What can we do to make you stay?”  “How about a weekend pass”  “How about time with a therapist?”  They tried everything to make me stay.  And finally I gave in, “I will stay if I can go home on weekends otherwise I am outta here!”  They promised that they would do everything they can to plead my case to the rest of obstetrics.  After all, I was there for over a month.  I had gone through 4 roommates.  I was there longer than any other patient currently on the floor.  And it was perfectly obvious that I was losing my grip on reality.

The date was February 13, 2001.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

And It Got Worse....


Aside from the progesterone scare, my pregnancy was going well.

The baby was growing normally and loved to kick.  I was 6 months along and was very careful about not over eating so I only gained 14 pounds.  Since diabetes ran in my family I was very careful not to overeat.  Gestational diabetes was the last thing I wanted.  My blood pressure was normal.  And I was the cutest little pregnant woman ever!

One night I climbed into bed.  Since my belly was growing, it was starting to get difficult to find a comfortable position. I moved.  And then my bed was wet.  Did I pee on myself?  Why the hell was my bed wet?

I stood up and a flood poured from between my legs.

We called the doctor who asked if I was sure it was urine.  "Of course its urine!"  I was adamant!  After all, I knew my body.  I was absolutely appauled at the thought of wearing Depends for the rest of my pregnancy!

"Well, you should come in and let me check you out."

Off I was to the hospital.

Upon arriving I was hooked up to a couple of machines.  There was lots of beeping and long strips of paper.  Every now and then the doctor would come in, look at the strips of paper, purse her lips and walk out.  I kept expecting her to come back in and tell me that I had some minor thing.  That all I needed was a prescription and a few days of rest.

That never happened.

The longer I waited, the more pursed her lips got, the more I knew that what was wrong was no little thing.

"Ok....we're going to move you up to labor and delivery..."
"Labor and delivery?!?  Why?"
"Because you're in labor.."

I felt some tightening around my abdomen towards my back.  I didn't know that was a contraction.  And I was only 6 months along.

That was easily the longest night of my life.  I thought that because I was living a wild life, God was punishing me by taking my baby.  I asked to see the chaplain and I had confession.  Something I hadn't done in 12 years.  I even forgot the act of contrition.  But he was a nice priest from Nigeria who prayed for my daughter.  I said that God was punishing me.

He then explained something to me that I will never forget.  He said that the Virgin Mary had to go through the pain of watching her son die on the cross.  And she did everything right in her life.  And she still suffered for her child.  She was perfect and she still had to go through that pain.  Basically, God wasn't playing favorites and he wasn't punishing me.

He then gave me Plenitary Absolution...my soul was a clean slate.  I have screwed that up since then.

I made it through the night and my labor subsided. 

My doctors told me that I was lucky.  I had gone through premature membrane rupture.  The bag that the baby is in popped and all the fluid came out.  Luckily, in these cases, the mother's body continues making more fluid.

My job was to do nothing.  My job was to lie down and stare at the walls and do nothing.  And I should continue doing this until I go into real labor.  And because my membrane had ruptured, I was at a higher risk of developing an infection that could kill the baby.  So I had to lie there, staring at the walls, in the hospital...while the rest of my life went on without me.

And I didn't know how long my life would go on without me.  I could be on bedrest for a few days and give birth to a severely premature child or I could be on bed rest for 3 months and give birth to a full term baby.

And I started the clock...

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

High Risk....


Thanks to my Polycystic Ovarian Disease Syndrome...or whatever...I knew my pregnancy would be difficult.   From the second that second blue line appeared in my pregnancy test I was labeled high risk.

My first trimester was pretty uneventful aside from the heartburn I could feel in my knees!  I sometimes wonder if I was born to be a mother or if I was born to be a nurse.  I guess it could be both.  As my body changed, things started to hurt.  I remember a cousin of mine was pregnant years before and every time she felt the slightest sting or pain, off she ran to the hospital.  When I felt those same pains I knew that my body was making room for a growing baby.  I assumed that if my ligaments were stretching, then that's probably what hurt.  It was pretty instinctual.

I went to my doctor for regular exams and blood work.

I came home from work one day and I found a message waiting for me.  It was the nurse practitioner from my doctors office.  "Hi Sonia...this is Jane...just wanted to let you know that I got the results from you blood tests back and everything looks great...ummm...can you call me as soon as you get this message...here's my direct number..."

