The Perks and the Not-So-Perky Perks

D got a job with Delta airlines a month ago. Free flight benefits baby!!!! So why not take a trip to see the General? D had a rare 4 day weekend and won’t have weekends off for a bit so we packed our backpacks and jumped a plane to LAX with J and A in tow. We were ready for adventure. We landed in Orange County (original destination was LAX) very late Friday evening, picked up our rental car (thank you brother Joe) and drove to Aunty Wendi and Aunty Bethany’s house. The kids were super excited to be there and hard to get to sleep. I think the last of us to shut our eyes did so at 4am. Morning came quickly and after breakfast it was time to leave for the airport. We made a quick stop at MJ’s crypt – very cool place that he was buried and amazing to see how many people leave fresh flowers and gifts there daily.

By the time we landed in Hawaii it was dark outside and we were so tired. My parents were there to pick us up and drove us to the house where we showered and crashed. The next few days were awesome. The General and I visited the graves of my grandparents and took fresh flowers from my parent’s yard. That was very meaningful to her, and we were able to talk just the two of us while we sat on the hillside surrounded by the most beautiful mountains ever. I’ll post pics later to illustrate. The kids ate at their favorite restaurant, they played with my niece, got spoiled by my parents, played in the hose for hours and hours, jumped on the trampoline in 80+ degree weather and made friends with other kids in the neighborhood. My favorite part of the trip was watching my parents interact with my kids. It was heart warming and those are the kids of memories that last the longest and are most meaningful. I also love to watch my parents with each other. They have been married almost 43 years and are still so much in love. They are an example of how it’s possible to work through problems and make the most of a relationship despite individual weaknesses. Nowadays it’s just way to damn easy to give up.

We got up really early on Tuesday morning to get to the airport. Once there, it became apparent that there had been flight delays. Passengers were stranded and there wasn’t any way that we would be getting on the early flight. Twelve hours later there wasn’t anyway we were getting home that day, so I had my Dad come get us and take us back to the house. Having another evening with family was great, but it had come at a cost. We were exhausted and I worried about D’s job and the kids getting back to school (both of which wound up working out just fine).

Wednesday we were finally able to get onto a 2pm flight to Los Angeles. We arrived there at 10:30pm, rented a car, drove back to Wendi’s (thanks Wen), crashed, woke up at the crack of dawn, and drove back to the airport. Four hours later we had to get on a plane to San Francisco and then another plane to Salt Lake City. My kids were so delirious when it was all over they actually were confused walking into the house. J even said, “Mom, I thought we were going on another airplane?”

I woke up this morning in my own state of delirium. You know that state where you want to puke because you are so tired and everything takes three times the effort? I headed to work still grateful for the perk of flying home for free, but also feeling the reality of not feeling very perky at all. I think next time I’ll fly free somewhere closer – somewhere close enough that if I have to drive home I can.

This Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual inspired by SouleMama.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’
in the comments for all to find and see.

Little Bear, Apollo and one of the most beautiful places in the world.

P.C.H.A. – Part V

December 28, 2010. Do you remember where you were and what you were doing? No? Shame! It was the day I turned 40 and I’m pretty sure it was headline news. F-O-R-T-Y. The big four-O. The age you reach and realize that your youth is behind you and your mortality is in front of you. I frequently forget my age. I think it’s because I gave birth to J at age 35. Sometimes when I go to pick up the kids from school I look at the other moms and there is a moment when I realize I could be their mothers. Ewwwwww. Ok – I’m going right back to the denial I came from.

Hawaii – 85 degrees and rainy. That’s what it was for the first two days of our trip. I love the rain. I find it mesmerizing and calming. I especially like to fall asleep to the sound of the rain on the roof and all of the trees. In Hawaii when it rains it RAINS. People wonder why Hawaiians carry umbrellas on sunny days. That wonderment vanishes when they get caught in a 30 second down pour that will soak you all the way to your undies.

