Welcome!!!

For those of you who don't know, my friend (and probably yours too) Beth had a beautiful baby boy August 21st.

I am biased towards Weston of course, but isn't Luc one of the cutest baby boys you've ever seen?

"I never had better friends than the friends I had when I was twelve." -Stand By Me

When someone is important to you, you remember almost everything. But the one thing you never forget is when you first met them.

For example, it was surreal when I found out I was pregnant. It was something that I had wanted for so long, but when it actually happened it didn't seem real. Obviously, I'm not supermodel thin, so I didn't think I looked pregnant until the day before Weston was born. I actually thought he was a girl, and up until the moment that idiot woman blurted out, "... here's the spine and the kidney, and it's a boy...." I had no clue that my child could have a penis. I thought someone had made a mistake because there was no way that my first baby was supposed to be a boy. I obviously had a hard time adjusting. But I can tell you the first time I "met" him. It wasn't when the "bubbles" turned into actual movements around 22 weeks, it was 2 days after exclaiming, "It's a WHAT?" to that idiot nurse. We were shopping in Chicago and we stepped into FAO Schwartz at Macy's. The first thing I saw was a room sized dragon. A Dragon! My sister threw a pen and I caught it. Left handed. Everywhere I looked were tiny little boy things - Cubs outfits, tiny shoes, snow balls made from the Lake-effect snow. These were signs. Chicago, Macy's, FAO Schwartz... they were all telling me that my magical, miracle baby was meant to be a little boy. In that moment, he became real, he became Weston. And I have known him ever since.
I can remember my first real meeting of every important person in my life, other than my siblings and family. I met Scott in a bar, and he barely looked at me - he just stared into his plate stealing glances up at me once in a while, but that moment changed my life forever. I met Sue during the first days of high school, she was a friend of Beth's and just blended in with us. She may have blended then, but she has shone as a friend and stood out ever since. The first time I saw Beth, we were ten years old. I was picked up at Horace Mann Elementary for 5th grade band. We travelled north, past my house, to Elijah Buell to pick up more kids. And on the bus comes this girl with all of this hair. Tons of perfectly curled strawberry-blond hair billowing all around her like an angel. She barely smiled, and I felt a little intimidated by this perfectly coiffed ten-year-old. She quit the flute after a year, but we were friends by the time we met up at Lyons Middle School the next year. We fought all through middle school, but had merged as the Alpha female duo in high school. It wasn't perfect, we fought like feral cats for years, but I know that I can call her anytime and she'll be there.
I remember the first time I spoke to Anousha. We were 11 years old and in the 6th grade. We shared a homeroom teacher, Mrs. Maxa, and we sat about 4 rows apart. When we switched rooms to Mrs. Streba (Lyons had us switching rooms and teachers for different lessons to get us ready for high school.) Anousha ended up sitting in front of me. She had very dark wavy hair almost to her waist, pulled up in a barrette in the front. She turned around and we started talking. Somehow we got on the topic of families, and she told me about her older sisters, who were married and had kids... it seemed so fantastic. I was a little jealous of this life completely different from mine. (And by Clinton standards, the fact that I was a Navy Brat was a little outlandish itself.) We were friends. We all hung out together, gradually whittling down the big gaggle of girls into smaller cliques. By high school it was down to 5 or 6 girls, and somehow Anousha and I had paired up. Maybe it was our love of soap operas, Antonio Sabatto, Jr. and the X-Files. Who knows. But at some point this girl, completely unlike me - I was chubby/fat, pale and outspoken; she was skinny, exotic and well-spoken - ended up as close to me as my sister. She was the first person I thought to call whenever I had something to say. I loved her parents, her little sister; I loved being at their house at all hours. Almost every memory I have of 1991-1998, and most of my best memories until 2002 have these 3 women in them, and Anousha is in every single one. Maybe that's why I can't give up on any one of them (though Sue has never given me reason to think I should.)
After sophomore year of college, Beth drifted off. She wasn't lost. She was just busy and not the best communicator when left to her own devices, she will be the first to admit this. She was awful at email, while I embraced the technology and Sue bought stock in Hallmark greeting cards. Anousha was best at the phone. Once you got a hold of her, the phone was busy for hours. I used to buy calling cards dedicated just to her calls. After college, things stayed the same way, except Sue had taken over the technological world, and Anousha seemed to have found a love for letters.
Then... we all started to leap in different directions completely. Beth married, graduated law school, and moved to Delaware. Sue started looking for new opportunities in distant lands and eventually ended up in Amarillo. I fell in love with Scott and got married. And Anousha? She leapt all the way to California. LA. I was jealous of her again, of all of them. They had the courage to leave everything and start fresh. But I made a choice. I chose personal happiness over a career. That's my choice. I have my family and I love them dearly. but some days I wonder what it would be like to have moved away and had the Big Career or the Big City.
Beth and Sue kept up their usual contact. It was reliable and comfortable. Anousha, on the other hand, was anything but predictable. We would go for months talking daily or weekly and then nothing. She would stop all together. No email, calls or letters. It would last a few weeks and then it would start up again. It would be a little awkward and then everything would go back to normal. It went on like this for a long time. And then, the breaks in conversation turned into months. But she always came back. Apologetic, but back. When I got pregnant, things seemed to go back to normal. We talked a lot. She met Shannon and I in Chicago on that long ago weekend when I "met" my son in toy department with a room sized Dragon. She was a constant during those 40 or so weeks.
And then Anousha stopped returning my calls the 2nd or 3rd week of September 2008. It was about 2 weeks before our 10-year high school reunion and Weston was 6 weeks old. Weeks later I heard from her sister Erika that her car had broken down and that was why she couldn't make the trip back to Iowa. She never told me this. She just didn't show. Sue and Beth couldn't make it back. I was alone. And it was fine... almost fun. It would have been more fun had any of them been there, but we're adults, I get it. Shit happens. We received baby gifts (with the best wrapping paper!) and Christmas presents from Anousha, each containing notes. But no response to phone calls. Via text we agreed that the I'd call on Christmas. She didn't answer and I spent a long time talking to her parents. And then I cried. I missed my friend. I couldn't afford to send gifts. Had she returned a call, she would have known this. It's been a year now. I've sent emails. I've texted and I've left voicemails - Some heart-wrenching and some so angry that I couldn't contain them any longer. I have needed a friend more this year than any year in my life since 1989. And the one person who was as close to me as my sister was not there. I couldn't find her. And she wouldn't even let me know where to look. It felt like a funeral.
(I would like it to be known that I still talk to her sister, Erika. Just because Anousha has cut me out, does not mean I have to give up her family. I grew up with them too.)
So... after a year, imagine my surprise when my sister Shannon tells me that Anousha accidentally called her on Sunday. (I wonder if Anousha told her that she never meant to talk to her at all?) They talked for a while, almost a half hour. And according to Shannon, after 5 minutes of awkwardness, everything went back to normal. Anousha doesn't call me (or our other friends), because as she told Shannon, there's nothing new to tell. Ok... but what about the other conversation? What about the, "Hi. My life is the same, what's new with you?" or "You're last message sounded a little off, are you ok?" or even better, "I went to this Awards party with Erika and you'll never believe who touched my shoulder at the bar!" Any of this would work. Shannon gave Anousha 24 hours to make contact. Obviously she failed. again. And Shannon forgot to tell me. Because... we've been busy. And because Shannon knew it would hurt my feelings. You'd think I'd be over her by now. But I'm not. I am so mad. And lonely. This one person who used to fill a spot in my life jumped ship. And because everyone else fits so perfectly, there's this gaping hole where she used to be. I heard a rumor that Anousha reads my blog. I wonder what she will think of this. Will it move her to call me? Probably not. Will she reevaluate her life? I don't know or care. I've never cared what a person's career was or how they were getting to where they wanted to be. I only cared that they were happy and healthy. Because they were my friends, and as a friend, all I ever wanted for them was happiness. I was told that I should write an obituary or eulogy for my friendship with Anousha. That since she had decided to end it, I should follow her lead and let her go. And I had started it, thinking closure was the healthiest thing for me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't give up. I'm a masochist thriving for punishment and pain and begging my sister from another family to get her shit together and call her friend!

