There can be no comparison to the unconditional love that I feel for my son. From the moment I knew that he was inside of me - my life changed forever. It has been a wondrous journey so far - feeling him grow, finding out that he is a boy, meeting him for the first time. The wonder of all of the firsts - cries, yawns, smiles, rolling over, crawling walking, talking, singing. Watching him as he explores the world - so full of questions. Listening to him become an outstanding reader - writing his own stories and poetry. Seeing him being such a good and compassionate little being - making smiles happen wherever he goes - he always has something of himself to give. He is simply amazing. I feel my heart will burst one of these days with the love that I have for him. And as where I'm in no hurry to see him grow up too fast - I'm fascinated to see how he will evolve and who he will become as he gets older. Nature and nurture working together to create a very special human being. I wonder who it is that he will fall in love with. Will he fall in love with a man or a woman or both? To me, it's the second biggest mystery after finding out if he was a boy or a girl. Just like the color of his hair, the length of his fingers, the sound of his voice - his sexuality is just as much as who he is.
I can not for one moment ever imagine not wanting to be just as much a part of his life, loving him any less, wanting any less for him if he is homosexual rather the heterosexual. Simply can not imagine how a parent's love could turn into hatred simply based on who their child falls in love with. My heart breaks for all of the children whose parents have turned away from them. Sexuality is part of what makes a soul and we should be able to love and be loved unconditionally.
It does not matter what toys you give your child to play with. There really are no 'girl' toys or 'boy' toys. The toys in a child's hands is not what determines his sexuality. Why would you want to squash your child's potential by limiting his choices? Girls don't just have to wear pink dance. Boys don't just have to wear blue and play football. Every child should have the freedom - and parents who foster it - to be whatever they want to be. Just because a boy is in ballet does not mean he's gay. Just because a boy play's football does not mean that he is straight. It does not work that way.
My son is a poet, a singer, a piano player, a lego builder, a sandcastle maker. He loves to dance and he's a showman. A few months ago he was planning his wedding to Maia - a sweet little girl who sat next to him in the first grade. But who knows - maybe in the second grade he will be planning his wedding to Andrew.
All I know is I want to be there on his Wedding Day.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Kara B. is a lovely person
At Tuesday's night PTO meeting - Joli - a wonderful chick and becoming a friend - put an ad pulled out of a magazine on the table - It shows a picture of the inside of a bathroom stall and etched into the wall says "KARA B IS A LOVELY PERSON!!!!" I thought that this was pretty cool - as I'm Kara B. (though I'm sure I'm not the only Kara B. in the world). It was mine to keep - and I think that I will frame it.
This morning I pulled it out and looked into what the ad was all about. At the bottom of the ad it says "be nice behind someone's back, DO IT AT FACEBOOK.COM/MEANSTINKS." So off I went to facebook and typed in "Mean Stinks" in the search field.
It's a facebook community to stop bullying between girls. Here's what the info blurb on the page says:
"Mean Stinks. What kind of Mean? Girl-to-Girl Mean. Face-to-face, text-to-text, pen-to-bathroom-stall-door, whatever. Whether you’ve been mean or been meaned, this page is for undoing it. For being nice behind someone’s back. Cool to someone’s face. Or Facebook."
It's a way for girls who are being bullied to get help and talk about what happens to them in the world." It includes an app called "Good Graffiti" - which lets girls 'scrawl' good graffiti about a friend on their facebook wall. Like ' "Kara B. is a lovely person."
So all of this info searching has occurred in the last 15 minutes and I am crying as I type this. In junior high and high school - I was too quiet and watched the world around me with such intensity in my eyes that it freaked people out. I also had 'buck teeth." I had no friends. I was an outcast. An outcast of the outcasts. I ran cross country and track and all of my teammates bullied me at one time or another. Nothing physical - but bullying between girls rarely is. I thought that I had one friend. Her name was Lisa. Until one day she told me she did not want me to eat lunch at her table anymore. I was too weird for her. She was embarrassed by me because I was too quiet. I did not know where to go to eat lunch. So, I started hiding in the bathroom stall in the locker room to eat. This was the moment when my trust was shattered - and would not start to mend for 20 years.
Being a part of my son's school's PTO is really out of my comfort zone. But I want to make a difference and I want to be a part of my son's education. Because of everything that happened in junior high and high school - I am extremely socially awkard - and I have huge trust issues. There have been times in the past few months that I just have not wanted to continue on with the PTO. It is at times too much to be involved with so many other 'girls.' I tend to go into any relationship with the preconceived idea that I am going to get hurt. So, I keep everyone at an arms distance away. Not letting the walls around me ever come down - with fear that I will be hurt again. Other than my husband (who is my best friend) I do not have any close friends. I just have acquaintances. I tend to even keep my husband behind that wall at times.