I woke up and made my daily pilgrimage to McDonald’s for coffee. When I returned I thought it would be a nice gesture to throw in a load of laundry for the General. I noticed a dish towel on the floor and bent down to pick it up. It was soaked and very slimy. I realized that water was coming out from under the wall that adjoined the laundry room and kitchen. I immediately notified the General who then yelled at the Pansy for trying to “mask” the problem. We called Jim, our handyman and he came over to discover that the refrigerator had been leaking for months – and on top of the water there was black mold hidden behind the sheet rock and cupboards of the kitchen. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

We got the fridge out and into the driveway against the house and began the very gross task of sucking up the water that had accumulated. I think I emptied the wet/dry vac at least 20 times and it has a 5 gallon capacity. Because much of my parent’s main floor is tiled, the water had seeped through every nook and cranny possible. The vacuuming went on for 3 days before the water stopped surfacing. Then there was the problem of where to put the food. The General was raised by a woman who was raised by the depression. This means that you DO NOT THROW FOOD AWAY. Even if it’s moldy you freeze it and then maybe one day you can extract the spores and make something out of it. The General’s side by side was STUFFED with food, as was the deep freeze and 2nd side by side in the garage. I think in Hawaii food = love. If this is true, I have one of the most loving homes on the island.

Funny, my sister and nieces were nowhere to be found in this crisis. It was me and the Pansy. The General retired to bed, completely overwhelmed by the circumstances. I’m glad she did  because who knows with her current health if she would have even survived the entire episode. I had roughly 2 hours to re-arrange the remaining fridge/freezers to accommodate what had come out of the kitchen. Tick-tock. Good thing I’m a Project Manager by day. I gutted everything in the garage, threw away more turkey carcasses than I could count, and anything that looked freezer burned. I chipped away the ice that had accumulated for God knows how long, wiped out the interiors with a mix of clorax and dish soap and then re-packed both appliances. When I was done it looked like a highly skilled game of tetris, with everything fitting as best it could.

The babies were outside with me enjoying the sunshine. In Hawaii we don’t play by the same rules as the mainland. They got out the hose and played in their underwear for hours. I’d throw chunks of ice on the driveway and they would pretend they were icebergs. Before long they were sitting on skateboards and pretending to be on canoe’s at sea. I bet 20 cars drove by and not a single person thought two kids in their skivvies was out of the ordinary. I think that morning was actually their favorite day of the trip.

I found it ironic that as I was rinsing out coolers and laundry baskets my sister emerged. She came up to me and hugged me wishing me a happy birthday. She also expressed to me that she was sorry, and that she hadn’t meant to over step her bounds the last two days. She wanted to have a great time with me and with the kids and she seemed sincere. I told her everything was fine and left it at that. The rest of the day was spent cleaning up the black mold mess in the kitchen. The Pansy and I worked until afternoon searching and killing anything that looked like bacteria. After a shower we all loaded up and headed to my absolutely unequivocably favorite restaurant in the whole entire world. It was my birthday after all and Thai food was on the menu! AGAIN, my nieces had to wait for my sister to get ready. AGAIN they showed up 40 minutes later and AGAIN without my Sister. Apparently she ran into more “old friends”. By the time she sauntered into the restaurant, acting like God’s gift to humanity – we had already eaten half of our meal. She had the nerve to demand we order more of a dish that is a family favorite. I turned to her and stated without any emotion, “Those of us who were here 40 minutes ago enjoyed eating Yum Yai. What you see here is what is left.” She was noticeably pissed but kept her mouth shut. We finished the meal and headed home. AGAIN I secretly wished that she would get lost on the way, but no – it was not to be. She found her way back to the house and on the evening I turned 40, I almost got sent to prison for murder.

P.C.H.A. – Part IV

Like the acronym in the title? It’s just way too much to type out, especially since this is becoming a novel. So without further ado….

I mentioned in an earlier post that my parents are devout M*ormons. This means there is not alcohol in the house. This also means that although there is an over-abundance of Pepsi there is also no coffee. When I am home, I make my daily trek to McDonald’s for my cup of Joe. It’s about a 1/2 mile walk & one that usually I enjoy. On this particular morning I walked with hot tears streaming down my cheeks. How dare my mother take my sister’s side. Feelings of betrayal and sadness surfaced. This was not the first time something like this had happened, but because I have a quicker wit and a sharper tongue I am perceived as the villain.

