Anniversaries.

This coming Sunday, the 30th of September, is my parent's 40th wedding anniversary. My brother's 1st anniversary is the following Sunday, October 7th.

I haven't really spoken to my brother since he told me I would not be welcome at his wedding last year. I haven't spoken to my father since this post, and I've only had minor email conversations with my mom since this post.

I've not been told of, let alone invited to, any anniversary party anyone might be throwing for my parents. Not that that surprises me or anything.

Mom & Dad, happy anniversary. I love you.

Tom and Andra, happy anniversary. I love you.

Happy birthday to my "baby", Earl, who turned 22 today.

9/11, times 6.

Six years. It's really hard to believe. I'm really kinda irked they haven't started rebuilding the two towers. And Homeland Security? What a joke. We are LESS safe today than we were 6 years ago, and it will not get better until someone who actually gives a fuck is in the White House.

After Matt gets home from preschool, we'll watch the 9/11 documentary by the two French brothers, something I do every year on this day.

Thanks to Yahoo! news, I found this gem today. I don't know what I'll do this year, if anything, but next year, I'll plan something me and the kids can do together, volunteer somewhere or something. I'd go give blood today, but who wants to take a 16 month old with them when they get a needle stuck in their arm?

Do something good today.

YES!

My jeans finally go up over my hips!

Before you all go hatin' on me about thinking I'm complaining about my weight, this has NOTHING to do with my weight (okay, maybe a little) and EVERYTHING to do with having a baby 16 months ago.

Babies make things wider, and it takes quite a while for them to get back to the way they were before.

Now, the belly stuff hanging over the front of my jeans, yeah, that's all about the weight, but I'm blaming that on the baby too. It couldn't possibly be because I'm a lazy bum who spends way to much time on my computer playing Sims 2. Not that at all.

Pre School!

Today Matthew actually attended pre-school! Of course I overslept (the alarm didn't go off, or the benadril made me sleep through it, one of the two), so I was very happy that Keith went in to work late so he could be a part of Matthew's first day (attending) pre-school. Keith got the kids fed and dressed while I scrambled around getting myself ready.

After dropping Matthew off in the care of his wonderful teachers, I brought Keith back home, then went to the DMV to renew the CR-V's license for another two years. By the time I got home, I only had about 30 minutes before I had to leave to pick up Matthew. Of course the traffic light where I needed to turn left was acting up, and made me (2 minutes) late, and Matthew was so upset that I wasn't there to pick him up when he got outside. *sigh*

He said he loves school, and he wants to go back again. YAY!

Now if this allergic reaction I'm having to something completely unknown would go away, I'd be golden!

I swear, I just brought him home yesterday!

Today, Matthew turns FOUR years old!

His very first picture, ever:

First day of life outside the womb:

Two years old:Three years old:

Being a punk rocker for Halloween last year:

Oh, and the mohawk is back! But I don't have a
picture to post of it.

Next week, he starts pre-school. *sniff*

So Long, suckers!

Tomorrow, Keith and I head out to Sunny California for a (much needed) 5-day vacation without the children.

The forecast for the particular area we're going? Highs in the low 80's, lows in the upper 60's.

The forecast for Kansas City? 101F, low 74F

heh, don't you wish you were going with us?!

Who, me?

So XO over at Hip Suburban White Guy tagged me a few days ago for the 8 Random Things About Me me-me. ME! He tagged ME! I'm finally popular enough to be tagged!

I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

Okay, on to learning even MORE about me! It's not like this blog is my outlet for sharing my thoughts or opinions, right?

1. I grew up not having a TV in the house. Apparently my parent's tv died when I was two, and they just never replaced it. They finally got another when I was 12. My mom did tell me once that she absolutely hated Big Bird. Guess I watched Sesame Street when I was little!

