A New Day

Hope is reviving.

A vibrant spirit fills the air. Today is a new day. Today is historic.

We are shifting into a conscious realm where equality becomes a hope for all people. Just like Obama said in his election speech last night, regardless of party affiliation, sex, age, race, gay, straight, or disability, we are here today. We are more united than ever because for the first time in our history, we have chosen someone based on merit rather than power. It truly feels like a new country.

A country that for so long has oppressed the powerless. A country rich in propaganda tactics utilized to enforce its military presence. A country that claimed it was united but always felt divided. A country where the rich and homogenous have ruled.

But not today.

Today we breathe a new sense of hope. It's a victory across the world because we are evolving as people. We are aware of our impact on this earth. Equality is within reach for many of us.

I now feel that the day will come much sooner than later when I can marry. A day where women will earn just as much as men. A day where we work together in collaboration rather than sit back in self-absorbtion. A day where we can start to erase the line between majority and minority.

It's epic. It's history. It's a new hope.

Today we are. We're here.

It is a new day.

Passion

Times, they are a changin'.

As the change keeps coming, the harder it is to see sometimes. Who you are versus who you used to be. Where you're going versus where you want to be. What you're doing versus what you want to do.

For going on 7 years, I've lived a passionate life as an educator. I've had some bumps and bruises along the road, but not until now have I felt so burned out. The candle won't light up. The umpfh is missing. Sure, I felt a lot of things the year my dad died, but this year, I feel extremely overwhelmed. Not just by work. But by the desire to be free. To claim who I am and who I share my life with and not fear what might happen for saying it out loud.

I think back to a not far ago time when the world seemed to be within my grasp. Being 21 and traveling the world. The craziest thing is that when I lived in Argentina, it was probably one of the happiest times in my life. Happy because I was carefree. I felt the passion, and even though I hit a hard road that spiraled downward, I also had a lot of peace. I always wanted to be the "professional" student and traveler. I've felt like dropping everything and moving to a remote area.

To breathe and take in life. Yes, people that do that seem to create a oneness, or inner peace if you will. To many people, the avid traveler seems to be running away from something. I just think they're running to the light. Their inner light. They live the passion that burns inside. I think I could do that.

I would love nothing more than for Marco and me to just up and move. Live abroad for a year or two. Just live and be free of the demands.

Yea, it's my fantasy, but is it too far fetched? Is it unattainable? My recent situation with my homeowners association and the battle to right a wrong might dictate it's not a good time. Or the recent failings in the stock market might also have a say in it. My goodness, I've been thinking a lot about my investments. Then I've entertained the thought of going into counseling, which means grad school. I've even looked into volunteering for a gay youth organization, a cause that I strongly believe in. But then most of my time out of work is dedicated to volunteering to save my investment in my home.

Regardless of the current state of matters, I'm drained. I want, need and dream of dropping everything to follow my heart. God, I feel I need this more than I've ever needed it before. I just want to breathe.

Marco and me....just laying on the beach or drinking wine in South America, Europe or Africa. Time to check my oil and rekindle the light that keeps the candle burning.

Argentina revisited

Ten years ago and one year later. It's been 10 years since I was a naive exchange student living in Buenos Aires, searching for my own identity. A time of a high spiritual presence, yet vulnerability. A time in which I got lost.

Then a year ago, I revisited my path in Buenos Aires for the first time since living there in 1998. It was a true spiritual journey, an awakening of sorts, vengence, and picking my heart back up off where I last left it. This is what I wrote a year ago from my visit back to Argentina. It's hard to believe it's already been a year!