Ok – tangent, but one that I think will illustrate the nature of my relationship with my sister growing up. When I was 11 we moved to Scotland for a year. Why? Well my father wanted to find his “roots” and why not take us along for the ride. He got a job at the University of Edinburgh, we packed our things and headed for Great Britain. We left Hawaii on my 11th birthday, and arrived at our rental house in falling snow (which we had never seen). For the next year we traveled the country visiting relatives and learning about Scottish history. One of the excursions was a trip to the northernmost part of Scotland; The Isle of Skye. To get there we took a train for about 8 hours, then rented a car. Back when I was 11 there weren’t seat belt laws. The car would have comfortably sat 4 people with seat belts, but we put all 4 kids across the back seat. The drive wasn’t particularly interesting, with rolling hills and a LOT of sheep. My sister, in an effort to liven the mood punched me in the stomach and immediately screamed as if she was the one who had been hit. The General, without hesitation turned and smacked me. How she was always able to reach us regardless of where we were sitting will always be a mystery, but the woman could hone in and lay the smack down before you even had a chance to flinch. So there I sat, now having been hit twice and I had NO IDEA why. I said something to the General and then suddenly the Pansy reached behind his seat and cuffed me on the leg, chastising me because I had talked back to the General. Are you following? I was still in a daze. I turned to my sister who was brimming with pride and mouthed, “NOW YOU ARE REALLY GOING TO GET IT”, as I wound up and let my fist hit her in the gut so hard it knocked the wind out of her. The General ordered the car to the side of the road where I was told to get out and walk. I watched as they drove off over the rolling hills and for 2 hours I walked, wondering if they would ever return. Years later in therapy I recounted this story in front of the General. Her reply to the therapist, “She asked for it.” The therapists rebuttal? “That was child abuse.” Oh good times, but it made for a story – 11 years old and walking for 2 hours in a foreign country. Who else can say they have done that?

So you see how it would go down. The sister would antagonize in secret. I would retaliate in the open and then I would be punished. It’s been this way as long as I can remember and to this day my parents still fail to notice, or so I thought.

I called my gf  D on my walk to McDonald’s. I recounted the events to her through my tears and she did her best to comfort me from 3000 miles away. Talking to her helped to calm me and by the time I had my coffee in hand I felt ready to return to the house. No sooner had I walked in the door the General wanted me to sit down and talk about it. I tried to protest, but it was in vain. I said they wouldn’t want to hear what I had to say and that I was still too upset. Didn’t matter – the General wanted to talk so we were going to talk. I did my best to explain why I was so upset. My sister continued to attack and it started getting very ugly. There was a point in the argument when our faces were inches from each other. I seriously thought it was going to get physical. I don’t remember everything that was said but I do remember one particular exchange. Sister: “Are you saying I’m not a good mother?” Me: “There’s nothing to compare. A mother raises their children, all you did was give birth.” I didn’t hold back AT all. I know my words cut her to the core, but I didn’t care. She needed to hear it and I was sick of people pussy footing around the fact that she has abandoned 4 children for her drug addiction. This time it was my sister who stormed off.

A few hours later, I started to feel the need to be the peacemaker. I walked into the laundry room where my sister was rinsing clothes. I asked if we could have a truce. Without looking up she said, “Say what you need to say.” I said, “I just wanted to tell you I am sorry for yelling at you.” Then for good measure I added, “I’m not sorry for what I said, but I am sorry for yelling.” Nothing like the one-two punch. I was sincere though, and like I said earlier, she needed to hear it.

We decided to take the kids to a movie and play at the mall. We loaded up and left my nieces waiting for my sister to be ready. I feel for her girls. I don’t know what it would be like to have the person you call mom constantly under the influence of some mind or physically altering substance. It’s sad that they know the difference between high and sober. It’s disturbing that they even know how to deal with her when she is “out of it”. I have watched them grow and develop into beautiful people while my sister has chosen to constantly invalidate their worth through her choices. They are a big reason that I wanted to raise A too. I wanted her to know her amazing older sisters.

