On: The People from Our Pasts

I've been thinking a lot about my past. Maybe it's because children always make you reflect on life. Maybe it's because, I often wonder how I got to this place. How I made it to the person I am today. 

It would be a joke to think I'm here today solely on my own merits. 

I'm here, the person I am in the place I'm in, not only because, of who I am inside, but because, of the people who touched my life in the past. 

There have been dozens, maybe hundreds, possibly even thousands of people who have changed the course of my life, just by happenstance. However, I rarely think of them.

 Every once in a while, when major changes happen in my life, I find myself thinking about a girl I used to know. 

We'd grown up in the same town, went to the same high school, and participated in the same activities, but we weren't truly friends until after the thrill of graduation, and the realization that the friends we'd made in school weren't friends who could go the distance. 

After my first marriage deteriorated and I found out I was pregnant, she's the person who drove through the night with me from the bright lights of California to the towering trees and cloudy skies of Washington, to escape the unhealthy situation I'd found myself in. 

Two months later, she held my hand as my body fought to save a baby that didn't have a chance, and I lost my son to a medical mistake. 

She is the person who grabbed me by the heart and forced me to start living life again, when all I felt capable of doing was hiding in the dark and crying. 

 There are hundreds of photos of us together. Moments of our lives captured, frozen in time forever. I have them in a box in the closet. I can pull out a photo and remember the exact moment it was taken. A pretty neat trick considering most of the photos were taken while alcohol was flowing freely, and we weren't feeling any pain. 

During those times, my only plan was to live life without true emotion. To have fun, to smile, to have a good time, but to never dig too deeply into my heart, because that is where the darkness would overcome me. I drank to have fun, I drank to be fun, and I drank to hold off the memories of dreams I'd only begun to have. 

Our party days had to come to an end sometime, and that happened when I eventually opened my heart enough to let it heal. I got married to the Marine, moved to Hawaii, and life slowly began again. 

We maintained our friendship through several moves--from Hawaii to Virginia, but when I finally moved back to the same coast, back this time to California, things changed. 

She had her third child, a son, and I wasn't there for the birth. I hadn't been the first person to hear about the pregnancy, and I found out about the birth weeks after the fact. 

We never had a falling out, never had a blowup of any kind. We just got caught up with our own lives. I wish things could be different, but they're not. Life goes on, and some people aren't supposed to be there forever. Some people have a specific job to do, and once it is done, they move on. 

When I think of her, there is a tinge of sadness for the memories of long ago, but there is mostly happiness. 

Happiness, because of the life I have now. The choices she helped me make. The adventures we had that led me to where I was supposed to be. 

I only hope, I helped her as much as she helped me. 

R.S.

Do you have someone from your past that you think fondly of? I'd love to hear the story.

On: Jimmy's World

* This was meant to go out at 0600 Friday, but some how I forgot to actually publish it. I blame pregnancy brain.

I don't know if many of you ever read the article "Jimmy's World", in the Washington Post on September 28, 1980. It won a Pulitzer Prize, that was later returned when the truth of the article came to light. Click here for the article.

Maybe it’s because I write fiction myself that the first half of the article actually sounded like the beginning of a story, not of an article in a well respected newspaper. The details were too flowery for me to not question the legitimacy of it. I’m not saying journalist don’t have a way with words, but there tends to be a more clinical feel to every article I’ve ever read. 

Whereas, a lot of people wouldn’t believe it, because the thought of a child being shot up by an adult, and none of the adults doing anything about it, seems too horrible and farfetched, that isn’t what rings false for me. Granted, that could be, because I’ve seen the track marks first hand on a child who was much younger than eight (the daughter of a neighbor who, thanks to police intervention no longer has access to the poor child). This world is a horrible and terrifying place a lot of the time.

Which does bring me to another thing I found questionable, and had I not already suspected the article of being a mostly well done work of fiction, would have made me (especially if I was an editor) wonder about the authenticity of the article. Where was the police intervention? Where was the school or CPS? I realize in the 80’s things weren’t like they are now, but even then, as a child in San Diego, I remember my teacher showing up on my doorstep with my homework when I missed more than one day of class.  

What are you thoughts and insights into this article? I'd love to know. 

R.S.

On: New Year, New Goals, New Plans

Everyone seems to make resolutions at the beginning of each new year. I've never been good with resolutions.

I'm much better with the word goals. Goals seem to be something solid. Something you can make legitimate plans for.

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm happiest when there is a plan of action in place.

Gone are the days when flying by the seat of my pants was the way to go. Anymore, the thought of that makes me a little queasy and ready to run for the hills.