2. My cb radio handle is two-bit. I hated it. Back in the day, when cb radios were the 'thing' and there were no cell phones, my parents used it to communicate when my dad was working. We only had one car, so it made sense. My dad's handle is Yankee Clipper, and my mom's is Lady Clipper. I should have been baby clipper or something like that. Two-bit sucked ass.

3. I have been technically homeless. Fortunately, I had enough friends I always had a place to stay until I found my own place.

4. I almost flunked my freshman art class when I was a senior in high school. It was my fine arts credit, too. Very important. If I flunked that class, I didn't graduate! I should have just taken Spanish III.

5. I am a Sims addict. I had every single expansion pack (EP) for the original Sims, and every EP for the Sims 2. I only have one of their 'stuff packs', though. I still have my original Sims games, but they are no longer on my computer.

6. I am the best cook in my family. Seriously. My grandmother's idea of potatoes were those that came from a box. And that is why Keith used to do most of the cooking. I cook more (and better than I used to) now that he works later, but you have no idea how happy I am that I fell in love with someone that knows how and LIKES to cook. (And his smoked ribs & chicken are to die for!)

7. I love reading the Harry Potter books. When I first heard of the series, I decided to not read them because I figured if they were as good as everyone was saying, I'd get addicted, and then have to suffer the wait until the next book was released. A few years later, the movies started. Keith and I liked the first movie so much, we started reading the books. I think there were only 4 books at that time, so I've been waiting with everyone else anyway. Oh well, they ARE good.

8. There are times when I hate having children. They suck so much out of you. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my children. I wouldn't give them up, or trade them for anything. I may even have another. But there are moments when I wish they didn't live with me 24/7. And then Matthew will run up to me, hug me, and say "I love you mommy!" and I just melt. Big puddle on the floor. Parenting is the hardest thing I have ever done. And I've escaped a toxic religion, so doing hard things is not a foreign concept to me. I'd have to say that it is also one of the most rewarding things I have ever done.

There. Eight things about me. I'm not going to tag anyone, except maybe Fate!

So everyone knows that Kieth and I had our 6th anniversary earlier this month, right? I mean, its not like we tried to burn down our house or anything like that.

And pretty much everyone that reads this blog knows about the many issues I have with my parent's religion.

So I have finally moved on from the feelings this post inspired, and then I get an email from my mother. Five days AFTER my anniversary. *WM means Wal-Mart*

happy 6th anniversary.hope you are doing, ok we are. i quit W M. am working with Dad. stress level is way down. am happier, have time to play in my garden. going to columbia,mo for assembly in aug.

These few sentences tell me so very much. The date tells me my parents still don't have internet at home, my mom had to go to the library to send me this email. It tells me that my mom probably had to sneak out to the library to use the internet. And it tells me that they weren't even in town the beginning of June (so they weren't ignoring me after all).

After many days of deliberation, I finally found a way to tell my mom how hurt I was, hopefully without being to mean about it.

I'm so glad you're happy and less stressed! Everyone is doing fine up here, Josie is now 13 months old and walking all over the place. Matthew will be four in August (I swear, I just brought him home yesterday!). Keith has a really awesome job with *****, the *** company. I'm still staying at home with the kids right now, most days I love it, some days they drive me crazy.

I must say, though, that I was very hurt and upset when you didn't call to see your grandchildren during the assembly here in Kansas City. I had no way of knowing that you weren't here, but I do keep track of things that are going on in the religion. I know when the assemblies are (I even know most of what is talked about at the assemblies), I know about the new Watchtower formats, and all the new rules the Governing Body has imposed upon you all.

I'm not stupid, but I also can't read your mind to know which assembly you attend, so you not calling during the assembly up here really hurt me, mostly because you're denying my children the chance to get to know you. And you are a wonderful person, a person worthy of being known.

And sadly, I don't really know you, not who you were when you were younger. I don't know what hopes and dreams you had, I don't know many stories of your youth, and I don't know what makes you tick.

