So Much Has Happened

There's been a lot going on in my life in the past few months. Y'all know I got engaged, and along with that came a new family, or rather integrating all those involved into a new family. Believe it or not the hard part isn't the kids. It's crazy, and amazing but the children get along great... with each other and with the new adult figure in their life.

It's just the adults (yes, I'm calling us that even though we aren't behaving that way) that are having problems dealing with one another. I'm not blaming him... and as soon as I wrote that I thought, "Oh yes, I am." I know I'm just as responsible as he is. BUT, (and this is a big BUT) at least I'm reading and working hard on trying to understand and make it work. Yeah, Yeah, I know. Your probably thinking CR so is he. REALLY?!?!? I don't think so.

Ya see he's coming from a long marriage. At least that's what I consider twenty three years of being with a spouse. And I think that along with that extended time period of living and dealing with one person he has come to expect me to understand or to respond and in some cases not respond to his behavior. Well, I don't work that way.

It was hard enough for me to get engaged and stay that way. I don't remember if I wrote about how I got sick to my stomach when Mr. Rose proposed. I felt like I was going to throw up or faint or both even though I knew he was going to ask me. And when we were planning the wedding I got that feeling a lot.

I really don't know how we even managed to get married. I was scared, picked fights, read things the wrong way, and was absolutely emotional. But somehow the day of the wedding arrived and I couldn't stop smiling. It most certainly wasn't like this the first time I did it. I was happy. AND I was relaxed. I had a great time.

The week before the wedding we saw each other. Not for seconds or just in passing, but spending the days together. All except for Shabbos. We even saw each other the night before when we set up the shul, and the morning of. He helped me get dressed. Thinking about it now, I know that if I had not been able to spend that time with him there would have been no way that we would have made it to the Chuppah. He made me feel secure and loved.

Yeah, yeah, I noticed that I wrote that in the past tense. Ya see, I'm not feeling that secure and loved anymore. Rather I'm feeling taken for granted, and ignored.

OK, OK, I know he just bought us a house and moved his family across the country, but we haven't even gone out on one date since we've been married and it's been over two months.

That hurts. And yes, I've told him. Yes, I've mentioned it to him gently, humorously, with teasing and with tears. But nothing has taken place. I've also told him that I don't need it to be fancy. I just want some time to feel special or rather that he feels I'm special.

I don't want him treating me a certain way just to have sex. And anyway, y'all know how I am, and that sex is a given... although, at this point...

I don't want to have to think about money, or the kids or anything. I want to be with him. Hell, I was even going to consider us going to Target a date until he started kvetching. I just wanted some time with him out of the house, out of bed, just the two of us.

So today, he went with his brother to lunch, just the two of them, and it hurt... bad. Not only that he didn't even bother bring me anything back. WTF.

Right now, I don't even want to go out with him. I'll tell you what I do want to do... no, maybe I won't, but I will tell you it involves a door slamming so hard behind me that it echoes in his ears for a long time. I can hear it in my head right now, the thought of it gives me satisfaction.

Of course, I know it's childish, but I want to hurt him back. I want him to understand just how alone I feel... how sad this makes me. I don't expect a perfect marriage, but I would still like to have a marriage. Right now, all I feel is that he wants me for his kids and sex, and that makes me not want him.

I don't need any stick it out advice. I need to vent, and boy, would I love to vent on him, but I'm trying my best to keep things in control.

The Name Of This Blog

Mak once asked me awhile back if I was ever going to change the name of my blog once I found Mr. Right. I still haven't come to a decision regarding that, but I have said yes to Mr. Rose.

He asked. I answered.

I love him.

There's so much more to say, and of course, I will. If I have the time, I'll continue to do so now. If not, you'll get it in bits and pieces as I plan for our wedding.

OMG!!!!!! I'm getting married to the most wonderful man I've ever met!!!!!!!

I Finally Did It

I forgot to tell y'all... I finally cut my hair!! (pictures coming soon... no, silly, not of me and my new hair cut, but of the two long braids.)

At least 15 inches came off into two braids. Then I got more chopped off during my haircut for a total of at least 20 inches. OK, I know that I've lost the guys attention (so what's the deal with guys and long hair anyway??), but I have bangs and it's in layers (short and choppy) and THE MAN loves it. He helped me finally get rid of the locks that were constantly knotting, always pulled back and doubled into a ponytail, and usually hid under a baseball cap.