Friday, July 20, 2007

Lipstick, a napkin and my phone number Current mood: hopeful Thanks to Kent and Andrea...and Bianca for reading these. This one will be short because today, to be honest, was tough. Again, a long day of walking. The day started off with a call from Marco around 1015 Bs.As. time. I was still in bed, but it was great to hear his voice! Being in a city as big as Bs.As., which is bigger than NYC, and doing it alone, can be a bit lonely at times. I headed out the door with one thing in mind. Recoleta. It´s hip. It´s posh. It´s got money and lots of great eating and shopping. It also has the famous cemetary where Evita is buried. But I went for the cemetary and the food. And my history there. Walking past Isabel´s house yesterday wasn´t hard. This was ten times more difficult. As I walked slowly up to the wall fencing in the cemetary, I found myself getting choked up. It was hitting me all over again, just like I was there in 1998. Ok, I´m sounding melodramatic, but I´m really not. This is how I felt. Why is that you wonder, damn this computer for not having a functioning question mark key! LOL Nine years ago I stood in the plaza in front of the Recoleta Cemetary singing for money. Not for fun. For desperation. That group that I was involved with through Isabel had me working with two people. Our goal was to have a break through with our biggest fear. For me, that was drawing attention to myself in public. This will make so much sense to so many people now that they hear this story. This group that I was selling myself to made me sing on the streets of Buenos Aires, and I had to earn $30 dollars. Any way I had to, it was expected to be done. Now they didn´t physically force me, but things were so crazy with them that I feared what was going to happen if I didn´t get the money. So I sang the only 2 songs I knew by heart, Somebody by Depeche Mode and Walls by Tom Petty. Of course, I sucked, and I hated every minute of it. I looked like a toothpick because these people wouldn´t let us eat during the ¨trainings¨. My clothes were literally falling off me. While I was singing, an American couple approached me and asked what was wrong. I had no idea what to say but to do anything to get money, and those who know me well know that I do not lie! Well, I told them I was robbed and had no money to get back to the States for Christmas so I could see my family. They asked how much I needed, and I told them how ever much. I was just scared shitless! They were reluctant, but they gave me $10 dollars. I then found out that they were from Dallas too! They wanted my parents´phone number so they could call to let them know I was struggling. The wife didn´t have paper or pen, but she pulled out a napkin and her lipstick. Surprised, I gave them the correct number. I never saw them again, but they came into play to save me later. I eventually made the $30 to please the group. After that, I knew I had to get out somehow. I eventually made it home for the holidays, expected to recruit my family members and fulfill homework assignments for the new age group. While I was home, the man who saw me called and told my mom what he witnessed. I´ll never forget it. I came home from the movies that night, and my family intervened and took my passport away. I never returned to Argentina. I never got to fulfill my goal of living hear the whole year. So that´s the gist of the what happened. Now back to today. I arrived and felt the lump in my throat. I had to fight back the tears. I´m so different now...no longer vulnerable, naive or in fear. But this was a moment that changed my life. This is where I lost my spirituality nearly 10 years ago. And I came to get it back! I sat on a bench near the area where I think I was singing, watching a gentleman sing across from me at that moment. After having enough, I got up and walked into the cemetary. I spent almost an hour, and once again, I came across Evita´s grave. Not as big as you would think, but I have the pictures. Well, this is much longer than I hoped for. But my dad always wanted me to use this information to help educate others. I guess that makes me a spiritual warrior. I gave up so much of myself, my spiritual self, because of this experience in the plaza. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I even refused to speak Spanish. But here I am. I´m stronger than that now, and I got my groove back! It took some lipstick, a napkin, my phone number, and years of enduring life altering events to get it back! But hell, I got it! Happy Friends Day! Chau!

I am revisiting this moment because it was a huge turning point in my life. Going back is something I'll never forget, and it's a moment that I cherish. Even today when I talk to friends about the experience.

And if you wonder what the rest of the journey was like, just take a look at this slice of heaven! Ushuaia, Argentina. The end of the world.

Here I am dog sledding. Amazing!

A view from the train to the end of the world.

But this was the moment worth the 9 year wait and first trip to the southern most city in the world. The Beagle Channel. It's mystical. Haunting. Historical. Beautiful. It's just heaven!

Angels on Earth

When I saw my brother Joey and his wife Amy last Sunday, we were sharing photos from our trip to Europe, drinking wine and laughing. Obviously, Amy wasn't sharing the wine since she was pregnant. We got to see the nursery and felt the excitement of the upcoming week. Baby Julien Joaquin Stevens would be born on Friday, August 1. Amy was more than ready to get the difficult pregnancy over and welcome her first child into the world. The gestational diabetes had taken a toll on her body, and she wasn't feeling very well.

Come Tuesday, she was going in for her final sonogram. Her doctor detected very high blood pressure and protein in her urine, both symptoms of preeclampsia, a potentially fatal disorder to both mother and son. They immediately went to the hospital for more tests. Fortunately, her blood pressure stabilized, and she didn't have preeclampsia. Instead, they suspected she had HELLP, which stands for Hemolyptic anemia, Elevated Liver enzymes, and Low Platelet count. Thankfully, doctors decided to hospitalize her that day and would induce Wednesday morning.