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out."

Postscript: I didn't write this to offend anyone. I am upset with this entire situation. I am not apologizing by any means. I have a right to my feelings and how I deal with them. I am just tired of holding everything in. I needed to air the laundry, clean and dirty. I don't feel much better, but I do feel like I have said all that I can on this now. I can hear my little boy fast asleep in his room and I need to wish him good night.

GO HAWKS!!!

Iowa plays Iowa State tomorrow in Ames. Bet you can't guess who I'm going for?
After 68 years of trying, I'm the one who scored a t-shirt day at the Onthank Company. Yeah, I rocked with a Show Your Iowa Pride Potluck and Office decorating. And the President of the University of Iowa just happened to come in today. We rock. But there were Cyclone fans here too. Oh well, no one's perfect!

We're headed to Clinton this weekend to watch the big game with Shannon and Nathan and his girls. Can't wait to see the girls! And Weston and Zoey playing together is hilarious!
And then we are going to a wedding celebration for my cousin Tara. Family everywhere! Should be fun. I'll bring details back Monday since my parents do not have 21st Century technology known as the Internet. :)
Have a great weekend!

*** ADDENDUM *** The Hawkeyes slaughtered the Cyclones. 35-3. It wasn't much of a game and I slept through some of the middle. But it was fun family time with Weston and Zoey playing together.

Grief

I was about 7, so the summer of 1987. Grandma was pretty healthy here. We all were... look at those tans! We were visiting Clinton for the summer then. We lived in Pensacola, Florida at the time.

