Letters For Lucas

Wonders, Mishaps, Blunders and Joy.. commentary on my life as a mom in the form of letters to my son

I’ve Arrived!

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I received my first THREE negative comments over the weekend and feel compelled to share a note with someone who likes to call themselves “Anonymous”:

Dear Anonymous,

I may not know you’re name, but I do know where you live and that you spent over 10 hours on my blog on Saturday. Thank you so much for visiting, but 10 hours? I didn’t think what I had to say was all that interesting and I can’t help but wonder what responsibilities you neglected while you were leaving nasty comments on my blog.You are a repeat visitor too.

I really appreciate your insight and well thought out responses [insert eye roll here] to my posts, Green With Envy regarding my jealousy towards my sister for going to a taping of the Oprah Winfrey Show and Ebony & Ivory, also about my sister, our relationship and 11 year age gap.

I have never moderated my comments before they are posted and have never deleted one that I didn’t agree with. Oh, I take that back, I did delete Leah’s on Ebony & Ivory, but featured it yesterday in it’s entirety.

I always try to answer specific questions or provide further clarification when asked, either in the form of a personal e-mail to the commenter, an update post on the topic or in my own comment for all to read. Hard to do that when I don’t who you are, so I’m doing it this way…. your very own post! 🙂

Anonymous, please don’t judge me or insult me on my own blog, but if you must don’t cowardly stand behind “Anonymous”. It’s really unbecoming. If you’re going to be negative, you should have the balls to use your name.

That is all. Thanks, again for visiting! I really do feel like I’ve arrived now.

xoxo

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Hey, I Know That Girl!

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Please visit my sister’s blog, LA ‘n’ LA for her story on how she ended up at Oprah’s Favorite Things Part 2 show.

One of Leah’s friends posted this photo, a freeze frame of her on the show that aired today. She looks pretty in pink, doesn’t she?


I am so jealous but very excited for Leah!!

“It’s not about the stuff. It’s about hope. It’s knowing that something really magical and joyful and wonderful can happen to you when you least expect it.” – Oprah Winfrey

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A Heart Of Gold

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Once again, I’m humbled by and grateful for the blogging world and appreciate all of the comments to my Ebony & Ivory post discussing my relationship with my younger sister, Leah. I especially appreciate those siding with her. It’s always good to get a new perspective.

Besides my parents, I have never known anyone else that had much younger sibling(s) or felt the burden and responsibility for them the way I have. Anyone that knows me well, knows that my relationship with my sister has always been a difficult one for me.

I believe that I worry about Leah more than sisters that are closer in age do because we are parent-less and that pressure and responsibility has only grown greater over the last three years. I am in NO WAY trying to be a replacement for our mother and father, but I feel as though it is my job to support, protect and advise her more than ever. What is annoying is when she doesn’t take my advice or has to hear it from someone else or dismisses me entirely by essentially saying that it’s her life and she can do whatever she wants.

She’s 100% right.

She’s 26. It is her life, but it’s still hard to witness. As her older sister, much like a mother would, I want to prevent her from hurting herself and it’s hard to stand by and let her grow up without trying to remove all the things that could cause her any harm.

I do not regret the post, but I wish that I had included a few very positive things about my sister; Leah has a heart of gold. She always has. She is warm and funny and does a lot of good. She is an excellent aunt to my son and a loyal friend to many. She is comfortable around strangers and can to talk to anyone about just about anything. She is struggling to find a job in a difficult industry and making ends meet in the process.

All I was trying to convey is MY need to rid myself of the self-induced pressure, stress and anxiety I feel as her older sister.

I have so many different roles right now and this is one that begs to be reexamined. For me and for Leah.

As you can imagine, shortly after I published the post, the proverbial shit hit the fan and even though I sent Leah the piece hours beforehand, she elected to wait until it was up on the site before commenting.

You can see that I immediately removed her response (the first time I have ever deleted a comment), but would like to share it with you now for what it’s worth:

As her sister, I feel it’s necessary for me to address this personally. I know that a lot of Tonya’s followers don’t know me so I think it’s important for me to speak up.

First of all, thanks Tonya for airing our dirty laundry. But I guess, free speech on this blog is more important than family and having a private talk with me.

Secondly, I’m sorry I’ve made you feel burnt out-this is exactly what a sister wants to hear from her big sister. I’ve never asked you to take on a parent role. But then again, isn’t that what sisters do for each other? They protect, they love, they defend, they care for, they advise, they do whatever is needed. This is sisterhood. I’m there for you and never ever would tell you that I was burnt out from it all. Yes, we are two very different people but I wouldn’t want it any other way. You are you and I am me. I think our gap in ages make us who we are. I see it differently than you. I don’t see our age differences as “detrimental” as you say.