By Wednesday, they had given her a pill to soften the cervix, which caused her to go into labor without inducing. It seemed pretty good. However, they kept monitoring the baby, and the compications kept rising. His heart was overworking, so they did an emergency Caesarean section.

All was going well, and baby Julien was born healthy, immediately looking like his mom and favoring the latino in his blood. Instantly, I felt tears. Pride of being an uncle again. Having a new nephew. Happy for Joey and Amy. Happy for being there when he was born. I couldn't believe he was here, and he was born safely. I had worried about him.


However, Amy wasn't doing so well. She was in immense pain, and her skin was turning yellow. By that night, they discovered that her blood wasn't clotting like it should as a result of the c-section. Elation over the arrival of a newborn turned to an unsettling preoccupation over Amy's health. There was possibility of having to go back into surgery to repair the lack of clotting.

But first, they gave her plasma and blood transfusions to see if that would help. That evening, it appeared it had and surgery wouldn't be necessary. But the night was not kind to her. The pain increased. By morning, they decided she would need the surgery to help recover sooner. Meanwhile, during this whole time after giving birth, she hadn't been able to hold Julien due to her weak state. Sure, Mommy did "hold" him with the help of family, but unfortunately, Amy couldn't be alone with him because of her medication and state of health.


On Thursday morning, I received a call from Joey. They were going to take her into surgery at 2 pm. I took care of some errands at home, and then I headed up to Lewisville. She looked a little better, but you could still tell she wasn't feeling well. Just like the previous day, she was weak and doped up on meds.

When I got there, she was about to go into surgery. Thankfully, I got there in time despite the holdups with traffic. She was in the OR for a good hour and a half. During that time, I remained in the room with Edie, her mother, and Julien. I held him for an hour, rocking him as he slept.


If there's one thing about this calming and peaceful boy, it's that he has an amazing energy and spirit. He doesn't cry or fuss much. When you hold him, you feel as though an angel has descended from heaven and touched you. Everything about him, from his long fingers, small ears, full head of brown hair, to his long legs, feels angellic. I guess angels do exist on Earth.

Around 5:30 pm, Joey came back from the day surgery waiting room to let us know how things went. They found out that she had lost a liter of blood, which explains why her blood pressure dropped so much since the c-section. Thankfully they went in to correct the clotting problem, or else she would have eventually started to hemmorage. When she came out of recovery, it was like seeing a whole new person. She was already feeling better.

As of today, they're still having to give her more blood. She's become anemic. I can't wait for her to enjoy her beautiful just as the rest of us have already done. To even see her hold him and capture that moment in a picture will be beautiful! A moment where both parents can hold their son at the same time without having to worry as much as these past several days.

Snapping into reality after dreamland

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the number of moments that take our breath away. Anonymous


It's always nice to return to your own home, your own bed, and your pets after an extended vacation abroad. That's exactly how I was feeling as Marco and I finished up our 2 week venture in London and Paris last week. On the down side, being back is also a lot of work. Getting used to your schedule again. Catching or maintaining a cold as you travel back into your country. Getting pissed off at the many arrogant and stupid Americans in the market for thinking they're entitled to everything.

Yes. I again feel a sense of disgust for my own people. I do understand that not every American is like that. My friends are a great example of international courtesy and open mindedness. But the people I bump into, the relatives I am supposed to relate to, and the restaurants I eat at all exhibit the things I despise the most while living in this country. Eat as quickly as you can so your waiter can turn the table and make more money. Forget about the conversation or dining experience. Eat as quickly as you can, and don't even think about taking a walk down the sidewalk because it's unheard of. Just sit at home and put on the extra pounds.

Perhaps it sounds harsh and cruel, but there's a reality to it all. While in Paris, I watched that 25% of Americans are now overweight. That's an alarming statistic. Is that the American Dream?

Let me settle in and stop ranting about my country for a bit to enjoy the memories that my beautiful and amazing Marco and I shared while in Europe. Let me start by saying that my top ten list probably needs a little adjusting. The problem with doing sooo much on vacation is that you tend to forget, unless you journal every day. I normally would do that, but by the time our daily adventures came to a close, we were so worn out we needed a bed to crash on.

