When the mundane grounds you...

It was a spur of the moment kind of outing. The day was gorgeous and the girls were adventurous.

I wasn't feeling too spritely but I went with it... for the sake of the girls. 

Too much crap in my head and too little time to sort though 'some' of it. 

The beach just seemed like a positive choice in spite of my blah-ness. 

While the older two frolicked in the water, my little one stayed close to me.  

She didn't care too much about water play plus the warm sun felt nice on our backs.  

She hated the sand. "Yucky sand, mama!" she said.

I sat back and watched and captured the tiny moments that sometimes escape us.  

Beads of sand tucking themselves between tiny fingers.  The thought made me smile. 

A small moment that made me happy.  

I offered her raspberries.    

The delight on her face reminded me of how lucky I am to be her mother.

Depression isn't always a 'pretty' word because 

the stigma that attaches itself to it seems bigger than the issue itself.  It is what it is.  

There are good days, bad days, awful days, slow days, 

happy days and seemingly normal days. 

It is what it is.  

The sand on their toes made them giggle. The wind in their faces made them glow even more.  

The sight of all this was medicine to my soul.  

The wonder of their childhood brings me peace and allows me to heal in strange ways.  

Sometimes the healing hurts even more than the memory 

but other times it exhales this sort of relief that I cannot articulate.  

Do you follow? 

The connection of sisters.  They will have each other, always.  

I can only wish that no matter what they may experience in their lifetime 

that they'll always turn to each other and hold one another up 

with love and appreciation for the simple fact that they are sisters.  

In my heart, I am an only child but I have cultivated parts of me through others that care.

She made herself a sand scrub for her legs.  I thought this clever and resourceful of her. 

I love that smile... 

I don't know what she's thinking but I'm thinking that there is no other place I'd rather be than right here with them soaking up the sun and being free and breathing easily.  

Each day I'm handed a gift to breathe and be in this life.  

My daughter was handing me her miniature shells she had just combed from the shoreline.  

The simple joy of something so mundane grounded me, once again.  

Many times I float away and get carried off in thoughts that sometimes consume my being 

and don't allow me to treasure these small moments.  These are the moments that count.  

These are the moments that remind me that no matter what is ruminating in my overactive mind, 

there is peace and magic and solace in the mundane.  

I may get caught up in my own troubles and roller coaster highs and lows 

but I don't want to ever lose sight of this.  

This life.  This moment.  This gift.  This time.  

I am always grateful for this chance to be peace and love and wonder 

at the very edge of the earth, with my daughters. 

Confessions of an evil sister or why age difference is irrelevant

I have a younger sister.  Two, actually but I’m speaking of the one born after me.  She and I are six years, two months and 1 day apart.  

The first thing I thought of her when she was born was, ‘Her head is bigger than mine!’ and that she looked Asian (not that Asian babies aren’t adorable.)  As we grew up and she became increasingly annoying, I found myself committing some really evil pranks on her, you know, just to mess with her.

I was mean.  No.  Like.  Really.  Really.  Mean.  I used to revel in watching her get grossed out and vomit after I'd run my saliva filled index finger under her nose.  Once it dried, that’s all she’d smell.  Nasty old saliva and I’d practically piss in my pants from the laughter.  I was seven and she was two.  Awful! 

Another time I asked her to let me see her cavities and quickly took her open mouth opportunity to ‘hauck a loogie’ right into it.  She threw up.  The grossest thing I’ve ever done.  Seriously.

When she was six, I told her that the ‘Bride of Chucky’ would be visiting her at night because she liked her shoes.  The look on her face was f**cking priceless!

I’d say the ‘meanest’ moment was when I coaxed her into letting me cut her hair in to layers with my school scissors.  I wanted to practice artistry with her hair.  I DID promise to give her any one of my ‘New Kids on the Block’ wall poster’s (yes, I was one of those silly 13 year old girls squealing over Donnie.)  My hair cutting skills needed major improvement and then I changed my mind about giving her that poster after all.  She wore a hat to school the next day to cover up my 'artistry.'  Awful! 

I guess I really enjoyed the fact that I was six years two months and one day older than her.  My mom never knew about most of the pranks because even if she went to ‘tattletale’, I’d always come back with, “She’s lying, mom!”  Terrible, terrible me. 

My three sweet daughters are all relatively close in age.  The first two are twenty months apart and the last two are almost three years apart.  I figured that the closer they were in age, the less they’d harass one another.  Puh-leeze! I was SO wrong! Age is totally irrelevant here.  They taunt and tease each other just the same.  So.  Annoying.  Ugh.

I’m REALLY hoping that my daughters don’t get ridiculously creative with pranks against one another like I did to my poor little sister.  My sister and I STILL talk about the crap I did to her. 

No, I’m not proud of my ‘evil’ sister pranks but they definitely bring on a great chuckle every now and again.  I hope that my ‘slightly evil’ side didn’t get transmitted to my daughters while in utero.  In any event, my daughters have some pretty large ‘evil’ shoes to fill!