Each time we left to do something as a family the girls would stay behind and wait for my sister to get ready. On average they would arrive an hour later, with my sister in tow. Sometimes they would arrive and my sister would still be in the car “finishing her makeup”. It was annoying. I wanted to be with them and they were having to spend a significant amount of time “babysitting”. On this particular day, they arrived at the mall and my sister had already disappeared. The movie didn’t start for a few hours so we took the kids to play glow in the dark miniature golf. Talk about FUN! The entire room was lit with black lights, as well as each of the holes, the putters and even the balls. The kids had a great time. We finished and still could not locate my sister, so my niece took the kids to this giant room full of bounce houses (all of this was in the mall by the way), and wore them out while the General and I went to Borders to browse books. My poor dad finally found my sister who claimed she had run into some drug dealers “old friends”. We gathered the crew and since we had now missed the movie, we headed to one of our family’s favorite restaurants for dinner.

The restaurant was five minutes from the mall, and yet my nieces walked in without my sister. She was sitting in the car doing who knows what – and it lasted 30 minutes. We had ordered food and it had already arrived when she sauntered in acting like she was late because her phone kept ringing. I noticed that anywhere we went my sister would talk as if she was so important. She would constantly run into people she knew or become occupied on her phone because she HAD to take the phone call. I also noticed the stress it placed on the girls to have to constantly keep track of her. They would banter back and forth, “You get her”, “No, you get her”, “I got her last time”. SAD. During the meal my sister was openly rude to the General, who let it slide for the sake of having a nice meal together. I secretly wished that we would lose her on the way home.

There were bright moments that day. In addition to glow in the dark mini golf and bounce houses, I absolutely loved watching my children interact with my parents. I didn’t grow up in the most attentive or loving environment, but my children are. My parents LOVE them, and the kids know it. They have them wrapped around their fingers. Watching my mother beam with pride because my children love to eat Chinese food made me smile big. She actually had to order more food that evening and I thought she was going to burst at the seams. I think that’s a Hawaiian thing – food = love and my kids sure were putting away the love that night. We enjoyed all of our traditional favorites; pork hash with salted duck egg, gau gee, choy sum with oyster sauce. I’m salivating just remembering it.

Day 2 came to an end much calmer than it had started. I had hope for Day 3. After all, it was going to be December 28th and my birthday – the day I would turn 40.

This Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual inspired by SouleMama.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’
in the comments for all to find and see.

Post Christmas Hawaiian Adventure – Part III

Each time I visit my parents I assume the same role as the time before. To the General I become her house cleaner of all things the cleaning lady doesn’t do, her organizer, her fixer of things she hasn’t ever gotten to, her school classroom cleaner, and her assistant grader (she teaches High School English and Debate). To the Pansy I become his personal IT consultant (he has a home office and works out of it). I used to resent it, but with age and wisdom came understanding and now I look forward to being able to help where I can.

On this particular morning, I ventured downstairs with my children to make breakfast. I figured my sister had been out late (3-4 am) the night before so she would sleep until at least noon. This would give me time to further strategize (as if a strategy was even effective in this situation). I saw her on the living room couch and asked the Pansy if he could have her move upstairs or to a bedroom so we could function on the main floor. He agreed but wanted me to come and look at his computer first (now you know why I wrote the first paragraph). System failure? Blue screen of death? In need of a defrag or a hard restore? NO. “Ky, see this right here (pointing to the screen of his ultra souped up MAC desktop that I drool over every time)? “I need to attach it to an email to my publisher.” OMG. Dude is writing a book with a colleague of his about this über scientific process for Executive Business Success. They even have created a new unique scientific formula and it’s not something simple either. His publisher had sent the final draft for edits which he had made and needed to return, attached. I don’t even use a MAC and had it attached, even typed the response he dictated and sent it off within about 10 minutes. It would have taken 1 minute but the other 9 minutes were spent in a tutorial that I knew wouldn’t matter later because I might as well have been speaking Greek to him – hell, he probably would have understood Greek better. In the end I was again the super smart daughter who is the end all know all about his computer issues. Feels good to be a hero sometimes.