He kept on encouraging me to get it cut even though he loves long hair because he knew how much it was irritating me. Work and DB keep me pretty busy, and with Yontiff my schedule was just insane. I was going out to visit him and a friend of mine (more on that later) suggested I use her guy. Believe it or not I actually scheduled an appointment AND WENT!! Not until after I walked into the place did I find out that Mr. Rose had already paid for my cut. HOLY MOLY!!! Who is this man???

Before I got the cut I warned him that I would probably cry afterwards. It's kind of traumatic to lose that much hair even if you want to, it's for a good cause, and it's been driving you bonkers. Also told him that I would probably hate my new hair cut, and the best thing for him to do was to constantly tell me that it looks great, he really likes it even if he thinks it's the ugliest thing, and even if I tell him that I know it's ugly or to stop saying those things to me. That's some advice for you guys too. That is if you can remember when she gets her haircut or actually notice it. OK, OK, that wasn't fair, but c'mon most of you never say anything and it doesn't matter if she covers her hair. The woman in your life would appreciate hearing something nice. OY! Didn't mean to give a shmooze. Sorry.

So he picks me up and I don't even want him looking at me. I'm fussing with my hair because the guy styled it towards my face and UGH!! I hate that!!! We get back home, and that's when the tears start. Of course, he's been telling me the whole ride how much he likes it and I've been telling him I don't and I know how horrible it is.

The mirror is calling as soon as I walk in the door and I'm trying to fix my hair so that even if I won't feel pretty at least I'll be a little happier. Then I realize that I don't have anything to use on my hair. Mr. Rose immediately suggests that we go out and get stuff. OMG!!! This man is just 'da best! CVS here we come. I spend about twenty minutes trying to find what I want, and they just didn't have it. BUT he buys me the some of the stuff I was looking at anyway!!! Makes you want to kiss him... and I did.

Later on we went food shopping so that I could cook for Shabbos and Yontiff and the 14 guests we were having for one of the meals, and there it was... my gunk. The stuff I put in my hair. He got a kick out of the name and I'm sure y'all will too... Bed Head. Kind of appropriate for me. Isn't it???

I was able to do my hair the way I like it and I was really happy with the hair cut, but the wonderful man kept on telling me that he loves the way it looks. I told him he didn't have to anymore and he said he wasn't telling me because he thought I needed to hear it, but because he thinks I look great. I know, I know, I'm not letting him go. He's not Mr. Perfect, but I'm not interested in perfect. I want him.

It's been a couple of weeks and I still like my hair so much so that I'm going to get it cut out by Mr. Rose from now on.

IMPORTANT!!! The reason I grew my hair and cut it.

I'm donating my hair to Zichron Menachem in Israel. They make human hair wigs for children who have lost their hair due to cancer

• Hair needs to be a minimum of 25 cm (10 inches) long - when braided.
• The hair should be tied with a rubber band at both ends - before it is braided and cut.

Braids should be sent (enclosed in a plastic or zip-lock bag) to:
Israel:
Zichron Menachem
P. O. Box 16383
Jerusalem, 91163

In the USA:

The Children's Bridge of Zichron Menachem
39 West 37th Street 3rd Floor
New York, NY 10018

In the UK:
The British Friends of Zichron Menachem
30 Brookside Road #306
London NW119NE

It Seems Like Forever

...that I haven't written. It's only been about three months. It also seems like it's forever since I met Mr. Rose. Y'all remember him. The man who was good to me, who is good to me... so good to me. I've never experienced in my life anything near what he has given me; in support, caring, understanding, patience, and most importantly love.

I feel safe and secure with him in so many ways. I trust him with my emotions and I also trust him to stick around. He is the first man that I've ever introduced to DB as someone I'm dating. Not only that I tell him I love him within DB's earshot, and he's seen me hug him.

Now that's a huge step. I can't begin to write how my life has changed since he's become a part of it. UGH!!! That sounds so, actually most of this post sounds so, so ummmm.... so mushy, so lovey dovey, so grossifyingly sweet. It's just got to stop.

OK, so let's talk about fighting. I've had a couple disagreements with him. I've also pulled away from him... very far away. And he's still hung around. He wouldn't let me run away from him, but he gave me the room I needed to come back. This man is unbelievable. OK, OK, I've started gushing again. Yes, it's ridiculous.

The funny thing is that I never would've picked him for me. I mean c'mon he's about 11 years older, he lives in a different city, and before I started dressing him... well, he just didn't care that much. Yes, he dressed neatly. And yes, he wore clean clothes, but he dressed plainly. You could tell that he hadn't really bought anything for himself in quite some time. So, his daughter and I had fun together and got him some shirts and ties, pants, cashmere sweaters (so yummy to cuddle up to when he's in them, and yes he's yummy to cuddle up to when he's not in them {take that as you will}) a nice pair of cashmere lined leather gloves for Shabbos, a cashmere scarf, and a new suede hat.

