Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Best Valentine's Day with my little family

This past Valentine's weekend was one of the best family weekends to date. We decided to go to Pacifica because it was a beautiful day. Since it's on the coast, we fully expected it to be 10 degrees cooler than our town. We thought we would enjoy looking at the beach, eat lunch and just walk around.
It ended up being an absolutely beautiful day. Instead of being cooler, I think it may have even been warmer than where we live. We were ill-prepared for a day at the beach but still had an awesome time. We had a late breakfast at a diner and then headed over to a popular beach. We found free parking (if you know anything about the Bay Area, you know that basically means your day is set), and headed over to to the beach.
The Bun was stoked. We rolled up our pants and waded in the water. I had The Bean in my carrier and we enjoyed the sunshine.

Getting bunny-eared by his daddy.
Family self-portrait. Poor baby boy didn't quite make it in the shot.
Depending on the kindness of a stranger for this shot. I think it's my favorite<3

The Man stayed with The Bean while The Bun & I climbed a hill. Cliff? It was steep! Can you see us? We decided to stop not much farther than when this was photographed. We were in flip flops and it wouldn't have ended pretty. But I was proud of us for being adventurous. I think we basically climbed a path for goats.
We had to cross the stream twice. It was slippery and, again, we had poor footwear for this. But we did it and The Bun loved it.
It was such a beautiful day, we agreed we wanted to try and repeat it. The worrier in me wondered if it would fall flat because sometimes you just can't repeat a good thing. But I'm glad it wasn't the case. The second time around we were more prepared - this could be a good thing as well as a bad thing. The good, of course, is that we could comfortably lounge on the beach because we had blankets. The Bun could also play in the water because she had a bathing suit and a change of clothes. The Man and I were also more suitably dressed in shorts and tanks. The downside was that we weren't as mobile, meaning we couldn't easily pack up, leave, and then return like we could the day before. Leaving the beach would be a permanent decision this time around. And someone had to stick around to watch all our belongings. The good, however, greatly outweighed the inconvenient!
It was absolutely gorgeous. We normally don't get too many beach days in February.
I took a 45 minute walk on the beach w/ The Bean in the carrier. It was so nice to explore, get some fresh air and get some exercise. I walked in the water and the closer I got to the bluff, the rockier the sand felt. Ouch! But well worth the exploration. Just gorgeous.
Had a little photo fun with my son. We stayed on the blanket while his sister and Daddy played in the water. Considering how cold the water was, I was pretty happy with our end of the deal.
Fate was on our side. Although we didn't have reservations, Moonraker sat us in one of their premium booths (well, just about all their booths had an amazing view). The deal was that we had to leave before their 6:30 PM reservation came. No problem! I had a drink (The Man had a coffee) before our delicious dinner.
We even caught the sunset. It was absolutely breathtaking. Caught my little girl checking it out and had to laugh. Perfect way to end the day. 
With all the planning one has to do as parents, it was nice to have a couple of unplanned yet marvelous family days. I think that's what really made it special. Before children, it was easy to have simple yet beautiful days with The Man or with my good friends. But, as I've learned, with precious cargo comes great responsibility:) We are one those couples that aren't so spontaneous because it makes our lives much better and easier when we plan. Having the rare opportunity to pack up ourselves and the kids with little to no planning yet have two really great days is a blessing.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Something I've been given

I'm blessed with generous family and friends. I feel like I've been given a lot, tangible and intangible. What could I possibly write about? Well, the first thing to pop into my mind are my wedding rings.
I love my wedding rings.
I love what they symbolize and I think they're oh-so-pretty. Please don't think I'm shallow for the latter. I'm just glad that, nearly seven years later, I still find them to be just as beautiful as when I first laid eyes on them. They are classic and the diamond, while not perfect, is sparkly and bright. I'm certain I will love them 70 years from now, too.
I remember ring window shopping when we had been dating for just a couple of years. At that point, I was certain that I wanted a princess cut solitaire engagement ring. I thought it was beautiful, classic and simple. The Man wanted me to try it on, just to make sure. I was apprehensive. It felt like I was jinxing the whole thing. Like trying on wedding dresses without an engagement in sight. But he insisted so I chose a gorgeous sparkler of a ring and put it on.
It was hideous on me.
It was such a long time ago that I can't remember exactly what made it awful but it just didn't look right on my hand. I didn't like it at all and Gil said something like, "See? And this whole time, since you were a little girl, you thought you wanted this kind of ring. Aren't you glad you tried it on?"
Years later (and I mean, YEARS) from that window shopping date, The Man finally proposed. Even though he had asked me what kind of setting I liked, I was still surprised by how beautiful the engagement ring was.
He will sometimes tease me and say, "You're wearing my truck right there." (He had talked about wanting to buy a truck but said he had to divert funds to another cause. Ah-hem.) I know he looked and looked, trying find the perfect-for-me ring. By the end of it, he knew way more about diamonds and settings than I ever did. As with all weddings rings, they mean a lot. It's a symbol of your vows to one another and how you commit to being together for eternity.
Pretty serious stuff.
There you have it. Something I've been given that mean a lot to me.
Oh yah! I wanted to mention this. Just the other day, The Bun looks lovingly at my rings and said, "I wish I could have wedding rings." And I told her, "One day you will, baby."
She then said, "But I have to wait so long."
So then I said, "Well, one day these could be yours. When I die, you can have them."
To which she replied, "Oh goody!" (I don't hold it against her. She's 5 and speaks the unfiltered truth.)  But then she got a sad look and said, "But I don't want you to die!" (Well, that's better.)