From the kitchen I heard my sister’s voice. There was that pit in my stomach again and the heart palpitations. She had woken up and was already engaged in conversation with both of my children. THAT was not part of my strategy. See, I was going to be there when she saw A. I was going to be the buffer, the MOTHER, the protector of my emotionally fragile daughter. MY daughter. I already felt 5 steps behind and it had only been 5 minutes. I walked into the kitchen where I encountered A in my sister’s arms. She was carrying her around. Now A knows that my sister carried her. We even refer to her as “Mommy Liza” (a mistake I made in starting and something that has since ceased since this trip and after reading all of the parts you will understand why). She knows she came out of her belly, just like J knows he came out of mine. Other than that, she doesn’t have any kind of tie to her. They don’t talk on the phone, my sister doesn’t write, and like I said in Part I, the last time my sister saw A, she was 2 and it was at her rehab facility for 20 minutes.

I started having conversations with myself (in my head). This was part of my strategy. “This is normal”. “You’d want to pick up your child too”. “Cut her some slack.” BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. Five minutes later, which felt like an eternity I made up something for A to do. “A, can you go and get Ema’s newspaper from the driveway for her?” “Sure!”, she says and jumps down onto the ground to head for the door. My sister says, “Baby, do you need me to go with you?” “Yes.”, A replies, to which my self-talk started to coincide with eye rolling and the physical biting of my lip. My annoyance meter was rising and rising fast. So off they went, hand in hand to the driveway to fetch the paper. I stayed quiet. I forced my controlling self to let it happen. When they returned the physical interaction didn’t change. My sister kept a hand, or both hands, or sometimes what appeared to be her entire body on A. On a scale of 1-10 my anxiety was at about an 11, but I still kept it inside.

My parents are devout Morm*ons. They read from their scriptures daily. When you visit my parents you read daily with them too. PERIOD. I don’t fight it. That morning at the usual time we all assembled in the living room to read. I purposely placed A to the left of me and J to the right, knowing that I was going to have to parent them to some degree. My children and I don’t affiliate to any organized religion and I’m sure there were going to be questions, and restless moments (like the one earlier when the General said the word blessings and J responded, “Blessings? what are Blessings?” and the look from the General to me could have turned me into a pile of ashes).

My sister who was not even an arm’s length away says, “Can I sit here next to A?” “Sure, I said, as long as you aren’t distracting.” She gives me a look like I’m the one on drugs and sits down. Not even 3 minutes into the study, which I need to note was done almost exclusively on I-Phon*es (both parents, both nieces AND MY SISTER – although I think she was online or talking to her supplier). I had the only actual book, which felt very foreign in my hands. I digress.  Okay, so not even 3 minutes into the study my sister begins to play with A’s hair, stroke her arms and fingers and then starts to whisper into her ear. Anxiety meter…11,12,13,14,15…I made sure I heard EVERYTHING. “Oh, is that a boo boo on your finger?” “Mommy will fix that for you after.” “Mommy will get you a band-aid.” “Did you know Mommy is going to school to be a nurse.” Followed by audible choking from me. Out of respect for my parents I stayed silent. Anxiety meter…16,17,18,19…as soon as we ended I turned to her and said, “I realize that this is a big deal to you. I get that and I understand, but unless you learn some boundaries you are hurting A more than you are helping her.” Again, the look like I was on drugs. I explained that I was not comfortable with her touching A constantly, and that most of all, she IS NOT A’s MOTHER. Well, I might as well have slapped the bitch in the face because her reaction was to come out verbally swinging and we began to argue, mind you with my parents, both children, and both nieces sitting there. The General says to me, “You need to calm down”. Instant tears filled my eyes. Tears so hot and stinging I could have sworn they were 200 degrees farenheit. I was not going to lose it in front of everyone. Anxiety meter…20, 21, 22, 23…OVERLOAD. I stood up and walked right out the front door, but only after I turned and said to the General and my sister, “F*UCK yourselves”, and slammed the door so hard I think it registered on the Richter scale.

