Bella is a beautiful 2 1/2 year old that is currently sleeping with 6 varying sizes of black cats (stuffed animals), her beloved "Kap" (her "lovey/security" ratty old leopard stuffed animal), her lady bug "blankie". She is funny, full of silly personality (makes what I call a "popeye sassy face" when she doesn't like what is going on)...She is much easier to handle than she was when she first turned 2. I am hoping 3 will be even easier. We are just starting to potty train. She even has Hello Kitty big girl undies (hey, just like mommy!) but she is only interested in sitting on the potty (and Hey, that is a big step) but not actually using it yet. But all in good time..the point, it seems to me, is to encourage her put not to push too much or she'll just rebel. I know it can be a long process. I am fine with still changing her diapers. She has the most beautiful big hazel eyes and will never need mascara because her eyelashes (unlike my own) span out like tiny spider legs..mine are stubby. Her hair is nearly down to the middle of her back. I really don't think I am biased when I say she is very, very pretty. It kind of worries me that she is so pretty. I worry about predators and bad things happening to her. I am sure it happens much less than I think (and I assure you I don't actually sit around and worry about this every day) and it happens to girls and boys and men and women of all shapes and sizes and colors and "degrees of beauty".
Yesterday was hard as it was the 6th anniversary of my sister's murder. I happened to work and I just ended up putting her picture away in a desk drawer until the shift was over. I just couldn't face her. The pain is so much easier to take than years ago but my old "scab" analogy is still there. The emotional wound that is my grief will always be there..it has a huge and strong scab over it now..not so easily ripped off by the slightest things, but it is still a scab and every once in awhile it gets ripped off and that pain just oozes out. The scab is much faster growing and harder to rip off, though. Thank Goodness. I remember thinking in the first year that I would NEVER be ok, but I AM!! I don't define myself so much anymore as "the girl who had her sister murdered". I am Bella's mom, L's wife, a part-time newspaper employee...a half punk-rock, half granola crunchie woman of 42.
Though yesterday was hard for me it was even harder for an older friend (who also was my doula during my pregnancy at for Bella's birth. She also happens to be an old friend of my sister)..She has had a horrible year. One of the worst ever. I won't go into details, but the latest tragedy is that her brother (only 26) just didn't "wake up" the other morning (He is in Vermont, her and most of her family now reside in Oregon) and nobody knows why yet. She was just reeling from a tragedy involving her career (in which the media told a bunch of lies and her name may be blacklisted for quite some time) and then this hits. I took her food and flowers. I sat with her and talked (mostly listened). I don't know what she is going through but I have been in a similar situation and so I hope I helped somewhat. That is what friends so. They go and be there for somebody else. It helped me get out of my own mind. I needed to help somebody else in order to help myself. I needed to think that my worst day of the year was probably even more horrific for somebody else.
I sent L to the store to get chips and dip. I hate football but I WILL watch our local team play but ONLY if while enjoying crappy snacks!!
I really want to start writing here more frequently again. I miss writing. I think I am good at it. I want to be good at something besides just being Bella's mom.