I think I'm getting old.

Being pregnant doesn't help that either, especially when I have to hit the restroom every 45 minutes without fail. My bladder has shrunk to the size of a pea. Possibly a dehydrated baby pea.

Anyway, onto the Goals for the 2013 year.

• Blog at least once every week, on Fridays.
• Become more active in promoting my blog, and connecting with others through social media.
• Write one piece of Flash Fiction each month.
• Self-publish two more works. Either novels or short stories.
• Give birth to a happy and healthy baby.
• Return to my everyday yoga practice.
• Finish my yoga instructor training (the one that got postponed due to pregnancy)
• Keep positive reminders around me, so when I feel down or dark I can remember the good.
• Snuggle with my children as often as possible.
• Take time for myself.
• Make time for at least one date night a month (when the Marine is home).
• Be the best version of me I can be.

  Make 2013 your year. I know I will.

 What are your goals and plans for the New Year? I'd love to hear. 

R.S.

On Borrowing From Your Children

Maybe it was the way I was raised-- though I don't remember seeing any awards for parent of the year on shelves in the house while growing up, but I have the strange belief that parents are supposed to protect, educated, guide, and help their children.

Not the other way around. 

In our home, and even in the home I grew up in, the parents NEVER borrowed from the children. It just wasn't done. 

For instance, there were times while growing up that money was undoubtedly tight, but my parents NEVER came to us and said, 'gee, could we bum a couple of bucks--just until payday?' In my house, the Marine and I would never dream of going to the Munchkin and borrowing money from her.

Granted, she's not yet four, but she's got a college savings plan and a savings account that has more money in it than most Marines, and they're supposed to be adults. 

Have there been times where access to a couple of grand would have been nice? Could we have used it and then replaced it later? 

Sure.

If we weren't who we are.

That money is our daughter's. Not ours.

Every year the money we get from the child income tax credit goes straight into her college fund. We do not touch it.

Ever.

The way we see it is, without her we wouldn't have that money so it should go to her. She's in theory earned it for putting up with us for a year. 

Not everyone agrees with me on this.

I won't steal borrow money from my child's future just because I didn't plan well enough for myself. The Marine and I decided that long before we ever had children. 

We might not be perfect people, or perfect parents, but our daughter will have opportunities our families didn't give to us.

If nothing else, the Munchkin will be able to say, "my parents never did THAT." 

It's something, right?

Do you have any experiences with this? What are your thoughts?

R.S. 

  

On Building the Future

What's tickling my ears? Eminem: Cleaning Out My Closet

There are days when I seriously wonder what the future is going to be.

Not my future, but the future of my child and her peers.

Whitney Houston once sang that she believed our 'children are the future'.

If that is truly the case, shouldn't each parent strive to give their children every possible benefit they'd need to make their, and in turn our, future strong and bright?

Why is it then, so many children go without the proper love and guidance they so desperately want and require?

Why is it harder to get a driver's license than it is to become a parent?

Why are there so many child abusers getting away with bruising their children both physically and mentally?

 Why is it still so hard to protect the innocents from the horrors, and traumatic experiences they suffer at the hands of an abusive mother, father or caregiver?

Abuse and neglect come in many forms. You never have to lift a hand to your child to injure them, to beat them. All it takes is casual disregard or negative words, and it can be as damaging as a physical slap.

The worth of a true parent doesn't have to come from what you can buy your child, but from what you give them of yourself.

Your time, patience, love, understanding, and forgiveness.

A true parent puts their child's wants and needs before their own.

Take this story for instance.

"I don't know what to do, Jess. Val's been acting up, not listening, and I'm at the end. I can't deal with it anymore."


Jess sighed. She'd heard this before. "Why don't you let her come here for the summer. She could stay with her uncle and I, and you could have some time to relax."


"It's just too expensive to buy a plane ticket. We can't do that."


She logged onto her laptop and brought up a site specializing in inexpensive flights. "A round trip ticket is only two hundred dollars. I'll cover half, and it won't be so bad. It's what's best for your daughter. She'll have responsibility, and a chance to be away for a while. It won't be a vacation, but you'll both get the space you need."


"No... We can't afford that. She'll just have to get over her attitude. Her father and I are going to buy a new seventy-two inch flat screen, entertainment center, and surround sound soon. It's more important for us to put away that hundred bucks than waste it on a ticket for that ungrateful brat."


Too often parents consider it more important to have the newest, most exciting and expensive toys, than to put that want off until their children were happier, healthier, or safer.