He looks good!!!! And he also smells good. I told him how I like cologne on a man, and he went out to get some. Then he wrote a little screenplay about his search for the right scent. He's smart, witty, and knows what to say to me (in many different ways). He's the man! My man.
In case you can't tell, I've got it bad for him.

Oh! Forgot to tell you about the jewelry he gave me for my b-day, how my family loves him, how he sticks up for me, and how comfortable DB is around him.

Every time he reminds me of how long we've been dating (it was just our 4 month anniversary), we laugh because it seems like we've been together forever, even if it's such a short time and yet we look back and realize how far we have come.

Yes, he is the one who's been keeping track. I still get roses. He cleans my apartment and peels 10 lbs. of potatoes without a single complaint. HE DOES THE FREAKIN' DISHES!!! WOW!!! and believe me the man is not pussy whipped. He has a mind of his own and a strength that just attracts me to him like you wouldn't believe.

Don't really want to get into our sex life. OMG!!!! Can you believe that I'm writing that?!?? Me, Miss My Bed Is An Open Book. But it's personal. Whoa!!! I get freaked out sometimes in this relationship. I can't believe the things I now say and do. Anyway, I'll write more later. just wanted to update and let some of you know what's going on in my life. Plus I might want to one day look back and read this with him and laugh and laugh!

My Ghost

My thoughts are filled with him. I see someone smile and think of his eyes twinkling. I hear a horn honking and think of him driving. My phone rings and I hope he is calling.

I live with music and every song I hear connects me to him. I can't get away from him. There is nowhere to go to escape his sweet deep voice and rumbling chuckle.

Even my dreams are filled with him... so real that when I wake I'm reaching for him.

He haunts me with his soothing words and chains me to him by the teasing names he calls me.

I miss him but he is not gone from my world.

Fun In Kansas

We went to the lake, and did some fishing and paddle boating. DB was the self-appointed captain, first mate and quarter-master "because I've seen all the pirate movies." When he announced this, Saba was trying his very best not to laugh out loud. I would love to take DB out sailing then he can really be captain.

He's turning out to be a really good fisherman and has the next spot he wants to try all picked out. His casting is so natural now, and he's at the point that he's ready to bait his own hooks. I can't wait until he does then I won't have to cut the nightcrawlers and put the hook through them... not the most pleasant of responsibilities.

We had a barbecue and did some swimming at a cousin's pool.

DB is exhausted, but happy. The only thing that didn't quite work out was that he wanted to take home the yellow perch we caught... not to eat them, but to keep them as pets. He even went all by himself and asked the park ranger, who told him it was fine. OY!!! That made it so much harder for him to put them back in the lake.

We finally convinced him that they would be dead by the time we got them into an aquarium. There were tears from DB, but he said good-bye. Then he promised them that next time he would bring a bucket to carry them home in, and have the aquarium ready and waiting.

Jake and Jack... DB's catch and good friends.

A Passing Afternoon

Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

There are times that walk from you
Like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn
But the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away
Like our endless numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe
In the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls it's children from their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass
All our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children until she lets them go at last
And she's chosen where to be
Though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall
Blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers
Rolling around the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea
Only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the window closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes
And they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

Dirty Clothes

Does laundry ever end???? I'm getting kind of tired.

Summer Nights

It's warm out tonight. The sky isn't that dark yet. It's all blue, a light sky color, to royal, to a deep midnight blue. It's part of my favorite time of night. I love the color blue. The stars are out and I recognize Orion in the familiar place it takes in the summer sky at this time of year.

I used to have a hammock, and in the warm weather instead of sitting on the glider in DB's room and reading his bedtime stories, he would lie cuddled next to me on it under the stars with the three books chosen for that night. When it was really warm out we would go out with his hair still wet from his bath and it would keep us both cool. Once or twice he fell asleep while we did this, and I just stayed there for an hour or two looking up at the stars feeling content that my darlin' boy was peaceful and next to me.

I hadn't thought about this for awhile. DB is bigger now. He doesn't fit that well on my lap when I'm on the glider so we read in his bed. The stories are also different; The Count of Monte Cristo, The Last Of The Mohicans, but Dr. Seuss hasn't left the group quite yet, although Green Eggs And Ham, and Hop On Pop have.