I promise you that mom and dad would have never wanted you to take their place as my parents. I had two amazing parents that believe it or not, are still parenting from wherever they are now. I don’t need a third parent.

As for who I am and what you are portraying me on here, you make me sound a like a drug dealing, promiscuous partier who you need to save on a daily basis. Well, that’s just not me at all. I’m a 26 year old trying to find my place in the music industry in Los Angeles. It’s proving to be extremely difficult and I certainly could use all the support and encouragement I can get. But this is what I want and I don’t regret pursuing this.

I am a college graduate who happened to move in with a Pin-Up who needed help with her non-profit that helps hospitalized Veterans around the country. I fell in love with this project so I help her. Is this so bad?

I ran a half-marathon for AIDS, I’ve walked for breast cancer. Is this so bad? I went on three job interviews last week. Is this so bad? I watch my spending and even keep a detailed budget. I babysit/nanny 3-4 times a week to make some money and help families in need. Is this so bad? I have good people around me that also don’t do drugs or drink excessively. They are responsible, college educated, professionals. What about my life do you find so upsetting? What is there to be burnt out about?

I know you worry as my big sister. I get it. But you have to stop worrying so much. I don’t call you at 2 am, I think that was twice in college. Aren’t sisters supposed to text to say they landed safely, reply to numerous questions about growing up and other life lessons. What is wrong with all of this? I don’t get it. Is talking about all this with me really all that bad? If so, please let me know and we can talk about movies and the weather.

I don’t know… clearly I don’t get it. Honestly, I never actually thought we were all that different in the first place-not in the major ways anyway.

Since the post, Leah and I have had what I am sure will be the first of a series of conversations about improving our relationship. We are both hopeful. I have also promised her that I will never write about our relationship here again.

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Ebony & Ivory

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We learn to live, we learn to give each other what we need to survive together alive. – Paul McCartney


I’m burned out.

Firstborn, middle born, last born, only child, or twin.

How two people that come from the exact same parents can be so completely opposite of one another is baffling to me.

In my sister and my case, I blame our age difference.

For as long as I could remember, I wished for a little sister and then when I turned 11, my wish came true. And before you ask, my sister was completely planned; the 11 year age difference and everything. My mother even had her IUD removed in order to conceive her. TMI?

My parents were no strangers to age gaps; there were 13 years between my father and his eldest brother and eight between him and his middle brother. There were six years between my mother and her brother.

Whenever my parents were asked why they waited so long to have another child, the response was that they wanted to be more financially stable. Fair enough, I suppose. I didn’t care, I finally had what I had always wanted.

I remember every detail of the day my sister was born. It was magical and hectic and so exciting. Up until the birth of my own son, it was one of the best days of my life and nothing can compare to being old enough to witness the joy and pride in my parents over the new addition to our family. It was written all over their faces for the nine months leading up to Leah’s arrival and it was understood that our household would never be the same.

As I was entering high school, she was starting kindergarten.

As I graduated from college, she was struggling with her math homework.

As I was going through a divorce, she was buying a prom dress.

As I was busy building a career, she was trying to figure out what her major would be in college.

As I was a newlywed for a second time and she had just graduated from college, we both lost our parents.

As I was preparing to have a baby, she was trying to start her career.

It’s sad to think that our lives will never catch up to each other and while we may experience some of the same things years a part, it was only with the deaths of our parents that they were derailed at the exact same time. Only we know what it feels like to go through something like that. Our memories of our parents are different in some ways, but our love and loss is shared.

While Leah was in college, our parents still lived and worked overseas so I became, for lack of a better term, her surrogate mother. This is not a role that I have ever been completely suited for nor enjoy all that much.

Never the less, I answered the phone in the early morning hours, waited for the texts they said she landed safely, replied to the numerous questions about growing up, life after living under your parents roof and members of the opposite sex and offered advice, whether solicited or not over money management, career opportunities and portraying a positive, wholesome image. I did this through her four years of college and still do it now.

I’m tired of being the older sister.

I have my own child now.

I’m burned out.

Over the years we have shared many laughs and good times. We’ve gotten more than a little pissed off at one another, especially lately.

We are true sisters and I love Leah with all my heart.

After 26 years later, while I can’t imagine my life without my sister in it, I honestly believe that the 11 years between us has been detrimental and I can’t help but wonder how our relationship would be different, better even if we were closer in age.