Turns out that my progesterone level dropped below normal.  Just to be safe, Jane wanted me to go to the local hospital and get an ultrasound to make sure everything was ok.  And after my ultrasound I should drop by to see her.

No big whoop.  I went to the ultrasound.  Everything seemed normal and off I went to see Jane.

When she walked into the waiting room she seemed absolutely floored that I was there.  But she called me into her office none the less...

"Did you get the ultrasound?"
"Yep"
"What did they say?"
"They said everything was fine and the baby is normal."
"YOU MEAN ITS STILL ALIVE?!?!?"

Apparently progesterone is a very important hormone.  No progesterone...no baby.  And my progesterone level was nearly non-existent. 

Everyone assumed that the baby was already dead.  So what they were actually doing was sending me off for the ultrasound to confirm my pregnancy was over.  And I was supposed to get a dilation and curettage (a D&C) after the ultrasound.  My progesterone level was so low that no one expected the baby to still be alive.  So seeing me sitting in the waiting room without a care in the world was quite shocking to the medical staff.

For the next weeks, I needed to take progesterone suppositories to keep the pregnancy going.

I had come so close to having a miscarriage.

Little did I know...the worst was yet to come.

Monday, February 9, 2009

When My Daughter Saved My Life.....



I was 9 years old when I first got my period.

I figured that would get your attention!  And now that I have it, its best to start at the beginning.

I was very young when I got my period.  My mom and my doctor told me how this now meant that I was becoming a woman.  My pediatrician...a horrible, horrible shrew of a woman by the way....gave me the run down on what it meant to have my period.  I remember she said that if you have your period, it was now possible to carry a baby.

I didn't think about that until 5 years later.

I was 14 years old and my period was horribly irregular.  It would come and hang out for weeks...and then go away and not come back for months.  I was put through a slew of tests to find out why my period was irregular.  And at 14, I was told it was Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome...now its Polycystic Ovarian Disease..not sure why its a disease now, but that is neither here nor there. 

I was told that this syndrome/disease would make it very difficult to have babies and even harder to carry them to term.  That's kind of a lot for a 14 year old to take in.  My doctor didn't know what to make of the tears...my mom made it worse by telling me that I should keep this a secret and not tell anyone in the family.  After all, I was damaged now.  What would people think if they knew I couldn't have children?

I dealt with the news as the years went on.  In college..it meant that I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant like the other girls.  After college, it meant that I could focus on my career without getting bogged down with children.  After all...they were huge career killers. 

This is what I told myself.

Life goes on....and I got married.  (I remember when...I remember where...its the "why" that I am a bit fuzzy on these days.)

I got a job at a local news station working for peanuts, but it was a foot in the door to the TV news industry.  I had to be at work from 2am to 10am.  The hours sucked...but I loved my job..I loved my life...I was having a great time.

Maybe I was having too good a time...

When I was growing up, my life was very black and white.  For example....doing drugs?  That was bad!  Eating your veggies?  That was good!  Now I was older, and loving my life, and going out, and having fun....and those black and white issues soon started presenting shades of gray.  Like drugs....a little booze here... a little pot there...

And then people started mentioning other drugs...ecstacy... cocaine...pills...and the idea of trying them was not entirely out of the question.  I remember a friend saying to me that the next time he scored some coke he would let me try some...and it didn't seem like a bad idea to me.  After all...I could handle it as long as it was only once.

Well, I was young... or at least younger than I am now.  And my husband and I decided that since we were young and had no children that we should have as much fun as we could!  Taking spontaneous road trips, going out and doing stuff, and having sex every day!  And we had a blast!  Those were the days!

I remember it was now roughly August of 2000.  My husband pointed out that I needed to go to the gym because I put on a few pounds.  And I was off to the gym to try to stay in shape...but I was so tired.  I was tired all the time and no matter how much sleep I got...I was still tired...exhausted...spent.  My husband told me that I was being lazy and that if I got to the gym like I promised I would..then I would feel energized.

It wasn't working.