Sunday, February 01, 2015

A family member

My brother, Donnie, is eight years older than me. He is diagnosed with autism and mental retardation. He lives in a group home one city over and needs constant care - bathroom care, day and evening care - basically, the care you would give a toddler or small child but he is an adult.
Donnie can't speak and knows minimal sign language. He is gentle and only uses his strength when he wants to take food. His vice is food and often times his medication makes him crave food, even when he is full, to the point where he will vomit from eating too much. But he is not violent. He is 5'4" and, as of last year, people now ask if he is younger than me. He has flawless tan skin, big almond eyes and my mom says he looks young because he doesn't have a worry in the world.
My parents spent most of his life worrying about him. There came a point when Donnie became too strong, he wasn't quite a teenager yet, and they had to seek help to take care of him. In the early 80s, he lived in a nice group home in Malibu where he got to do things like horseback riding. But his behavior changed to the point in which it disqualified him from living there. I don't know if "disqualify" is the proper term but essentially he was too difficult for them to handle. He wasn't his mild-mannered self and he had started doing things like soiling his pants. The staff found it too hard to take care of him. To be fair, there is a certain grade or functioning level that all clients need to be at in a home (they have to be similar enough so the staff can take care of them) and my brother wasn't behaving at that level.
But to be fair to Donnie, doctors figured out much later that it wasn't my brother's fault - he had a bad reaction to one of his medications. Or two of his many medications clashed with each other, bringing on the unusual behavior. I forgot which one it was but it changed his life.
My brother then lived in a state institution in Sonoma for many years. During this time, I was in grade school and then high school. I wish I could tell you I was more involved in my brother's life but I was a bit too self-centered  and immature, leaving him  and the situation all up to our parents. I remember, though, visiting my brother and being scared to get him. It was a large institution filled with patients with varying degrees of mental illnesses. I remember touring and, just like you would see in the movies with insane asylums, there were medical staff behind a square class enclosures while patients wandered the hallways.
At the end of all our visits, my parents would have to bribe my brother with snacks (I guess food has always been his vice) to get him to get out of the car and walk him back inside the building and to his room. I never thought about it back then but I'm certain it was a scary place for him. He is not violent and when people show aggression, he cowers. I'm not saying this because I love him but he truly is a gentle soul.
I forgot to mention that the one time I did tour the facility, a female patient grabbed my ponytail and pulled. No staff helped so my dad finally had to grab her wrist and squeeze hard so she would let go. My parents never made me get out of the car to walk him back to his room after that.
My dad worked nights so my mom would attend these meetings for parents who had children in this institution. I found out later that it was because they were banding together to sue the state. They knew their children were unsafe. It's been a long time so I can't remember if one parent had a daughter who got pregnant or found out that his daughter had been raped. Either way, it was horrific. These parents, along with my parents, wanted the state to pay for their children to be in decent group homes and not in an institution that couldn't properly take care of them. Remember, my brother never wanted to go back to his room at the end of our visits.
I don't know what my brother endured there or life, in general. He cannot talk and has the mind of very young boy in a grown man's body. But he cannot talk or defend himself. I don't want to think about what has happened to him or what awful people may have done to him. My mom said that she had heard from a staff member that there was a patient who picked on him and would throw his shoes on the roof. I sincerely hope that was all that has been done to him. Donnie is a vulnerable soul who depends on the kindness and love of individuals. Sure, we all kind of do but he is like a little boy. I know my parents worried and continue to worry that no evil goes near him but isn't it awful to know that you just never know?
I've written about my belief in God and still having a lot of questions. I do believe, though, that my brother is an angel on earth. He is completely innocent and doesn't understand sin. One of the things I struggle with is why can't God protect innocent beings like him, babies, young children and the truly vulnerable. Why wicked people are allowed to hurt those who cannot protect themselves. It makes me cry thinking about it.
I wish my brother and I could talk. I wish I could do more for him and be a better sister. Most of all, I wish that he could only be surrounded by people who only mean to do right by him. It's something I pray for just about every day.