My sister and I are in need of a long, heart-to-heart, an open, honest, most likely with raised voices, possibly four letter words and maybe even some tears conversation. I’m dreading it, but it’s overdue.

I feel a tremendous amount of pressure and responsibility.

I want to redefine my role.

I’m burned out.

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #1: Why are your burned out?

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Green With Envy

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I’m dying.

My sister is on her way to Chicago to be an audience member on the Oprah Winfrey Show!!

Her roommate, Gina contacted the show and submitted a piece on the person she most admires and was selected to be on the show. I’m not sure if she’ll actually be on the show, but she was invited to be in the audience because it’s a topic that Oprah is covering on Tuesday, November 16.

Gina’s inspiration is her grandfather Lou, a World War II Army Veteran and the reason behind her Pin-Ups For Vets calendar project. The nostalgic 1940’s pin-up style calendars feature Gina and are sold to raise money for hospitalized Veterans, personally hand delivered by Gina to VA hospitals across the country and also sent overseas to our deployed troops.

Pin-Ups For Vets is a noble and worthwhile cause and Gina is fantastic at what she does.

Since moving to Los Angeles in January, my unemployed sister has been able to help Gina with her plight and because Gina’s dear grandfather has passed away, she generously invited Leah to accompany her to Chi-town.

Now you know why I’m dying!

What I wouldn’t give to be in Oprah’s audience… especially this year, her last season of the show. And, for the record, I’m also a bit miffed that Leah doesn’t even like Oprah. You read that right and I know what you’re thinking, “Who doesn’t like Oprah?!?!”. Nobody!

I have been a HUGE fan for 25 years and Leah has always given me @#$% for worshiping her, recording her show daily and subscribing to her magazine.

I’ve never been to a Oprah Winfrey Show taping, but have had the pleasure of hearing Ms. Winfrey speak twice and saw her every year at BookExpo when I worked for a book publisher.

So there!

While I may be a green-eyed monster, I do sincerely hope Gina’s project is featured on the show.

Have fun, girls. Oh, and if this turns out to be the “Favorite Things” episode, in which O shares (gives) products with her audience that she feels are noteworthy or that would make a great holiday gift, I fully expect first dibs on any and all swag you bring home. I would love an iPad. I’m just sayin’. 🙂

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No Words

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Listening to all of the eloquent speeches on TV at the memorial service honoring San Diego police officer Chistopher Wilson last week, I realized nobody spoke at my parents memorial service.

We should have asked someone to say something.

Their deaths were so untimely and tragic that I’d like to believe that everyone in attendance was in just as much shock as we were.

After all, there were no words.

I should have said something though.

I really wanted to, but I just couldn’t make my legs stand up to walk to the front of the room.

Where were my words?

Talk about shocking, we only expected 10 people to show up and instead there were maybe 60. A pretty good turn out considering my parents died overseas and didn’t know that many people in Tucson.

We were pleased that my dad’s brothers and their wives and some of their children made the trip from Texas and I was comforted that my in-laws were there and felt nothing but loved when I saw my closet girlfriends. To this day, having them there with me on the darkest day of my life, is one of the kindest gestures I have known.

The obituary ran the same day, October 21, 2007 and my phone rang all morning. The service was held at 2:00 and people all over were finding out for the first time, yet I had known for seven days by then.

In those seven days, along with my sister and husband, we selected urns, chose photos for a montage, put together a CD of my parents favorite music, created the text for the program, edited the obituary and bought something to wear to the dreadful event.

I will never forget the shopping trip that Leah and I made to buy those dresses. We were numb and we didn’t care, so we chose the ugliest black dresses we could find knowing that while we may never get rid of them, we would never ever wear them again.

As soon as my husband saw them, he marched us right back to the mall to return them for more flattering ones. I am really glad he did that.

What would we have done without our voice of reason? There are no words to express my gratitude and love for Todd, who was an absolute rock throughout the entire process, not just that week, but for weeks and months to follow.

I wish I said something at the service.

There were no words, but still I should have gotten up and had the courage to, at the very least, thank everyone for coming.

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In Treatment

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I have been dreading writing about this because I haven’t got my head fully wrapped around it yet, so please bear with me and as always, any words of advice and/or comfort that you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

Shortly after my parents died, I was somewhat desperate to help my sister find a psychologist to help her with her grief and in the process contacted a doctor that I saw for a while leading up to and after my divorce from my first husband.