I've had a lot of self-realizations lately and I think that all of my self-discovery has been leading to this moment.
The moment where - a cool chick who is becoming my friend - puts an ad from a magazine that says "KARA B. IS A LOVELY PERSON' down on the table in front of me.
I think that it's a turning point in my life. For me to start letting people in again. To start developing relationships. To learn to trust.
To finally have a friend.
This morning I pulled it out and looked into what the ad was all about. At the bottom of the ad it says "be nice behind someone's back, DO IT AT FACEBOOK.COM/MEANSTINKS." So off I went to facebook and typed in "Mean Stinks" in the search field.
It's a facebook community to stop bullying between girls. Here's what the info blurb on the page says:
"Mean Stinks. What kind of Mean? Girl-to-Girl Mean. Face-to-face, text-to-text, pen-to-bathroom-stall-door, whatever. Whether you’ve been mean or been meaned, this page is for undoing it. For being nice behind someone’s back. Cool to someone’s face. Or Facebook."
It's a way for girls who are being bullied to get help and talk about what happens to them in the world." It includes an app called "Good Graffiti" - which lets girls 'scrawl' good graffiti about a friend on their facebook wall. Like ' "Kara B. is a lovely person."
So all of this info searching has occurred in the last 15 minutes and I am crying as I type this. In junior high and high school - I was too quiet and watched the world around me with such intensity in my eyes that it freaked people out. I also had 'buck teeth." I had no friends. I was an outcast. An outcast of the outcasts. I ran cross country and track and all of my teammates bullied me at one time or another. Nothing physical - but bullying between girls rarely is. I thought that I had one friend. Her name was Lisa. Until one day she told me she did not want me to eat lunch at her table anymore. I was too weird for her. She was embarrassed by me because I was too quiet. I did not know where to go to eat lunch. So, I started hiding in the bathroom stall in the locker room to eat. This was the moment when my trust was shattered - and would not start to mend for 20 years.
Being a part of my son's school's PTO is really out of my comfort zone. But I want to make a difference and I want to be a part of my son's education. Because of everything that happened in junior high and high school - I am extremely socially awkard - and I have huge trust issues. There have been times in the past few months that I just have not wanted to continue on with the PTO. It is at times too much to be involved with so many other 'girls.' I tend to go into any relationship with the preconceived idea that I am going to get hurt. So, I keep everyone at an arms distance away. Not letting the walls around me ever come down - with fear that I will be hurt again. Other than my husband (who is my best friend) I do not have any close friends. I just have acquaintances. I tend to even keep my husband behind that wall at times.
I've had a lot of self-realizations lately and I think that all of my self-discovery has been leading to this moment.
The moment where - a cool chick who is becoming my friend - puts an ad from a magazine that says "KARA B. IS A LOVELY PERSON' down on the table in front of me.
I think that it's a turning point in my life. For me to start letting people in again. To start developing relationships. To learn to trust.
To finally have a friend.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Remembering a Birthday and a Deathday
My little brother would have been 31 today. I can remember the morning that he came into this world. In the hospital waiting room very early in the morning, a sweet old woman gave me lifesavers. After he was born - the doctor picked me up and took me to see my Mom and new baby brother - even though it was against the rules. Ryan.
My first birthday gift to him was Chicken Pox! It was a bad case too - all the first birthday photographs show those marks clearly. He was such a smart kid - always taking things apart to figure out how they worked. To my Mom's dismay - this curiosity even claimed the kitchen phone. Being almost six years apart - we weren't that close - but we did have a connection. We used to have 'feet fights' on the living room couch- I remember that so clearly - yet so much is just a blur. Even as we reached adulthood - we would still wake up in the wee hours on Christmas Morning - and watch movies together - usually Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Waiting for Mom and Dad to wake up - we'd dive into our stockings together.
I didn't get him anything for his last birthday - his 21st - and though my Dad tried to make me feel guilty about that - I never have. You see, I had just given him one hundred dollars so that he could pay a speeding ticket, so that was my birthday gift to him. One of my last conversations with him - he confided to me that he had rescued a cat and was keeping it in his room - feeding it pizza and probably trying to see if it was possible to get a cat high. He then went on to tell me that he was concerned that I was going to get married, have a kid and get fat. (Which is basically what - happened).