I had this friend at work, Amanda.  Everyday I came in with a new idea about what was wrong with me.  Maybe I needed more sleep...maybe I was anemic...maybe I should eat more protien...or more vegetables...maybe I needed a vacation or a daily vitamin.  Finally after a week she says "Maybe you should just go to the doctor!"  I think she got annoyed with my constant whining.

I had an appointment coming up with my GYN anyway and I figured she could run a test for anemia.

One of my jobs at the news station was to run the teleprompter.  This is what news anchors read while on the air.  Its kind of important...if you don't do it right the anchors look like deer in headlights.  I would read the screen along with them...if I couldn't see what they were reading, that meant they couldn't see it either so I had to make the text roll accordingly.  I had gotten so good at this that I could read along with them, adjust the text and plan the rest of my day in my head at the same time.

So the anchor was reading the news and in my head I was running down my symptoms....severe fatigue...weight gain...nausea...heart burn...disgust of chicken in all forms...increased appitite....OH SHIT.....

All of a sudden everything was going in slow motion and I tried to wrap my head around one thought:

"I'M KNOCKED UP!"

And I stood there...like a deer in headlights.

And so did the anchor because the text stopped dead in its tracks!  All of a sudden I heard the director SCREAMING into my headset, "JESUS CHRIST!! PROMPTER!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE PROMPTER!!!!"

Later that afternoon I sat in my doctors office.  We did the usual GYN things.  And finally I said "I think I may be anemic because I'm not feeling well.  But....just to be sure...let's also do a pregnancy test...just to rule it out."

The doctor smiled...and gave me a look that said "Uh- huh...sure...lets just rule it out...ok...whatever you want to call it."

We did the test.  Three little drops of pee go into a little window of a test.  I was told that I would see a blue line form, that would mean the test was working.  If I saw a second blue line, it meant I was pregnant.

So I waited...and there was the first blue stripe..."Oh well, I didn't think I was pregnant anyway."  But my doctor said "Wait, you have to give it a minute."

So I waited.  And I saw a blue dot.  And another blue dot.  And another...and another..and all those dots formed a second blue line.

I was pregnant.

All those years I was told it was never going to happen for me.  And I was pregnant.  I had another human being living inside my body.  And I burst into tears.  I remember my doctor panicking asking me if this was a bad thing and telling me I had options.  But they were really happy, shocked tears. 

I was no longer damaged.

After I left the doctors office, I went to the bookstore and picked up a copy of "What to Expect when Expecting."  And then I went to the supermarket to buy fruits, vegetables, juices, vitamins, granola...all sorts of happy healthy things. 

In one instance I knew that what ever I put in my body would be shared with the little person inside of me.  A little person who was depending on my to do the right thing.  After all, I was this little persons mother and it was my job to do the right thing.

Now here's the thing...my pregnancy was full of complications and was high risk....any anyone who knew me at the time says that I did everything I could to bring my daughter into this world..to save her life.

But it was really my daughter who saved my life. 

Addiction runs in my family.  And I know now that I have the potential to be an outstanding alcoholic or drug addict.  Its just part of who I am and that's why I keep that part of me in check at all times.

I think that if I didn't get pregnant when I did, I would have gone ahead and tried all of those drugs.  And I would probably be a junkie right now...or dead.  But there was no way in hell I was going to put drugs in my body knowing I was pregnant with my child. 

So in that regard...

My daughter saved my life.


Wow... My Kid is Growing Up!!!



It has come to my attention that in a few days my daughter will be 8 years old.

I'm having a lot of trouble dealing with this.  She is my one and only baby and she is growing up so quickly!

And no matter what I do, she won't stop!!

I have asked nicely.  I have made firm requests.  I have tried bribery.  I have flat out told her to stop it!  And soon I will resort to plain old begging.  But no matter what I do...she won't stop this "growing up" thing!!

Its the subtle changes that kill me.  She used to have these cute chubby little feet, now they're not chubby anymore.  And she has lost most of her baby fat.  And where the hell did she get long legs from?!?!?  She certainly didn't get them from me!

And now she's concerned about cute shoes...her hair...and she's having all these opinions!
And she argues with me!

And she thinks like a lawyer!!!! 

Today in the supermarket, we were picking out snacks for school.  She wanted to buy these big hunks of fudge.  I said no because its candy and her school does not allow candy as a snack.