I needed a new strategy.

Post Christmas Hawaiian Adventure – Part II

Driving home from the airport is one of my favorite things to do. Not only does it mean I am home, but even in the dark the familiarity of my island is very comforting to me. I have traveled the two lane highway so often that I can close my eyes and know exactly where I am and which way the road will curve. I also love to roll the window down and feel the warm salty air on my face. When we cross through the Koolau Mountains there is a breathtaking view of the ocean and valley. That’s when it becomes very real that I am home.

My family lives in a small town just over an hour away from Honolulu. Interestingly enough, it only takes just over an hour to get to the opposite side of the island. That puts in perspective how small a geographical space I come from. Unlike the Mainland, the only neighbor to Hawaii is the vast Pacific Ocean. The drive from the airport always seems longer, and was especially so after 15 hours of traveling and the anticipation of seeing my sister and what might unfold.

We pulled into the driveway and unloaded the car. My niece Amanda came out to greet us. I should probably take a few minutes to explain that my sister has a total of 4 children. None of them are in her custody. Her oldest are nearly 22 and 17 and were born when she was married and living in Utah. I raised those girls until they were 5 and 10 respectively and then the moved to Hawaii. My parents have been their legal guardians pretty much since that time. Alix, the oldest is a senior in college and was also home to visit for the holidays. Amanda is a Junior in high school. A is the third child, and then my sister had a son, Joshua who is 4. He lives with his birth father who has not touched drugs since he was born.

Ok, so Amanda came out to greet us and after long hugs for myself and the kids she told my parents that her mother and Alix had gotten into a major fight and both had left the house. I mentioned Alix is in college. She is at a very elite college on a full ride scholarship. The girl is amazing, and wonderful, and NOTHING like her mother. THANK GOD. They had been arguing because Alix does not like her mother’s choices and she is no longer a little girl and is not afraid to make her thoughts known. My sister has no accountability and half a brain, so you can imagine how that went over. Needless to say they were both gone and I had mixed emotions. I hurt for Alix because I know the pain all too well, and because Alix and I are very close. I guess that happens when you take your niece from her parents at 2 weeks of age because you walk in on them doing drugs with her in their presence. You can’t help but bond with a child when you yourself are barely 18, living in an apartment and the babies first bed is a pillow and you don’t know what the hell you are doing. You basically exist on love.

The other part of me almost felt relieved. My sister wouldn’t be there to greet us. I wouldn’t have to go through the awkward hugs and my children looking at her wide-eyed after an exhausting day. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief, took in my bags, fed my kids, bathed them and we went upstairs to bed.

Just as my eyes were closing I heard someone on the stairs. My heart jumped and as my eyes adjusted I realized that it was Alix, who had returned home. Gentle, sweet Alix. She crawled in the bed next to me and I gave her a big hug. She then kissed each of the sleeping kids on the forehead. We spoke for a few minutes quickly catching up. She had gone to visit a friend, knowing that her only option when fighting with her mother was to walk away for a while. I asked if her mother was back and she said, “No”, and went to bed.

I drifted off to sleep, listening to the ocean in the distance (the house is about 100 yards from the beach). It was nice to be in underwear and a t-shirt with nothing but a sheet. Especially since we had left Utah in sub-zero temperatures. I had probably been asleep for a good two hours when I felt a presence in the room. I opened my eyes to find my sister standing next to the beds where we were sleeping. I was so tired I didn’t really have the energy to say much more than hello. She walked over to where A was sleeping and knelt down next to her. She then began to examine her from head to toe, analyzing every tiny detail of her little body. She stroked her hair, touched her face, her arms and legs and even her toes looking for anything that resembled the baby she carried. I kept calm, understanding that this was a woman who had lost a child at birth and who despite her choices still had love for that child. Being adopted myself I understand that more than the average person. I allowed her to stay there for a few minutes and then politely told her we needed to sleep. Thank God A didn’t wake up, which was a miracle. After several more attempts to tell her that we needed to sleep she finally stumbled down the stairs.