I took him to the airport on the afternoon of April 19, 2001. He gave me a journal and asked me not to read it - not to let anyone else read it - but to keep it safe. He gave me a hug and said "See ya babe." He boarded a flight to San Diego, California with a plan. I drove home from the airport somehow knowing that I would never see my little brother again, listening to music. I have not been able to listen to music while driving by myself since without breaking down in tears. In the next few days my parents tried to get in touch with him and bring him home. Booked a greyhound bus ticket for him. He never made it to the bus terminal.
On the night of April 22nd he went to LA (he thought he was Jesus) and gave away all of his possessions except for the clothes on his back and his wallet. The next day he went back to San Diego. He made his way to the roof of the San Diego Harbor Island Hotel - and looking out at the ocean - took a leap. He was declared at 8:51pm on the west coast. At 2:38am on the 24th - our doorbell rang.
So absolutely unreal, I don't know how my Mom and Dad made it through the next few hours. I don't think they ever truly lived again. Until my Dad's death this past August - he was always trying to find out how to fix 'it' - my Mom - still alive - will always blame herself. Constantly looking back on her life - scrutinizing the smallest details - trying to figure out what she did wrong. How can you tell a parent - that it was not their fault - and have them believe it? My Dad called one of Ryan's friends shortly after the police gave him the news - and not 15 minutes later ten friends were sitting in our living room. Pale twenty somethings - utterly shocked. I'm thankful every day that my love was there with me that morning - having spent the night. He was there for my Dad and there for my Brother's friends - he was there for my Mom, too, but I don't think she felt deserving of anyone's consolation.
His decision was made as soon as he boarded that flight. That notebook he gave me to keep safe contained a note. That is the guilt I carry. Every day. If I could just go back - and not have taken him to the airport that day. There's no bringing back the dead.
Happy Birthday, little Brother. I hope that wherever you are - that Dad and Link are with you - playing ball in a big grassy field.
My first birthday gift to him was Chicken Pox! It was a bad case too - all the first birthday photographs show those marks clearly. He was such a smart kid - always taking things apart to figure out how they worked. To my Mom's dismay - this curiosity even claimed the kitchen phone. Being almost six years apart - we weren't that close - but we did have a connection. We used to have 'feet fights' on the living room couch- I remember that so clearly - yet so much is just a blur. Even as we reached adulthood - we would still wake up in the wee hours on Christmas Morning - and watch movies together - usually Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Waiting for Mom and Dad to wake up - we'd dive into our stockings together.
I didn't get him anything for his last birthday - his 21st - and though my Dad tried to make me feel guilty about that - I never have. You see, I had just given him one hundred dollars so that he could pay a speeding ticket, so that was my birthday gift to him. One of my last conversations with him - he confided to me that he had rescued a cat and was keeping it in his room - feeding it pizza and probably trying to see if it was possible to get a cat high. He then went on to tell me that he was concerned that I was going to get married, have a kid and get fat. (Which is basically what - happened).
I took him to the airport on the afternoon of April 19, 2001. He gave me a journal and asked me not to read it - not to let anyone else read it - but to keep it safe. He gave me a hug and said "See ya babe." He boarded a flight to San Diego, California with a plan. I drove home from the airport somehow knowing that I would never see my little brother again, listening to music. I have not been able to listen to music while driving by myself since without breaking down in tears. In the next few days my parents tried to get in touch with him and bring him home. Booked a greyhound bus ticket for him. He never made it to the bus terminal.
On the night of April 22nd he went to LA (he thought he was Jesus) and gave away all of his possessions except for the clothes on his back and his wallet. The next day he went back to San Diego. He made his way to the roof of the San Diego Harbor Island Hotel - and looking out at the ocean - took a leap. He was declared at 8:51pm on the west coast. At 2:38am on the 24th - our doorbell rang.
So absolutely unreal, I don't know how my Mom and Dad made it through the next few hours. I don't think they ever truly lived again. Until my Dad's death this past August - he was always trying to find out how to fix 'it' - my Mom - still alive - will always blame herself. Constantly looking back on her life - scrutinizing the smallest details - trying to figure out what she did wrong. How can you tell a parent - that it was not their fault - and have them believe it? My Dad called one of Ryan's friends shortly after the police gave him the news - and not 15 minutes later ten friends were sitting in our living room. Pale twenty somethings - utterly shocked. I'm thankful every day that my love was there with me that morning - having spent the night. He was there for my Dad and there for my Brother's friends - he was there for my Mom, too, but I don't think she felt deserving of anyone's consolation.
His decision was made as soon as he boarded that flight. That notebook he gave me to keep safe contained a note. That is the guilt I carry. Every day. If I could just go back - and not have taken him to the airport that day. There's no bringing back the dead.
Happy Birthday, little Brother. I hope that wherever you are - that Dad and Link are with you - playing ball in a big grassy field.
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