She looked at the fudge and said, "Mommy...fudge is like chocolate.  Chocolate is a candy...but if I bring chocolate chip cookies for a snack its ok.  So I can eat candy as long as its in a cookie.... so I should be able to have the candy without the cookie!  Why does the cookie make the candy ok?"

How do you respond to that?!?! 

All I could say was "BECAUSE I SAID SO!!"  And I felt like a dumbass saying that because I didn't know what else to say to that!

So in the upcoming days....I will be posting a blog here and there about my daughter in celebration of her upcoming birthday.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

We Have Arrived.....


What can I say about today?  I don't know if I have the words to describe the thoughts racing around in my head.  Today I saw the world change.  I bore witness to the dawn of a new era.  I saw a person of color reach the highest office of the nation.

I saw a man, who not too long ago in history would have been told to get to the back of the bus, become president of the United States of America.  A man who came from humble beginings.  A man who was raised by a single mother.  A man who was the son of an immigrant.  He became President of the United States of America.

I know my daughter is only 7 years old and doesn't really quite grasp why this is such a momentus moment.  She's young and fortunate because she has not experienced some of that hate the world has to offer.

A few months ago, before the election, I talked to her about why I was voting for Obama.  I told her that he worked really hard and got into a really good school.  He worked really hard and got a law degree from one of the most prestegious universities in the world.  And I told her that instead of getting a cushy job with a fat cat salary, he used his degree to help people.  My daughter says "Well, then he should be president!"

And now he is.

And now I can turn to my daughter and say "If you work hard and never give up, you can be anything you want to be!"  And this time, I won't be lying.  And my daughter will grow up different than I did.  She won't see the limitations I did because of my race.  She will not grow up thinking that a person of color reaching the highest office in the land  as an impossibility.  I still can't believe it.

When the elections results were in on November 4th, and Barack Obama was declared the next President of the United States, I called my mom to share the news and celebrate.  She was so happy and she she said "You know what this means!  Now one of us can be next!"  I didn't give my mother's hope of seeing a Latino president much thought, I think I was too caught up in the moment.

I watched the inauguration at work.  We have a huge auditorium and it was filled beyond capacity today as about 250 of us watched the inauguration.  We cheered and many times we cried.  And we prayed that God would protect our new leader and give him all the strength, wisdom and support he could ever need to guide us into this new era.

What I will never forget was the benediction at the end which was delivered by Rev. Joseph Lower.  I was sitting with a co-worker who is Korean.  And we listened as he delivered his words. 

And he said, "Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen"

I couldn't believe it, I whispered to my friend "He's talking about us!  He's referring to us!"
I looked for some some other co-workers who were also Latino.  They were just as stunned as I was.  "He's talking about us!"

I had never heard us mentioned before.  During Barack Obama's Inauguration, we were mentioned.  We were talked about.  WE BECAME PART OF THE AMERICAN FABRIC FOR THE FIRST TIME!!  We are no longer "other" people who just happen to live in this country. And now my mother's idea of a Latino president became a definite possibility because we are now players in the game!  Barack Obama has opened the door and shown that Americans come in all colors!  Like Rev. Lower said, we're black, we're brown, we're yellow, we're white and we're red.  We're here!

AND WE HAVE AT LONG LAST ARRIVED!

Monday, January 19, 2009

Iraq for Sale...


I put my foot down today and decided that I would not spend my evening watching Sponge Bob or iCarly or whatever my daughter wanted to watch tonight.  So I was flipping through the "On Demand"cable menu and I saw "Iraq for Sale."  I remember wanting to watch that, but I don't always get to watch what I want to watch....as you can see from my opening sentence.

"Iraq for Sale" basically goes into detail about the massive profits made by companies like Halliburton/KBR, Blackwater, Titan, and CACI in Iraq.

It made me so damned mad!  These companies made BILLIONS of dollars off the backs of American troops and the American public. 

For example, in order for Paul Bremmer to feel safe, the US government hired Blackwater to protect him.  Apparently our own United Sates Marine Corp was not up to snuff, so the goverment shelled out $21 million.  During that time, Blackwater employees either died in combat (although they were not part of the US military) or killed civilians.  If they killed civilians they were fired and sent home, they did not have to stand trial for killing Iraquis because military law did not apply to them.