I know that if DB weren't dyslexic I wouldn't be reading him any bedtime stories at all. That's about the only good thing that I can see in him being dyslexic. There are times now when he wants to "read" something on his own, and the occasions that I sing to him our repertoire of lullabies are also decreasing.

He's growing up... beautifully. I remember the day I walked into his room in the morning and he was standing up for the first time holding onto the crib rails with a big grin of accomplishment on his face. It took me all of a minute to grab my camera and record it for posterity, but I didn't really need to. Closing my eyes, I can still see that sweet face smiling at me.

His manners are also improving. I wrote improving, after all he is a boy and a child, but yesterday I didn't need to remind him to hold open the door for Bubbi and to say thank you. We stopped in a gallery and DB stood talking to the owner about Chagall, texture and color and how he paints. He is so grown up for a little munch, but the next moment he was discussing who is a stronger alien in the cartoon Ben 10 (tv show he watches with his dad), and acting out what the character does.

He's a special boy, and I'm so lucky to be his mom. I hope all you other mom's (including mr. moms) enjoy your children and have a Happy Mother's Day.

Becoming Jane

Happy endings can be written
but not lived with the passion
and yearning for their life together

Alone in the future with words for company
each story ending with love
while her own must continue without
not willing to hurt him through his family

Doing what is right and necessary
Instead of what is wanted
For a love never to be lived
but imagined and dreamt
Created with characters

each one, him
each hero, him

because her thoughts are full of him
and the only way to rid herself of them
is to give them to others
as she has given him to others

Everyday, every night
She remembers his behaviors and tones
With a smile on her face.
Hoping that he is happy
That what she has lost
He has gained without her

She was never erased
Always a reminder
In a name of a beloved child

It does not still the beating of her heart
or dry the tears on her soul

He has not forgotten


If only he had,
then perhaps one day she will.

She Wouldn't Listen Anyway

I just found out that DB's dad, my ex, got engaged the last days of Pesach. While I am very happy for this occurrence I do feel bad for her. If I felt it would do any good, I would tell her the reasons why I wanted a divorce and that she should protect herself and her children and run very fast and far away.

I like her. She's sweet and treats DB nicely which is extremely important. It sounds like she comes from a nice family because her parents also treat DB well. I just feel so bad for her children and worry about their safety like I worry about DB's when he's with his dad.

It would be nice to think that the ex has changed, but because of his recent behavior I know that isn't so.

Very Talented

Y'all know that I'm talented at hurting myself in weird ways. What I haven't told you is that I'm very talented at making a mess too. My mother used to and still does call me a tornado. When I was growing up she was constantly telling me, "Why can't you be neat like your brother?" Ugh! If anything, that pushed me in the opposite direction of what she wanted. Max is my younger brother and just hearing that I should be like him was a blow to my ego. Plus the fact that he would rub it in my face later on.

Another reason I balked at cleaning my room was because my mom would tell me to do it. When someone tells me to do something that is a sure indication that I won't. I know that it's not the most mature behavior and I'm working on it. I just respond better to being asked. Of course she probably did ask me repeatedly, and when that didn't work she had to tell me to do it.

I would turn around and glare at her. "It's my room. Why can't I keep it the way I like?!!!!" I would stomp my feet as hard as possible up the steps to let her know my displeasure and then slam my door. I'd turn up my music loud enough to annoy her, but not quite loud enough to have her come to my room and yell at me to turn it down. I made sure that she was able to hear the words and I played the hell out of my Pink Floyd, The Wall tape.

I am laughing as I hear her voice in my head telling me not to speak to her that way. I say the same thing to DB when he uses those words to tell me he prefers to have everything he owns on the floor. And I realize that those many times I stormed up those stairs might have contributed to the creaks in them.

My mom finds it very funny that DB can destroy a neat room in the same amount or possibly even less time than I could/can. I know that she's thinking payback. But I get the last laugh when DB and I go to Kansas for Shabbos. We leave a wake in our trail as soon as we walk in the door... at least, now I clean up without her telling me too.

Can You Think For Yourself?

Do you know how to think for yourself? Do you know how to question? Do you even know what questions to ask? Have you asked them? Have you been able to answer them for yourself?

Have you taught your children to think and not just to accept? Are you willing to listen to their questions? Have you made yourself accessible so that they will feel comfortable coming to you with their questions? Are you willing to admit to them that you don't have all the answers?

I'll probably continue this post another time. Just felt the need to get it out.