I would definitely add Greenwich, known for it's establishment for the east and west longitudinal lines and prime meridian, to my list. It's simple. History and science were made there. It's a place where the entire world changed at the discovery of one astronomer. I even had the chance to stand in both the east and west at the same time! So I can probably make this a tie with either number 9 or number 10 on my list. If you get technical and say that makes 11, then we can just remove Stratford and take it to number 11 instead.

The rest of my entry will tell it's own story in pictures and captions. Disfrutate.

Here I am standing in both the east and west along the prime meridian. Marco stayed back at the flat feeling sick :( Below shows the longitude of Buenos Aires and Montevideo.


Above: A view of an Oxford library. Below: William Shakespeare's birthplace in Stratford-Upon-Avon


Passing through a London tunnel during a Jack the Ripper tour. The picture turned out rather haunting. It was constantly raining all but one day while we were in London, which is why Stonehenge was a bit miserable, as shown below. We were soaking wet!

But we did find the time to enjoy a lot of things in London, including the Fairy dish liquid we found in our flat. We had to take pictures with it, of course.

Without a doubt, the best part of the trip was Paris. There was a sense of magic and fantasy mixed in with romance. It was particularly amazing to experience the Bastille firework display at the Eiffel Tower.

The presence of the magnificent tower was jaw dropping, as you can see above. However, ascending the tower did not exceed its breathtaking beauty from the ground. Hundreds of thousands of people, including ourselves, came out to enjoy the celebration.

You can see that many spirits showed up as well. All these orbs completely absorbed all my photos during the fireworks. But it was also a romantic occasion.


Waiting for us around every corner was a different story, and we found something very warm and calming about that, despite being in a large city. Something about Paris feels small. Notre Dame was a chance to explore a bit of history I've always dreamed about. Then the views of the Siene were just as spectacular.


The best was the art work found inside the heart of the Louvre and Musee d'Orsay. Seeing original Impressionism pieces felt like time had stopped.



But obviously, the true time stopper was the Louvre itself. From the outside-in, it dazzled my imagination and fantasy of past and present. What an amazing palace!


The lovely Venus de Milo below.

Someone did forget to mention the homo-eroticism involved at the Louvre.

Of course, the Da Vinci pieces weren't all that bad either!


Her eyes really do follow you from every angle! This was so cool, especially since my grandparents had a print of the Mona Lisa in their living room when I was growing up.


Some of the not to be missed moments came at the end of our stay in Paris, particularly L'Arc de Triomphe. Its views were more inspiring than those from the Eiffel Tower. Plus, we conveniently stayed in hotel a block away from the arch.


Of course, we couldn't leave the city without paying homage to the bohemian Moulin Rouge, located in the stunning Montmarte district.

The journey may have ended, but the memories remain in a cherished spot for both of us. It was romantic, exciting, exhausting, adventurous, and educational. I hope I have captured as much of London and Paris in writing as I did with my return to Buenos Aires and Ushuaia last year.

I cannot believe how much I've traveled in the last year. Revisiting Buenos Aires, seeing Ushuaia for the first time as well as Montevideo, then New York for New Years, and now London and Paris is a tremendous amount of traveling. Thankfully, I do it for pleasure and have a home to come back to.

The world is the best teacher. As I always say, cuando seas tu mismo el mundo es tuyo.

Au revoir Paris et Europa

Over a glass of French wine, a juicy steak, escargot, and a small coffee to settle the stomach, Marco and I sat and enjoyed our final meal in Paris. These past two weeks we've been traveling through London and Paris. And the topic of our conversation turned to our favorite moments during our first trip abroad as a couple. Coincidentally, dinner fell on the same date as the 18 month mark of our relationship.

To decide on favorite moments was equally difficult for both of us. However, there was on thing we agreed on....that Paris was, by far, better than London. It seemed that almost every passing day was better than the previous one while we've been here in the city of romance.

Because we are leaving tomorrow to head back to London and then leaving Saturday to return to the States, I'm going to keep this as short as I can and write about our journey after our return home. This trip has been full of highlights and lengthy days, which explains why I haven't been blogging as I had hoped. I've been exhausted, and recently, I caught a cold from Marco since we came to Paris on Monday.

But here's how I'd begin to create my list of best experiences on our vacation.