I love my sister.  Always have and always will…

My sister and me, circa 2000 ♥

Sisters sharing {sketching}

We took a field trip to an outdoor mall in West Palm Beach.  My husband works in the area twice a week and for over a month now, I've been lending my car to my mother.  Her car died and she's saving up for a new one.  In the meantime, I do what I can to help her.  It's what daughters do (I guess).

My daughters, on the other hand, had a pretty cool day.  We went to Barnes and Noble and I read aloud six book to them (I love love love Mo Willems and his crazy pigeon).  Sabrina read Fancy Nancy.  Then they counted all the stuffed animals on the shelves, lined them up for a performance and later pretended that they lived during the ice age by escaping the giant dinosaurs and hiding under the Thomas the Tank Engine train table.  They used their resources, that's all that matters.

But the best part of the day for me was watching the two bigger sisters share a bench and sketch in their new 'scratch books'.  A book that has black coated pages and glitter beneath each page as they 'scratch' designs or pictures with a wooden pencil 'tool'.  So amusing for them! Sabrina naturally drew her own pictures.  Luna decided to copy all the names of the stores around her in the open terrace we were in.  Kalina slept soundly in her stroller (thank goodness!)

Two sisters share sketching time (quietly, for once).

One sister peeks over...Hmmm....what's she drawing??

One mama revels in the simple beauty of her daughters sharing a moment...lovely

It was a great day.

Sisters...

My four maternal sisters at my wedding 2003
(left to right)
Melissa, Michelle, Me, Carie & Mercy

I have three Daughters.  Yes, THREE Daughters!  And, so?  Um-hm! Oh please tell us, Vanessa, what does that mean?  Three Daughters basically means that I have three of everything to deal with.  Three times the whining.  Three times the bickering.  Three times the, Mom! (So and So) touched me!, Mom! (So and So) looked at me!, Mom! (So and So) put a booger in my hair! Three times the girly-girl, life is coming to a stand still, hold the phone, what just happened?, DRAMA.  Period.

Daughters are lovely, and sweet and adorable and all but they are also SO very emotionally draining.  When they're not arguing in the background of my husband and I trying to watch a flick, they're whacking each other over the head because someone tore the head off the other's Polly Pocket.

The dynamic of three little girls is nothing less than, Oh my fucking goodness! What the hell did I get into?!  Seriously, I feel like this often because it's almost surreal to witness the amount of high intensity and sheer panic these little darlings emit in less than twenty seconds flat! UNREAL!

Okay, okay, all the drama aside, these three little girls of mine are true Sisters.  It's the law of Sisters, I suppose.  You know, to fight, to argue, to yell at to then make up, laugh again, hug each other and love one another no matter what.  It's what they do.  It's how they live with one another.  It's how they love each other day after day in spite of the bickering and yelling and the tearing off of each others Polly Pocket doll heads.  I get it.

I have Sisters.  I have MANY Sisters.  I have four Sisters on my Mother's side and two Sisters on my Father's side.  Yes, you read that correctly, no lie.  Please, do explain, Vanessa... 

Well, it goes a little like this:  My Mother had two gorgeous little girls before me (I'm Daughter #3 on my Mom's side).  But I was Daughter #1 on my Father's side.  Follow?  So my Mother had me (her #3) and then another Daughter (her #4) and then another Daughter (her #5).  That covers Mom!

After I was born and my parents divorced, my Father went on to have a Son (his #2) and a Daughter (his #3) with his second marriage.  Then he got divorced (AGAIN), re-married and had two more after that, a Son (his #4) and a Daughter (his #5).  Did I lose you, because I may have lost my train of thought already?! But this is about Sisters! Okay, so, as I was saying...Basically, I'm the only child between my Mother and Father.  Here comes the BUT...But I have a relationship with at least four of the six Sisters I have.  Gee, isn't that nice! 

It's a little complicated because not all of them live in the same city or State as me.  Having so many siblings from different Fathers and Mothers makes things a little wacky, nevertheless.  I obviously wasn't raised with all of them (especially my Mother's first two) but that's a whole other story.  I was raised with my Mother's #4 and partially with her #5 (until she was two years old).  I never really felt like I had a real sibling because we never shared the same Father.  It's kind of a big deal having the same Mom but not the same Dad because there are so many disparities between the siblings.  It's difficult to explain.

In any case, having so many Sisters is interesting but difficult at the same time.  Why difficult?  If it were up to me, I would have extremely close relationships with ALL of them.  I've tried and I've failed miserably.  I would want to share my entire life with them without any emotional barriers.  The fact is, we all come with our own set of traumas and issues and bias'.  It's what comes with being partly related as Sisters.  I want to feel like I can count on any of them.  I probably feel like I can partly count on one or two of them, if that.  I love them all.  I miss them all and I wish that I could simply be a true Sister just like my own Daughters are with each other.

In the meantime, I'll continue to work on the relationships I have with the ones that try to have one with me.  I will always be open to the others because I have nothing keep and everything to share...

To all of my Sisters (M, M, C, M, L, A), I love you, I'm here and I will always be...

Openly,
Vanessa 


A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.- 
Isadora James~