Easy

He makes it easy... easy to talk to, to tell him things I've never told anyone... easy to laugh and cry with, easy to care about, and easy to write about. There's a comforting warm feeling that I get in my chest when I think of him. It's contentment.

Anyway, remember that I wrote two nights ago that it's hard not to be able to call him anytime I would like and most especially to say good-night. He called me late last night to specifically say goodnight to me. I fell asleep while dreaming of being in his arms, hearing his deep sweet voice and with a soft smile on my lips.

What I'm trying to say is that he listens to me, and then tries to make me happy. I don't have to shout things from the mountain top to get his attention. He's standing right there next to me in the clouds.

Yes, I like to dream. I like to hope for better things... for safety, happiness, love, and it's easy to do this with him around. Don't get me wrong. I'm also realistic, which does make the dreaming difficult at times. There are no guarantees in life. I won't make any promises, and I HATE it when people try to promise me something. I guess today is a day for cliches so here comes another one. Promises are made to be broken.

Tell me you will try your best. I will take you at your word and understand if something doesn't quite work out the way you said it was going to. But just don't promise me anything. The disappointment that I feel when the promise is broken carries over into my not being able to trust you in the future.

It's kind of obvious that I've been promised things before or maybe not even promised just told that things would take place and I've been let down. The worst thing about it is that I get angry at myself too when this happens. I blame myself for trusting someone's word again. It makes me feel stupid, not just hurt.

Oh, no! I said the "S" word. It's a word that we don't say in our family. When DB gets really angry or upset he sometimes shouts "I JUST WANNA SAY THE "S" WORD!!!" Of course, I'm trying my very best not to burst out laughing when he does this.

He's too cute, and he would be infuriated to know that I called him that. He's getting older and wants to be cool. I've caught him a couple of times looking at himself pose in the mirror... turning his baseball cap around, crossing his arms over his chest, slouching a little and putting his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't realize that the fact that he sticks up for his friends, and also doesn't let them walk all over him make him pretty cool just as he is... sure do love the darlin' boy. And I really do like the darlin' man.

Babies

I love to be around them, love holding them and when you lean down to kiss them smelling that oh-so-sweet fresh baby smell, a mixture of baby shampoo, baby powder and soft baby skin.

Obviously, I have spent some time with babies this past week, and this afternoon giggle baby and I spent some time laughing together. He's just a mush, and a delicious cuddle bug. He's very smart, and loves to joke around, if you can imagine a little one not yet two, playing jokes.

His eyes get big and there's a mischevious glint in them. That in and of itself makes me laugh and then he pretends that he cannot find me just like I sometimes do with him. It is very difficult to be sad, upset or even serious when you are holding a smiling small person in your arms. Maybe that's why I've always loved children.

Sesame Street Part Two

I had meant to write this the same day that I finished part one, but obviously that didn't take place. Then while I was cleaning the house on Thursday I heard a familiar voice. Very funny! No, it wasn't in my head. Although, I will admit that I do talk to myself quite often. This voice came from the tv that was on in the living room. It was a commercial about asthma medication and there she was, Gina. That's how most of you would know her.

"Gina" is the veterinarian on Sesame Street, and one of the three actors from the show that I have met. Our children played at the same park when they were younger. The first time I met her I knew that she looked familiar, but I couldn't place her until I heard a little boy screaming that he wants his Elmo. He had buried it in the sandbox and couldn't find it. Then it dawned on me, and I turned to a mother next to me and said, "Isn't that..." "Yes, it's Gina from Sesame Street." I hadn't even had a chance to finish my question.

She wasn't surrounded by children or their parents. I don't even think the kids thought of her as someone other than another child's mom. I didn't get to know her too well, but she was always friendly and down to earth. She played in the sand, changed diapers and bought ice cream just like the rest of us. DB was a year older than her kids and at that age it made a big difference. So our kids played near each other but not together. Though there were times when DB would share his toy cars.

I haven't seen her around the neighborhood in quite a long time so I don't know if she still lives nearby. But I have seen her on bit parts on Law & Order, and in a commercial or two. Gina is still a regular on Sesame Street, and she looks exactly like the mom I knew in the park.

A Friend's Letter

A friend of mine lives in Israel with his family. Here is part of an e-mail he wrote to me this morning.



It's so sad here, CR. I've been listening to the funerals on the radio this morning. Heartbreaking - tear-rending. Crying mothers and fathers and teachers.