Without further due, and in the order in which I'd rank them.....

1. Musee du Louvre
I don't think I need to explain much here, but holy hell! I've never seen quite an amazing museum. The funny thing is that all three museums we visited (also Musee d'Orsay and The National Gallery in London) were amazing. But this one is special. History talks to you as you turn every corner. And the elaborate decoration of each statue on the outside makes time stand still. That's more than enough to put this at my #1 spot.

2. Bastille Celebration at the Eiffel Tower
Who would have known? The day we get into Paris is also a national holiday celebrating the Bastille and the liberation of France during the French Revolution. This was difficult to not put at the top, since we waited just below the tower for 6 hours for the most amazing firework display of mankind. Simply the best! My pictures are full of spiritual orbs. I mean FULL. I suppose the spirits of the fallen showed up to celebrate as well. There were at least 300,000 people out there, if not more! The French go all out with their fireworks!! Unfortunately, the ride up to the top of the Eiffel Tower the next day was not as good. A bit overrated.

3. Notre Dame
I must say that I expected this to be my favorite, since I've been waiting to see it for years, ever since studying its architectural beauty in college. But my cold may have interfered a little bit. We didn't go up to the towers as planned. Both of us felt under the weather. But despite all the tourists inside, there was an immense energy about the cathedral that added to it's stunning beauty. I felt calm and at peace. Plus, you could see more orbs from all the spirits hanging around.

4. L' Arc de Triomphe
The Bastille celebration at the Eiffel Tower had the jaw dropping extravaganza, but the view was a bit too much from atop the Eiffel Tower. Not the case with L' Arc de Triomphe. It was more eye pleasing, and you could actually spot more places than from the Eiffel Tower. The true beauty of Paris is never more present than from the roof of the arc. Breathtaking!

5. Westminster Abbey in London
This wasn't only about Paris, even though Paris lands a knockout victory over London overall. Westminster has so much to say for itself. The tomb of Queen Elizabeth I is obviously enough to draw you to see the Abbey. Also, the other tombs and memorials of many famous writers, actors and politicians, as well as the cloisters, will amaze you.

6. Bath, England
Granted, I was only there for a mere hour and a half, but it cannot go without being said that this is the most stunning city in England that I have seen. The Roman architecture will entice you, and instantly, you feel as though you're in Italy. I plan to go back and stay a few days.

7. Musee d'Orsay
The French really know how to make their museums. The Impressionist pieces of work here are jaw dropping. There's plenty to see, although the layout and map are a bit confusing.

8. National Gallery in London
This was my favorite museum until I came to France. Still, it has so much to offer for your visual enjoyment. So many striking pieces of art.

9. Stratford-Upon-Avon
If you can't meet the most famous writer in the world, then you must see his birthplace. Stratford, the home of William Shakespeare, is a quaint but lively little town near the Cotswolds. There's so much going on, and to see where he was born is historically uplifting.

10. Any view of the Siene River in Paris
From any bridge, you can enjoy the romantic points of Paris. The city may be enormous, but there is also a small atmosphere to it. This is where you fall in love with Paris, and it feels like the heart of the city.

That wasn't easy, but these are the top 10 highlights from our trip. We saw so much more, including Stonehenge (I bet you're wondering why it didn't make the top 10...weather's a bitch!), Oxford, a Jack the Ripper tour, Salisbury Cathedral, Montmarte, Houses of Parliament, The London Eye, etc. More will come soon, along with pictures.

Paternal instinct

Ahhh. A walk through Central Park with your loved ones. Marco and I holding hands while carrying our child. Move forward a year or two and imagine the same walk through the park. This time we're holding our child's hand as he or she walks on their own. That would be something. Something incredible. Something only a parent can know and experience.

That experience is something I long for.


Last Sunday, I saw the pure joy that my friends Lindsey and Matt felt when she gave birth to their son, Hayden. I loved and appreciated the tears that rolled down her face when they finally brought him into the suite for them to hold for the first time. The moment was picturesque, and it was truly beautiful to witness firsthand. I know she's going to make an amazing mother, and he's going to learn so much from both is parents.



I love being an uncle. And being a gay uncle is pretty incredible. I get to dote on my little nephews and nieces, either by family or the kids of my dearest friends. However, I don't think there would be anything more fulfilling than having a child of my own.