All I know is that you have let Dad (another person worthy of being known) guilt everyone in the family into not having any contact with me or your sister. I know that you sneak away about once a year to have lunch with your sister. I know that you probably had to sneak away to the library just to email me.

I sit here in tears because I hurt so much. I hurt for myself, I hurt for my children, and I hurt for you and dad.

I, too, am worthy of being known, and so are my children. But you don't know who I am anymore. You don't know my dreams, for me or my children, and you never ask.

Love is not a feeling, Mom, Love is an action. Love is an email, love is a phone call, love is a letter, love is a hug, and love is being there for your children when they need you.

When I needed you most, you were denied me, and you were denied being here for me.

Sad what the rules of 9-12 men in Brooklyn who run a publishing company have done to our lives, isn't it?

I've seen their version of love first hand, and quite honestly, want absolutely nothing to do with it ever again. I have something more precious. I have UNCONDITIONAL love. It's absolutely amazing.

I wish it would actually make a difference in how they treat me, but, truly, I'm not holding my breath. Nothing will change until my father is gone. And that in and of itself makes me sad.

Because I haven't showed off my kids lately

Kisses for you!

See how flexible I am!

Yeah, I'm THAT cool.

Who, me?

First hair cut!

After first haircut!

We'll laugh in a year or two.

Yesterday was hubby and I's 6th wedding anniversary. Instead of our traditional dinner out at a steak house, we decided to cook our own steak at home.

Let me just say, its much cheaper to go out.

We wound up eating Subway for dinner, and we now need to replace our stove hood. And we will never try to flambe something in our kitchen ever again.

Keith should have pictures of the aftermath up at the family site soon.

edited to add: It was Steak au Poivre, from Alton Brown. The steaks were fine, it was the brandy that we had issues with!

Keith's comments here, and pictures here.

*sigh*

This past weekend (June 1-3), my parents were here in Kansas City for their Annual District Convention of Jehovah's Witnesses. This year's theme was "Follow The Christ".

I wonder if any of these points were mentioned?

Jesus did not shun those who were shunned due to religious decrees. Not one.

The first person Jesus (supposedly) told as to his supernatural identity was the Samaritan woman at the well, who had slept with 7 men and was shacking up with another man. Jesus put this horrible sinner first and never condemned her at all.

The only group ever condemned directly by Jesus own mouth according to the traditional gospels were the religious leaders who put laws before people that were too much for them to bear. (read up on Matt 23 and compare to the Governing Body)

I'm guessing not, seeing as how my parents didn't even call to see their only grandchildren.

Exactly what do my parents think I'm going to tell my children when they ask me why their grandparents never see them? That mommy did something really really bad and this is her punishment? That mommy left the only true God and condemned myself and them to destruction at Armageddon?

I'll tell you what I'm going to tell my children. I'm going to tell them that their grandparents love them the best that they can, but they belong to a religion that forbids them to have any contact with their only daughter because I dared to leave the church I was raised in. I dared to be an independent thinker and dared to question the authority of 9-12 MEN. I refused to let MEN tell me who I could and could not talk to or associate with. I refused to let MEN tell me, that because I was born a woman, I would always be a second-class citizen.

I refused to be a victim my whole life, never thinking that I was good enough for God.

I refused to lie about who I am to fit into their small mold of what is acceptable. I am so much more than that. According to them, God created each and everyone of us, but yet to follow God, we're not allowed to reach our full potential.

I cry for my children for the loss of their grandparents, whom they will most likely never know.

I cry for myself for the loss of my parents, for their love requires them to love the law of men more than their daughter.

I cry for my parents who will never know just how beautiful and wonderful their grandchildren truly are.

I cry for my brother who will never realize his dream of a Masters in Physics because to do so would take too much time away from his God (not to mention would completely destroy his faith and make him as evil as me).

My parents and brothers are more than a religion, but the chance to know them as people has been stolen from me.

1972

Today, I turn 35.