According to the Chicago Tribune, about 770 American civilians have been killed in Iraq.  CIVILIANS, not military.  People who were told about all the money they would make if they went to Iraq for a little while to drive trucks, or do laundry, or cook.  Now, in other wars the US has been involved in, the military took care of their own laundry and cooking and such.  But now it needed to outsource these jobs to Halliburton/KBR.  And from what I understand from the film, they did a piss poor job.  Soldiers would send their clothes to be laundered and get their clothes back as if they had never been washed.  KRB charged the US government $100 for each bag of laundry it "washed."  KBR refused to have 24 food service because it was too expensive, so soldiers had to wait over an hour to get food.  And because they would stand in these huge food lines, insurgents knew just went to attack.  Civialian truck drivers were told to just get out there and drive convoys back and forth...sometimes with empty trucks.  Just so Halliburton could add it to the bill.

And another thing that pissed me off was that Halliburton was supposed to build water purification systems so that soldiers would have safe water to cook with and bathe with.  Turns out a huge MAJORITY of the water purification systems did not work.  So soldiers were bathing in and drinking water that was tainted with things like fecal matter, malaria, and typhoid.  The US government knew this and STILL paid Halliburton!

Now CACI and Titan...they provided interrogation and interpretation services.  Many of the interpreters only had a rudimentary understanding of Arabic and Farsi...so God knows what shape any data or intel secured looked like.  Oh...and they tortured prisoners, many of which were just picked up off the street for no reason.  One of these such "insurgents" was an older woman who was told that if she didn't confess everything she knew about the insurgency, she would be gang raped.  That just makes me proud to be an American.  And if you have never heard of CACI and Titan...just google Abu Ghraib.

Now let me ask you this.....what do all these companies have in common?  These companies have major connections to the Bush administration.  They have made huge contributions to Republican causes.  And let's not forget, Dick Cheyney, the Dick as I like to call him, is the former CEO of Halliburton.

It makes me mad because there was NO need for us to go into Iraq in the first place.  There were no Weapons of Mass Destruction.  Alquaeda was not there before we invaded...athough they are there now thanks to the war.  And over 100,000 Iraqui human beings are gone. 

This war plunged us into debt and these companies got rich of off it while hurting the American Soldier, the American Public, the Iraqui Public, the American Image as a leader, and even their own employees.  All of this happened during the Bush/Cheyney administration.

Tonight is the last night this administration will be in power and I have to say, I have been celebrating this last night with my good friend Captain Morgan.  And tomorrow at noon we will start a brand new era of change...THANK GOD.

I was talking with my a friend today about the last eight years and what they have meant to this country.  And my friend asked why George Bush and Dick Cheyney weren't being charged with crimes against humanity.  I have to say...that would be a great idea!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Hope....



Tuesday is almost here and I am about to burst from excitement!  The beginning of a very long journey is over and Day One will finally be here!

We will begin the arduous journey of putting the pieces of our shattered country back together again and bringing forth a renewed America.

While watching the many retrospectives on Barack Obama's climb to the presidency, I thought about the moments that I will always remember.

I remember starting out backing Hillary Clinton, but now in hindsight, I see that what I was backing was a return to the Clinton years...oh those unprecedented eight years of peace and prosperity!  Those were good years!

I remember taking 20 minutes fill out my ballot during the primary.  I didn't know who to give my vote to, Hillary or Barack.  More than once, I was asked if I needed help understanding the ballot.  I just needed help making my choice.  I gave my precious vote to Barack Obama and hoping I made the right choice.

I remember those contentious debates!  I woke up my daughter on several occasions because I was yelling at the TV.

I remember that while money was tight, I donated to his campaign...$5 here...$5 there...$10 after getting a really good tip at a face painting gig...and of course my donation to Planned Parenthood in honor of Sarah Palin!

I remember taking my daughter to the polls so that one day she would remember that she was there when her mother...and her grandmother, a naturalized citizen....cast their votes and became a part of history.

I remember screaming when the election results were finally in!

I remember being moved to tears during Barack Obama's speech later that evening!

I was told once by an acquaintance that I was wasting my time on Barack Obama because  you can't run a country on hope.  I was told how stupid I was to believe in his message of hope.

As far as hope...I think that hope is a powerful tool.