This behavior isn't the only sign of bad parenting.

Bad parenting also appears when you show negativity towards your child. Calling them stupid, or dumb, or worthless--it's abuse, and eventually will have an equally negative affect on the child.

Nobody is a perfect parent, but being a positive role model who puts their children's happiness and well being before their own needs and wants is a good start.

Showing you love them, and making sure you say the words is just as important as providing a roof over their heads, and enough food to nourish their bodies.

I love you.

Three little words.

Powerful. Healing. Empowering.

As long as you truly mean them and back them up with your actions.

Every day I make sure I tell my daughter I love her. I make sure she gets hugs and kisses whenever possible, and no matter what, I never show negative actions towards her. She will never hear anything except loving and positive words from me.

She will get every opportunity to thrive in a happy and loving environment, to become the best she can be. No matter what that is.

I believe my daughter is the future.

I will teach her and let her lead the way.

I will give her all the love she needs to go out on her own and be strong.

She will never have to walk in anyone's shadow.

She will never have to be afraid to talk to me, because she will know she is loved.

Love your children, and teach them how to love themselves and others.

It's the greatest gift of all.


R.S.


**I am not a psychologist, but I am a parent. I may not have a fancy degree, but I know what it feels like to not be shown love...and what it feels like to show it to my daughter.

On Kristine Marie Cushing

First, what is up with mothers killing their young and getting away with it? Sometimes, reality is so much stranger than fiction.

The other day I came across an article about a custody dispute. Normally, I wouldn't bother reading something like this, but it also happened to take place not far from where I grew up, and involved a former Marine Officer.

I'm a little concerned about the state of our legal system when the officials don't even bat an eye when a woman convicted of killing her own daughters  in 1991, is once again living with children-- this time her ex-husband's children from a second marriage.

Found Not Guilty by the Prozac Defense

This of course, prompts the question: when halfway houses wouldn't even take her in after her first release from the mental institution in 1994, why would the father of the children she executed in their sleep, take her back?

Everything about this situation boggles the mind. As a mother I'd be horrified and appalled, just as Trisha Conlin is. As the wife of a Marine, I wonder what the hell the man is thinking. He didn't just take her  back, he remarried her. I'm also equally glad he's no longer actively serving in the Marines. I sure as hell wouldn't want him in charge of my husband, and I doubt any Marine would ever trust his judgement during maneuvers in a war zone.

Kristine's doctors are claiming she's not a safety risk, and the only reason she killed her two daughters before failing to kill herself was because of a bad reaction to Prozac.

Really? That's what they're going with?

What happens if she suddenly has another bad reaction to a medication?

How many times will they allow a person to use the 'it wasn't me, it was the medication' defense? Maybe we should start calling it the 'Prozac Defense'.

It seems like a pretty weak cop out.

Plain and simple, the woman is a killer.

There is no coming back from that.

Ever.

Especially, when she took the lives of two small children she gave birth to and was responsible for nurturing and protecting.

Thoughts?

R.S.

On Today's Happiness

I find that I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want to blog about, and half the time nothing I come up with seems interesting enough.

Today, while I was contemplating a topic, I realized something.

 I'm happy.

 Yes, it's still relatively early to most people, though I've been awake since six--just like everyday when my three year old daughter/personal alarm clock, wakes up, but to me it's well toward 'mid-day'.

I'm feeling good about myself, and with myself (and yes, there is a difference).

 

I have an amazing daughter who even when she's driving me batty, is  still the most amazing person in my life. I've got great friends who love me, even though they're hundreds of miles away; family who loves me--both those who live with me, and those who also live their daily lives in various states across the country.

I'm happy.

I'm happy, because I realized all the choices in my life have led me here.

Right here.

To this day.

To this blog post.

To this city in the middle of the desert that most people have never even heard of, let alone visited.

Every bad decision, painful experience, emotionally dark period, and wonderful highlight, has led me to the person I am today.

A mother, a wife, a writer, a photographer, a friend, and a confidant.

I'm not the world traveler I someday want to be, and I haven't been published...yet, but all of those are on my personal horizon.

If I had a chance to go back and change anything in my past... any of the horrible experiences, the loss of innocence, the dark days after the death of my son, the heartbreak I wasn't sure I'd survive... I wouldn't change it.

Why?

Because I wouldn't be where I am, who I am, or what I am today.

Today wouldn't be... today.

Life is a precious, precious thing. Don't take it for granted, and don't regret the experiences in your past. Always remember who you were, where you came from, and who was there to help you along...

R.S.