Today, I watched a show on Logo called Paternal Instinct, which details the journey of a New York gay couple as they bond with the surrogate mother. Several of the attempts failed, and she even had a miscarriage. The guys were feeling beaten down by it and contemplated giving up. Then, in their final attempt, she got pregnant. They had a beautiful baby girl, but they didn't stop there. The surrogate carried their second child, also a girl.


The program brought me to tears. One of the guys summed it up best when he said he supposed he could settle being the uncle and spoil his nieces and nephews or even the children of his closest straight friends. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that they potentially weren't going to be waking up at 3 am for feedings. But those were the things he wanted. He desired that experience as a parent.

After balling my eyes out, that's the same experience that I want. I spent my 20s just growing, not ever thinking too much about it, even though I've always felt this way. I had only hoped for a relationship. Now I'm in my 30s, and it's something that's on my mind a lot more. I don't care the sex of the child, but I want at least one. Probably two.


I believe I have a paternal instinct and would make a great father. I see the struggles the people of my culture go through to just adopt. Hell, in Texas, I can't even be a foster parent. I can't even stand by Marco's side in the hospital legally.

I hope for change, and I believe it will happen. I just don't know how long it will take.

Nephews and Frogs

I received a call from my sister in law last night wanting to talk to me about one of Shoobie's recent discoveries in the world. He found his first frog and managed to pick it up himself. Frogs hold a special place in my heart as well as in our family's.


When we were younger than 10 years old and still living in Irving on Dunning Circle, our house was like a playground for everyone on the street. Our small, 3 bedroom home sat at the very end of the street in the circle, directly opposite the entrance onto the street, which seemed miles away to me when I was only at the ages of 4-7.

Apart from being the popular home to hang out at, and having a trampoline I must add, we always searched for frogs in the alley behind our house with all our friends. We would collect them in buckets and bring them to our front yard, where we had lanes set up, usually 3 or 4. That many people would take a frog, set it on the ground, and when my brother would say go, we'd let the frog go and pound on the earth to make it jump to the finish line. In essence, we had frog races.

It's one of my fondest memories from my childhood. Seeing all the neighborhood kids gathered around for harmless fun and entertainment was special. As a result, I've always loved frogs.

So when Shoobie picked up his first frog, it seemed special. So special, in fact, that Jennifer called me to let me know. Why?

Shoobie named his frog Ichael.

Despite having a sty in my left eye, I couldn't help but laugh and smile when I heard that. There's something about my name that is intriguing. How I got my name is even more interesting.


My brother, Brian, Shoobie's dad, named me Michael because when Mom was pregnant with me, he wanted a black brother named Michael. When he asked for that and Mom couldn't deliver upon his wish, he asked for a black rabbit. To compensate for that, they let him name me Michael.

And now I have a special frog named after me...or is it after e, without the m?

Ironically, today is Shoobie's actual birthday. A frog-happy 3 years old!

The Catch 22 of Family

What is family? What does the word family mean? I know I love my family, but after 2000, I had to redefine what the word meant for me in my own life. It can't just be blood. I've had to create my own family out of my dearest friends.


But sometimes blood is thicker than water, right? Sometimes is the key word. I've had blood family stab me in the back like you wouldn't believe. So blood is not always family.

The best way I can resolve this question is case by case. Take my mom for example. She is family, but she has committed many mistakes. I forgive her for them, but the problem now lies in how to deal with her today.

I love my mom because she's done many great things. But I don't love being around her. In fact, I despise it more often than not. Not so much for her abandoning the family and leaving my dad when he was sick with cancer. Not as much any more for the illegal fraud she has committed with my name. I believe in my heart that I have forgiven her for those things. But do I trust her?

Not even close. Slowly, but surely, I'm working on that. I can't expect her to change much. She's bipolar and suicidal (although psychotic is the term she likes to use). I realized this past year that it would have to be my own undertaking to work on how I react to her in situations that would make the most difference in our relationship. Usually, I'm tempted to roll my eyes at the embarrassment of her inability to monitor her voice, her tongue, and even more frighteningly, her bad flatulence. I know it's funny, but it's very true.

I've realized, with the help of Marco, that in order for her to change her negative behavior and manipulative ways, it would need a special touch of me. Don't react. Be in the moment with her.

