Posted in Uncategorized

Old Yeller

No, not the dog. I’m talking about me, and my propensity towards being rather loud. I come from a family of yellers- my mom is one, by grandfather was one. My cousin Heidi, my Uncle Boogie, (yes, I have an uncle named Boogie. His real name is Fizzle, though, just to clear that up.) the whole mess of us are yellers. Thanksgiving at our house is not for the faint of heart- it is, however, great if you are hard of hearing.

The bad thing about being a yeller is that when you are actually upset (which for me, with my two kids, puppy and somewhat frustrating boyfriend, is often) you have no choice but to kick it up a decibel or twelve. The neighbors always know who I am. I don’t always care for the way they look at me when I am outside- I mean, really. You try living with this bunch of maniacs, sometime. I am actually a really nice person, as long as you don’t know me very well.

The other bad thing about being a yeller is that after a while, no one pays attention to you anymore, no matter how loud you get. “Oh, that’s just my crazy mom again.” Aisley might say to her friend while I am in the kitchen screaming at what a mess they’ve made, or because someone ate ALL of my emergency Goober Grape AGAIN, and put the empty jar back in the cupboard.

I do not discriminate at whom I yell- inanimate objects are just as likely to be the focus of my rants as are the breathing inhabitants of my home. I try not to yell at the baby, since she is, after all, just a baby…but she may have gotten it a time or two, herself. Like when she just will NOT stop putting the dogs food into the water dish, or she refuses to keep her fingers away from the twelve billion outlets in this house. YES, they all have those baby proofing thingy’s in them, but still! I yell at semi-retarded drivers and sometimes at my own car while I’m driving. I yell at my daughter for using my bathrobe as a make-up rag, and for using my razor. I yell at Devon for leaving coffee cups everywhere and not calling me when he’s going to be home late. I yell and yell and yell, and no one is listening. I’ve become white noise.

But I have a solution. I become quiet. Deadly, scarily quiet. This really freaks everyone out. It’s not an easy thing for me to sustain as it is completely contrary to my nature, but I think I could get better at it with practice.

So…Here is my little project. From now until this time next week, I am going to calmly, quietly, go about my business. When I am pissed off, I am going to find another, new way of dealing with it. I am going to scare the pants off of these monkeys I live with.

Do you think I can do it? Do you think it will even be noticed? Hmmm….let’s see!

Posted in Uncategorized

My Worst Fear…

Is actually happening to someone else, just over the hill. She’s the mother of a beautiful teenage girl, just like me- I don’t know her or her daughter, but I know she is beautiful because I see her face every time I turn on the news. Her daughter, Sierra LaMar, is missing. She’s been missing for fourteen days now…FOURTEEN DAYS. Do you know how long that is for a mother, when your child is missing? Every time I start to imagine it, my mind pulls away in fear, and I can’t. I just can’t imagine it.

I joke around all the time about how awful my teenager is- I’m not saying it’s not true, I’m just saying I crack a lot of jokes about what a hormone imbalanced demon she is. There are times, though, when I am in the middle of things with her, and it’s all I can do to keep from snatching her by her neck or popping her right in her rotten little mouth. I am NOT laughing then. There are moments such as those, when I literally cannot come up with one pleasant feeling for that kid, not even pity for her evil little soul ( 😉 ). It’s really hard to live with her, day in and day out, the way she bullies (yes, she really is a bully-she makes everyone completely miserable until she gets her way. That to me is a bully.) everyone in the house.

But I’ll tell you what-I would gladly live with that kid every day for the rest of my natural life if it meant I could rest easy knowing my baby was safe. My heart goes out to Sierra’s parents and family, but more than anyone else, her mom. I just don’t know how you could possibly get through a day of that kind of fear and worry. Let alone fourteen. There is no drug that could calm you down enough. There is no prayer, except an answered one, that could really comfort you. It upsets my stomach just thinking it over.

I know that while Sierra is missing, they don’t really know if she is harmed or even if she is alive. They aren’t really even saying for sure that it’s an abduction- they are calling her “involuntarily missing”, which sounds about the same to me. They found her cell phone a block from where she was supposed to catch the bus to school, in a field. Later, they found her bag in another field, a mile from the first one. I am trying to ask myself this- if my little girl, my Aisley was missing for fourteen days, would I want her found alive at any cost? I don’t mean to me, of course at any cost to me. But to HER. I am not trying to be morbid, I just can’t fathom that you could avoid those thoughts in those shoes…selfishly, I think my answer would be yes. Maybe I’m just crazy enough to think that there is nothing a mothers love can’t fix. Maybe I would just tell myself that, or anything at all that I needed to, for a chance to hold my daughter again, hear her voice, see her smile. Even to hear her scream how much she hates me, even that would be wonderful.

So many children go missing all the time, every single day, more than you can even comprehend when you look at the statistics. Some of them run off, some are stolen by their parents, or other family members for reasons that are usually at least not horrific. Then there are the kids like Polly Klaas who was stolen from her own room during a sleepover by some evil man and murdered, or Christina Williams in Ft. Ord right here on my peninsula, who was out walking her dog and was never seen again until they found her bones years later. I just don’t and can’t for the life of me, understand it. How can a person be so sick and so selfish and so broken inside that they can destroy so many lives? Those children need not have suffered, ever, but at the very least, their suffering ended. What about the ones left behind who must face the rest of their lives with this part of themselves missing, just stolen and destroyed for nothing, no purpose at all? I don’t really believe you can qualify as a human being when you are capable of such things- there is a vital part missing in those people, and knowing they walk among us, blending in, is terrifying.

I don’t really believe in the death penalty for most things- I think being held in prison for every single day of your life is a far greater punishment than death, and I don’t mind that my tax money has to feed those prisoners. Money well spent. But when it comes to pedophiles or people that steal and harm children, I can’t lie, I change sides. My two girls are THE most important people in the world to me, without exception. That’s what being a parent does to your heart. You devote yourself to loving them and caring for them, to shaping them and to letting them show you who they are, and it is the most intimate of bonds- you will find none closer. And a twisted, crazy minded man is going to just destroy all that love and work and hope and dreams for the fulfillment of some urge he can’t control? Well, that guy needs to die. I like to think that usually, God knows what he is doing. I don’t pretend to know what the master plan is. But I can’t help it in situations like these.

I didn’t mean to rant like that, but I guess I did. I ‘m tired and I ought to be sleeping, but this has been on my heart all day today. I hope that those of you who read this and who pray will include Sierra and her family in your prayers. I certainly will- right after I say thank you God, so, so much, that my babies are here and safe. Please keep them that way.

Goodnight.