I don't feel 35 in my brain, but my body reminds me quite often. Nothing major, just minor things, like those extra 20 pounds leftover from my second pregnancy didn't just fall off like they did after the first pregnancy. Knees that hurt at just the thought of going to the gym. Little things like that.

A lot has happened in the last year. I had a baby last May. My brother invited me, then UN-invited me to his wedding. My blood family stopped talking to me completely. I had a breakdown. I started therapy. My son turned 3. Someone I considered my best friend turned her back on me. Someone else, whom I also considered my best friend, stuck with me through all the shit I've been through the last year, and truly became my sister. I adopted a new brother (Hi, Andrew!).

Even with all the family shit, it's been a fairly good year for me. I have two beautiful children and a wonderful husband. I have "adopted" family who truly cares for me. I have a wonderful mother-in-law. I have great friends on the internet (only some of who I've met).

If the sun stays out, I think I'll take the kids to the park today.

Oh, and hubby got me an Ipod shuffle for my b-day present! Go me!

/rant on

Yesterday, I spent at least an hour cleaning up the kitchen. This morning when I went down to fix breakfast for Matt, it was a disaster. Apparently no one (including me) bothered to clean up from supper last night. The plates were still on the table.

There was cat puke on my stairs this morning.

I woke up not feeling well; congested, sinus drainage, the usual.

Matthew has been pushing all my buttons all day long.

My Sims2 game would not load this morning, no matter what I did (including removeing all hacks and custom content). I'm currently re-installing the game and all 5 expansion packs after deleting them. (I'm not stupid, I did save all my custom content)

Matthew got into the salt (that was left on the table) and made a mess all over the table and floor.

My goddamn mutherfucking phone (that Cingular sold me without telling me they had discontinued it) died in the middle of a conversation with my insurance to find out if I had any mental health coverage to help pay for my therapy. If I didn't want an IPhone so bad, I'd switch carriers. As it is, I have to put up with a phone that eats batteries for 3-4 more months.

/rant off. but I'm still pissy.

Because it's not football if you don't break something.

So, because my parents are allowed to speak with me, just not associate with me, my mom called me tonight to let me know that my youngest brother Earl broke his right ankle playing football today.

He broke the small bone, and dislocated pretty much everything else. He's going into surgery tomorrow (a SUNDAY) to put a plate on the broken bone. He is currently on a MORPHINE drip right now. He may get to go home on Tuesday.

Oh, did I mention that because he's a Jehovah's Witness, he dropped out of college, and works at a job where he has no medical insurance. He's 21 years old, and has thousands of dollars of medical debt now.

*sigh*

Demons

I know I've been really quiet on the blog lately, but even with all the great things happening in my life right now, I've really been struggling with how my blood family treats me. For some reason, the love that is shown to me by people other than my blood family this past holiday season really intensified my grief, because that's how my blood family should be treating me. It doesn't help that I haven't had the money or the time to visit my 'head doctor' since November. I was supposed to see her last night, but Keith is working 10 hour days this week, so I won't see her until Monday.

oh well.

On the awesome side of life, Josie is now crawling and sitting up by herself. She LOVES to stand up as much as possible. Matthew loves his train set he got for christmas, almost as much as he loves the Thomas the tank engine that Billy got for him!

Last night, while both kids were in the bathtub, I heard Matthew yelling "NO" to Josie, and it sounded like she was crying. I say sounded like because after running down the hall to check on them, I discovered her laughing hysterically every time he would say "NO" to her. She was laughing so hard, she was falling over and hitting her head on the side of the tub. She just kept laughing, though, I guess it wasn't really hurting her. I called Keith in, and we both just stood there and laughed for about 5 minutes watching them play their little game.

Lesson learned: Baby's laughter is good for the soul. Fuck the chicken soup.

Sisters by choice are the best sisters to have.

I first met Kristina in 1998 while working at the Fox & the Hound on Metcalf. I was separated from my husband and going to cosmetology school. My parents and brothers had moved to Chapala, Mexico, not too far from Guadalajara. I had been kicked out of my religion. I had no friends, no family, and no support network.