Colonists waged war against the crown of King George because they had HOPE in starting a new country run by its citizens and not by a monarchy!

Slaves risked their lives by escaping to the North in HOPE of living as free men and women!

European Jews survived the horrors of the concentration camps because they had HOPE that they would be freed!

Immigrants from all over the world, immigrants like my mother, came to this country with the HOPE of a better life!

And we all cast our votes in HOPE that we could turn this country around.

Hope is never anything we can look down on.

 And on Tuesday, Hope will change the course of history!




Friday, January 16, 2009

You Can Take the Girl Out of Dorchester.....



Well you know the rest.

As some of you know, my mouth has been known to get me into trouble from time to time.
I wasn't always like this. There was a time in my life when I was a door mat and let myself get pushed around. Somewhere in college, I found my voice. And this is where the trouble began.

Like many people, I always come up with the perfect "come back" long after the argument is over. But not tonight.

I got home after picking up the kid and going to the market. (Friday is the best day to go to the market because its empty by the way.) Its cold, I'm tired and I want to go inside...but there's this woman walking her dog around the parking lot of my building. This bothers me because one: She does not live here! And two: whenever a dog does his buisiness on the property, my dog gets blamed for it even though I ALWAYS pick up after my dog!

So I yell out, "Hey!! You're gonna pick up after your dog right?"

"He's not doing anything to pick up!" She did not seem happy.

"Pick up after your dog! We have rules here!!" Yes, I could have left well enough alone, but technically, she was trespassing.

"Is being an asshole one of the rules?" Oh hell no! So instead of walking inside I yell out,

"No! That's a service I provide for free to inconsiderate pricks like you! If you got something else to say, maybe you should get a little closer, DOUCHEBAG!"

She left pretty quicky.

Maybe happy suburban Braintree is the wrong place for a city girl from Dorchester to call home.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Who the hell is Brody Jenner?!


A friend of mine called me last week and asked me if she was old.  She is 6 months older than me so I jokingly replied, "Yes, Julie, you are old!  Older than me at least!" 

Now, Julie is an incredibly busy person.  She is married, is raising 3 teenage stepsons, works full time and is getting an MBA.  My good friend Julie, who was Valedictorian of my high school class, graduated with honors from Boston University on a full scholarship, and is currently working on her MBA picked up a gossip magazine.  She wanted to kick back during her winter break with her favorite guilty pleasure.

She didn't recognize anyone in the magazine.

"If I don't recognize anyone in the magazine, does that mean I'm old?"

I took a look at a magazine....I didn't know who half these people are!

I had to do a google search to find out that Samantha Ronson is Linsay Lohan's lesbian life partner.  Some girl named Tila Tequila, who happens to be bi-sexual and looking to find true love with anything with a pulse, was mentioned from time to time.   Dita Von Teese is apparently turning heads in Hollywood.  Her claim to fame is that she is a Burlesque dancer (i.e. classy stripper) and was married to Marilyn Manson. 

I had to google these people and I actually felt dumber after doing my research.

Now here's the one who bother's me the most.  Brody Jenner.  His name has been around a lot lately.  He hosted some concert in Boston.  He filled in for Ryan Seacrest on the radio. He has a show on MTV apparently called Bromance...not sure what its about.

His claim to fame?  His dad is Bruce Jenner and his step sister is Kim Kardashian.

Seriously?  This is what it takes to make you a celebrity?  At least his dad won a gold medal in the Olympics!  Kim Kardashian has a big ol' behind and showed off her fun bags in Playboy.  Apparently these two facts, coupled with the fact he is pretty is enough to make him a celebrity.

I guess I am old.  Back in my day, celebrities were celebrities because they did something that was celebrated.  Maddona told the world she felt like a virgin.  George Michaels asked us to wake him up before we go-go.  Molly Ringwald was pretty in pink.  LL Kool J was going to knock you out because his mama told him to.  Flo Jo was the fastest woman alive!  Alissa Milano showed us that you don't have to have blue eyes and blond hair to be considered pretty!  The U.S. women's soccer team kicked ass at World Cup!

They were celebrated because of what they did...not because of what their dad or step siblings did.

Yes, I admit it, I'm old.  But I'm smart enough to recognize a magazine full of bullshit when I see it.