How do I accomplish that? I suppose I may have forgiven but I won't forget. I live by that, and I don't find any fault in doing that. However, I know I can't think about yesterday when I'm around her. I have to find some comfortable spot within myself and not give into her wanting negative attention (i.e. the rolling of my eyes, raising my voice). She thinks I hate her, so I'm trying to convey to her that I don't. But at the same time, I won't let her take advantage of me. It's quite an undertaking to deconstruct this giant wall I've built to keep her out. But I can no longer avoid it.

I decided to face some of this head on. I just got back from taking her to Austin for my nephew Shoobie's 3rd birthday. I figured she could spend some time with Marco and me and even spend the night. This was important not just because of bonding time, but she doesn't wake up easily, and I'm tired of having to bang on her door for an hour to get her up. Seems like a simple solution?

Spend the night?! Okay, what was I thinking? She cannot control her BMs and has to wear Depends. No problem. I decided to lay out an old pair of sheets on the bed that I didn't really care for. Last Friday night went well, and there were no surprises Saturday morning.

My biggest concern was her giving me the money for her hotel room. As long as she was to go with us, she would have to pay for her own hotel room. I really searched for an affordable place for her too, knowing she's on disability and doesn't earn a living. It seemed cruel to drop her off at a hotel after the birthday party, but drawing limits with her is crucial. Otherwise, you give an inch to her, she'll take 1,000 miles.

It's never easy riding with her in a car. She bombards you with millions of questions, but I really worked as I hard as I could to be positive. The truth is she said something that resonated with me. Something very lucid and right on. Saturday morning, she said that it's important to remain positive about our lives and situations so we don't invite all the pain and self-destructive harm into our own lives.

Wow. I was impressed. I usually feel like I'm dealing with a 12 year old instead of a 54 year old adult and mother. I kept that in mind as we rode down 35 to Austin. This was a lot to ask of me. A three hour road trip with her. Spending the night at my house. And so far, it wasn't the greatest experience, but it wasn't the worst either.

We listened to some French CDs that Marco and I have been working on for our trip to Paris. She remained calm and quiet. She didn't even beg to stop the car for a potty break. She was listening to the limits I clearly discussed with her. I was proud of that.

And most importantly, she didn't cry or say she was going to vomit! I felt she was prepared and knew I was not going to accept her bad behavior, which is almost always an exaggeration of the truth.

The party went quite well. She was well behaved, and I enjoyed spending time with my biological dad, stepmother, and my cousin Kyle, and his fiancee, Brittney.


So I guess that was the bad news turned good from all this. Don't worry, though. Some more unusual stuff popped up later, and I must say I handled it better than expected. But for now, the party was immense. Shoobie was getting everything and more!


My brother, Brian, made an enormouse Sponge Bob Squarepants cake that was amazing looking. It was extremely sweet! Shoobie had all his little friends over for all the fun. It was like a day at Hurrican Harbor!

I don't think I've ever seen such a huge extravaganza at a 3 year old's birthday. But he loved it. Many of his gifts were larger than his undersized body. Whether he will remember all the events, like the water slide, trampoline, multiple toy gifts, or even the cake, is another story yet to be seen.

Marco and I didn't stay very long. He got to see and hold Isabel for the first time, which was beautiful. She's grown so much already! As she sat in his warm arms, she smiled and laughed as he snuggled with her.



In the end, the weekend was decent. Mom handled her hotel quite well, despite my worries about having to pound on the door Sunday morning to wake her up and leave for Dallas. She was on time with everything. Unfortunately, I had a stye starting to form in my eye Sunday. But other than that, I felt that I handled the worrying better than I ever could have expected. In fact, I've realized that if I let go more and more, especially with the worrying, then it won't be my problem. I've turned her problems into mine because of my reactions.

Well, there was that one episode that occurred once we got back in Dallas. But I stopped it from escalating. In the end, she admitted that I was right. That felt like a first!

I think love is the one thing that has kept me from completely throwing her out of my life. I'm now exercising tough love, and I'm doing all that I can to not get angry. With that, I hope to stop reinforcing her negative behavior.

Love can go a long way, if you express it sincerely and from the right place. With a family like mine, I have to remember that.

Thankfully, I have Marco in my life, and now we have our own little family consisting of the two of us and our 3 collective pets, Atticus, Falcon and Luna.