For some reason unknown to me, Kris decided to befriend me. In doing so, she dragged me kicking & screaming into the extended Mulbrook family, giving me new parents and brothers. In doing so, she also gave me something I had never had until then, a sister.

Eight years later, we are still the closest of friends. I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful children. Sadly, my actual parents don’t really talk to me, even though they only live 3 hours away from me now.

I will always be grateful to Kristina and her family for taking me in, and for being some of the first people in my life to show me true unconditional love.

Thank you, Kristina, for fulfilling a need I didn’t even know I had.

update

I want to say thank you to everyone that commented, called, pm'd, and emailed me with their concerns and hugs, it really means a lot to me.

Sadly enough, the very ones to whom this post was written to completely missed the entire point of my anger and frustration.

This is the email I recieved from my mother:

i am ashamed of you  you are a big girl you do not have to
throw a temmper tantrum because you did not get to do something you wanted.
you are the one who threw us away ten years ago when you thought you were
mature enough to handle mark.  don't blame us for your problems.
we were happy. we gave you what we could    lots of LOVE. we still LOVE
you even tho that message was the most hateful thing i have have ever heard
out of you
we have our problems. we will have problems   your brothers are very
hurt that you think that.  your dad was devestated that you hate him that
much. i am shocked and ashamed of you.

This is the email I sent back in response:

Subject: Well, you completely missed the point.

Not that I'm surprised, really.

Temper tantrum? Try mental breakdown. And it's been 5 years in the making. Tom's wedding wasn't even the straw that broke the camel's back.

How often do any of you call me just to chat? How often do you ask to see your grandchildren? How often do you send me an email to find out how I'm doing? I stopped calling you a year and a half ago when you didn't acknowledge the pictures I sent of Matthew to you, and you never even noticed.

And exactly how did I throw you away when I married Mark? You lost me on that one. Mark had absolutely NOTHING to do with why I left your religion. I threw you away? I don't think so. You are required to treat me as if I was the devil, turning your back on me. I threw away nothing but empty promises made by old dead men. (Just when is Armageddon coming? Soon, isn't it? I thought it was supposed to be here in 1914, no, 1935, no, 1975, wait, when is it coming again? 2034? Oh well, it's RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER!)

I know that you love me. I love you very much. Nowhere in my post did I express hatred for any of my family, not even Dad. Hatred for what your religion makes you do, yes, but not for you. But you can't see that, can you?

I don't blame you for any of my problems. Quite frankly, I don't really have any problems, I have a very happy life. I have a wonderful husband who shows me unconditional love and two beautiful children. I actually live a more moral life than I did while I was a witness.

You did the best you could, and I love you for that. You raised me to be strong and independent and to think for myself. But yet, because I am strong, because I am independent, because I think for myself, I am punished. You are punished.

I find it very interesting that you feel free to tell me how ashamed you are of me because of mere words that I wrote from the bottom of my heart in the depths of pain, but yet you've never told me how proud you are of me for being the strong, independent woman you raised me to be. You've never told me how proud you are of my beautiful children.

And you are MISSING your grandchildren's lives. Do you have any idea of the pain I feel when I think about them missing out on the wonderful grandparents they have?

I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting to have you in my life. For 8 years I have fought to keep you in my life so you could be in your grandchildren's lives. But you never ask to see your grandchildren. You weren't even there the day Matthew was born. That hurt me so very much. You have no idea how painful it is to even remember that. I feel that me and my family just aren't important to you, at all.

Temper tantrum? Try mental breakdown. Over 5 years in the making. And all because your religion prevents you from showing me the love I know you have for me.

*sigh* I'm sure that they still will miss the point, if they even read it. This was a bridge I really didn't want to burn, but my anger and frustration just couldn't be contained anymore. And sometimes, the best someone can do just isn't enough.