I still feel bamboozled by her receptionist when she asked me “what about you?”. To which, I of course replied, “what do you mean, ‘what about me’?”.

Before I knew it I was seeing the good doctor again once a week for almost a year, half a dozen times leading up to Lucas’ arrival and it’s now been eight months since my last appointment.

I need her again.

I am a big proponent of therapy. I believe working with a professional can help provide insight, support and new strategies for all types of life challenges. In the past it has helped me immensely and I am lucky to have a doctor that I trust and respect. Dr. K. is a family therapist and specializes in family and marital counseling, stress management and grief.

Since spring, I haven’t been myself and it’s time to do something about it.

I’m moodier than usual, short tempered, forgetful, disheveled, anxious and confused. I sound like a toddler, huh?

Depression is a real illness and while I have never been clinically diagnosed as “depressed”, I have a laundry list of reasons for why I might be. It could be because it’s October now, which is a hard month for being the anniversary of my parents deaths, if I’m, as I’ve shared before, still getting used to my (not so) new role of mother, if I’m struggling with my summer miscarriage, or more than likely a combination of all three and a bunch of other junk too. Whatever IT is, I don’t like feeling this way and I am anxious to get back in treatment.

I’m no good at “faking it” or keeping my feelings at bay. They come out in the strangest ways and don’t want my negativity to ever affect Lucas. Not to mention, I have too much goodness in my life to feel this way.

My first appointment is next week and I have two additional appointments after that. From time to time, when appropriate I’ll update you. In the meantime, your good thoughts are welcome. Let the self discovery and growth begin.

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This post was written for the word game, Word Up, Yo!hosted by the self proclaimed Nerd Mafia: Natalie (Mommy of a Monster), Kristin (Taming Insanity) and Liz (a belle, a bean and a chicago dog).


If you like words too, play along!
This week’s word is bamboozled.

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All Aboard

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Yesterday, I took Lucas to LA to spend the day with his aunt Leah and her friend Tracy, who was visiting from New York.

The four of us went to the famed Griffith Park and enjoyed Travel Town, an outdoor train museum.

Lucas is obsessed with trains right now and loved playing conductor, riding on the miniature railroad and seeing all the old retired locomotives, passenger cars and street cars on display.

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Not Just Another Three Days

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The 2010 Susan G. Komen San Francisco Bay Area 3-Day for the Cure began with an emotional Opening Ceremony on a foggy, windy morning at Cow Palace. From there we headed north into San Francisco and walked along the Great Highway with gorgeous ocean views. Some notable memories along the way included the “Manbulance” sweep van dancers, firemen out with their truck and the San Jose Bike Police supporting us along the route. The stairs on the steep coastal trail came up behind the Golden Gate Bridge as we walked through the Presidio to complete Day 1. After a long day of walking, we gathered at camp, our home away from home for the weekend.
We arose early on Saturday morning to another foggy day, ready to hit the trail. We walked across the Golden Gate Bridge (although we could barely see it through the fog). The Coast Guard came out at Fort Baker, with music, pink shirts, balloons and their dog. The sun came out for us in Sausalito as we headed up the coast for lunch. That evening, we gathered back at camp for a Candy Coburn concert.
We began our final day of walking in the rain, but the sun began to shine once we left the peaceful trails of the Presidio. We walked through Arguello Gate, into Golden Gate Park, passing the Conservatory of Flowers, the de Young Museum and the Japanese Tea Garden. Then we headed into downtown San Francisco to lunch at Mission Dolores Park with sweeping views of the city. Then it was into the Civic Center where the Oakland Fire Department had an impromptu dance party, and up into North Beach along Columbus Avenue. Our incredible journey ended with a celebratory Closing Ceremony at Marina Green.

A BIG HUGE GIGANTIC thank you to all my family and friends who donated to this amazing cause. Along with 1399 other walkers, you helped raise $3.7 million and I surpassed my personal goal by raising almost $2500! I also got to spend three memorable days doing something monumental to kick cancer’s ass in the process, along side my sister.

To read more about why I walk, please read my post Save The Ta-Tas.

While there are all ages, shapes, sizes and fitness levels on the course, walking 60 miles over the course of three days is not for the weak, in fact 50% of all participants don’t complete the full three days, so I am very proud of my sister and myself. We pushed ourselves to the limit and there were definitely many moments that I thought I couldn’t take one more step, but something…my inner stubbornness, my sister’s encouragement, an enthusiastic cheering station, or the cause itself kept me going and going and going.

Please visit Susan G. Komen for the Cure to find out more about this powerful event.

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