Two of the boys were Yoni's age (15). He listened with me, and we held our hands together for a few minutes with his head on my shoulder as they spoke of the irony of bringing in the month of Adar in joy, while we cry over this massacre of these young, idealistic men - they were the best of the best, CR. Most of the others weren't much older than Yoni, either. It hit home.

It's like, I wanted the journalists to stop - to take the microphones away from the parents. I wanted them to stop recording the parents crying. I wanted them to leave them to their pain. I don't know if it was because of how hard it was for me - maybe it's because of that, that I felt it must be hard for them. I could feel it.

No Words

Baruch Dayan Haemes

I have no words for what took place today except that I'm glad that no matter what's going on in my life right now, I can still hug my child.


Prof K eloquently writes about every parents' worst fear.

Swinging

Get your mind out of the gutter!! I'm talking about playgrounds. Last week I went with a friend and our children to a park. It was so much fun. I think I might have had as good if not a better time than the kids did.

The first place the munchkins headed was to the swings, and I was the designated pusher while my friend was on the phone trying to get a date. As soon as he hung up, I jumped onto an available swing and stayed there for at least a half hour. I only stopped swinging to take off my jacket. It was about 50 degrees out maybe a little more, and all that pumping and pushing was getting me hot even though I didn't have my shoes on. One had fallen off while I was flying through the air, and instead of stopping my fun to get it I just kicked off the other one.

I guess it looked like I was having a good time because my friend got on the swing next to me and away we went. When I looked over the playground it seemed that almost all the adults and some of the older children thought we were the main attraction, and I guess we were because of how far up we were able to get.

There was just no way that I was going to let him swing higher than I could. My stomach did little turns that made me giggle when I was at the peak of the swing and I came out of the seat a little. It felt like free fall. My laughter didn't stop there. I was just having so much fun and felt so alive that it would spontaneously burst out of me with a big grin on my face accompanying it.

I did get off the swings (reluctantly) when children were waiting for their turns, but only by jumping off. It was too bad that there was a fence because then I would have tried to jump off with the swing higher and higher in the air just like I did in fourth grade.

The next best thing to swinging is playing "run around." When you chase children and they run away from you yelling and screaming with big smiles on their faces while looking back to make sure that you're coming to get them. It all started with some crinkly, dry leaves and a child who decided that I would look great wearing them on my head. The children were trying to get them into my clothes, and I was just trying to make sure that my clothes were still covering my body. Only then did I ask my friend if it had been possible for people to see up my skirt while I was on the swings. He told me no because he had tried and didn't get to see anything. Of course, I couldn't stop cracking up at that.

We stayed in the park until the shadows were getting longer and the air turned colder. There was a part of me that wanted to stay until the park closed. That was when the adult took over and I left the child behind on the swings, but I took the smile and laughter with me.

Not Your Average Bear...

Boo Boo.

Okay, let's clarify. I'm not your normal girl/woman, Bais Yaakov or otherwise. I can hear you guys saying, "Yeah yeah, CR, tell us something new." But I just want to let you know that as far as I remember I was always like this.

I was the only girl in my school whose parents were divorced. I was the only girl in my school who read science fiction, and the fact that I took the SATS in seventh, eighth and ninth grade didn't help me fit in either. But the most distinguishing characteristic of all that separated me from the other girls, was that I had no relatives living in Oz.

I really felt the pain of being different when I was in eighth grade. I tried to fit in so desperately, but it just didn't work out the way I wanted. Towards the middle of that year I came to the realization that I was going to be happy with who I was, and friends with everyone. When the cool girls were friendly and wanted to hang, we did; when they didn't, I hung around with the "nebby" girls, the "spazs", the "brains", and girls in the older and younger grades. That doesn't really sound right. What I mean is that if someone just wanted to be my friend it automatically meant that she was.

I went to B'nos, Bnei Akiva, and NCSY. To all you smart asses out there, No, I didn't go to Pirchei, but I had some buds who did. I finally did find a crowd of my own, but I still didn't feel 100% accepted. I guess no one really does, but when you're a teenager the only person that you think is suffering is you.

I was speaking with a friend tonight, and we were talking about how people in her family think about her. That conversation brought the past back to me, and it hurt to hear the pain in her voice. I'm very lucky that my family never cared what I did. Well, yes they did, but what I mean was they never cared if I was different. Maybe that's because my family is so diverse and yes, strange. They only were concerned if you didn't follow your heart not if you followed the norm.

Accepting people for who they are without judging is now an intrinsic part of who I am. I'm trying to pass this along to DB and it makes me proud to see through the different children that he has chosen as friends that he is already internalizing this trait.