It took me several hours to get back to sleep. My mind was racing with thoughts of what the next day would bring. Finally I fell into a deep sleep, and woke up to the familiar sounds of wild chickens and roosters in the yard. I waited for the kids to wake up, got them dressed and we ventured downstairs. It was the beginning of day 2 in Hawaii. December 27, 2010 and had I known what would occur that day I would have just stayed in bed.

 

Post Christmas Hawaiian Adventure – Part I

I know it’s the middle of February, but our trip to Hawaii was far too adventurous to not recap. It’s also a pretty long story when I tell every piece of it so I’m going to break it into parts. This way I can really tell it like it happened because this story does not deserve to be summarized.

Last Summer the General (my mother for new readers) wanted to take the kids to Disneyland for Christmas. I said yes with my mouth but in my head I was thinking, “NO WAY IN HELL”. The LAST place I wanted to spend my precious vacation time was in Disneyland with tens of thousands of other people. On top of that, the General  hasn’t been well and I just didn’t think that if was the best place for her. I am so used to saying yes regardless of how I feel inside. It’s something I’ve done with the General for my entire life. It just makes life easier. She is after all, the General and I am but one of her Soldiers.

Fast forward a few months and I’m having a conversation with the Pansy (my father). He asks if I really want to go to Disneyland. I tell him I really don’t want to go, and list all of my reasons. See I can tell the Pansy how I feel cause that’s what I’ve done my whole life. See how it works? Dysfunction at it’s finest people. Well he tells me he feels the same way and I decide to be the brave one and agree to talk to her. I spent a few days deliberating and picked up the phone to call.

Now the General has softened quite a bit since my life changing experience last Summer. I think it was a wake up call for all of us and I had already had a few conversations that would have passed for genuine mother/daughter talk. I asked her what her objective was for the family trip. She said all she cared about was spending time with me and the kids. That set up the perfect moment to say, “Ok, well then why don’t we come to Hawaii and see you there.” She bought it on the spot. She even paid for the tickets.

We woke up at 4am on December 26th to prepare for our 7am flight to Phoenix, followed by a flight to Kona, followed by a flight to Honolulu. It was a looooooong day. We arrived in Hawaii at 7:30pm, which made for 15 hours of travel. The kids were awesome and traveled well considering their age and the length of time it took to get there. I also realized that one can never pack enough snacks when traveling with children.

We arrived in Honolulu and were met by my parents who the kids refer to as Ema and Pops. There were lots of hugs, we got our bags and headed to the car. On the way the General informs me that my sister is at the house and has been for 2 days. If you have followed my blog you know that I adopted A from my sister, who is a drug addict. She never had custody of A, and has only seen her once since I adopted her (when A was 2). I immediately had heart palpitations and my hands got sweaty. The General tells me, “Now Kyla you know your sister is not in her right mind (duh mom), so please don’t get mad when you are there.” I nod, because that is what I do, but I also add, “I will do my best to be calm but I will protect my children from her if she is high. The look on the General’s face told me that I would be protecting my children. She went on to tell me that usually my sister doesn’t stay more than a day or two because she starts needing more drugs. I was relieved to hear that because she had already been there for two days. Did that mean she would already be gone or leave in the morning? I’ll get there in Part II.

This Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual inspired by SouleMama.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’
in the comments for all to find and see.

A few of the people I call FAMILY

 

Girlie Parts – Checked!

Am I the only one who really does not look forward to the annual checking of my nether regions? Maybe that’s why I go every other year. I am just not a fan of the entire procedure and now that I’m 40 I get to add mammograms to the exam. LUCKY ME!!! I am happy to report that I did go, and it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I have a fabulous Gyno and she doesn’t just play doctor, she is also very kind and perceptive and makes sure she takes the time to ask about the kids and my life. She was my OB, but stopped delivering babies in 2008. Such a shame because she is awesome.

So, I’m good for at least another year and maybe two. If you haven’t gone, go! It’s worth knowing that your girlie parts are working the way they should!