My Grandma died 20 years ago today, September 9, 1989. Last year I spent this entire day marveling over my almost 6 week old baby. I cried about how he would never know my Munga (the name I came came up with that meant everything Grandma.) She was the best grandma and a little girl's best friend.

I am surprised that I actually still feel so raw inside. I cry at the thought of her. The amount of physical pain this loss still causes never fails to amaze me. It hurts to breathe. When my mind wanders today, my hearts races and my chest tightens. The tears overflow and I cannot stop them, no matter how hard I try. It's like an anxiety attack. I am overwhelmed.
And it's been 20 years...

When I pray, I pray to God first, then I pray to my grandma to put in a good word for me. When I feel that all is lost, I pray only to her. When we were trying so hard to have a baby, I asked her over and over if it was meant to be and would she please try and help.

If I feel like this, I wonder how my mom manages to get through everyday.

I only hope that Weston has his Grammy longer than I had mine. I know that he loves her as much as I loved mine. The thought of us losing my mother is more than I can bear.

I have often been told that I resemble my Grandma in many ways - we have the same lips, tend to chew our food the same, squint our eyes when we smile. She used to tell me that my nose was like a little ski slope (as she "ski'd" right off it with her index finger.) And I remember her calling me "Pumpkin."

Mary Jane Smith, about 7 or 8 years old, so around 1936 or so.

Around the age of 18 or 20, she wasn't generally this serious as a grandma, but I know that her childhood was not easy and that she wasn't able to go to school after the 8th grade because she needed to work. I always remember her as being incredibly smart. She knew everything and always helped with homework, etc. I like to think I was a precocious 9 yr old, but she always kept me on my toes!

Kissing my Grandpa on the Front Porch... I don't know if they were married yet, but they were in love. And they loved each other until they died. My grandpa, Harold Stahl, was 52 (or 53) when he died of a heart attack. I never knew him, nor was he able to meet my dad, but thanks to my mom and Grandma, I always felt like we knew him.

Me and Munga on the USS Saratoga, my Dad's ship (around 1986 I think.) We got to go on a voyage once. It was pretty cool. She looks a little beaten up here. This round of chemo took her hair and it was too windy for the wig.
Cancer is a real bitch.

Go HAWKS!

We had a wonderful weekend. More to come later, I promise. But here's the gist: We started in Cedar Rapids with the family; had a date day on Saturday at the Iowa-UNI game (Weston enjoyed his grandparents and Aunt & Uncle) and then we picnicked with Shannon on Sunday at Easter Lake. Here are the game day pics that I have from my phone:

The Hawkeye Train... it's awesome! It's a double-decker train that speeds from Coralville to a ditch by Kinnick Stadium, on one side is Coraville, on the other is corn. It only took 8 minutes and was super easy and is now my very favorite way to travel in IA City.
This was obviously our first visit inside Kinnick. It was a blast. After this picture, I had Scott hold the camera up. His arms are longer, thus I look better.

This is full Stadium at Half Time during The IA band show... look how nice their formation is. It was obviously "Wear Gold" day... I didn't get the memo.

I ran into someone at Scheels in the Coralville Mall. It was abrupt and hilarious and awkward and I told Scott all about in line checking out. I will definitely give more details another time.

"No one can make you feel inferior without your Consent."
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Oh Hell Yes they can!

I had a Conference Call Meeting today at noon with the 17 North American distributors for DuPont (Corian) and DuPont's Andrea. I take these calls in the back conference room where it is very quiet and there are no prying eyes. I am by far the youngest on these calls. They are managers and vice presidents while I am merely a Purchasing Agent who is also on the order desk, who also does billing and graphic design. So, while I feel inferior over my age and inexperience every single call, I have gradually been getting over these problems. Until today. Today I am early for the call (a first!) and I have my notes, my pen and my Diet Coke (all set!) So, we get on and basically do a roll call. Then we go over the agenda (we're all on "Mute" so we can do other things too, like paint my toenails - which I did! Hey- when else am I sitting still anymore?) As we move into the first topic, I start to notice that Andrea from DuPont keeps saying things like, "This graph shows..." and "Do you see what I am referring to?" Oh, CRAP! She's got visual aids and they are all somehow seeing things that I am not! I am a moron, how did this happen?!?!?! So, I call my friend, Adam, our IT guy, on my cell while listening to the conference call. I have him open up my computer in my cubicle and pull up all of Andrea's emails. Were there any graphs or visuals on these emails? "Nope," he says. Are there any links? "Nope. Sorry," he says and then he goes to lunch. So here I am, listening, taking notes, but not seeing what they are seeing.

I felt like a complete phony who was about to get caught any minute.

The meeting takes an hour. I've been frantically taking detailed notes of the things I am not seeing for over 45 minutes now.

My boss Don, the VP of Surfaces, finally returns to the office. I rush in to take a seat on his 2nd hand 1960's office chair (I love this chair. It's very Mad Men sitting in front of the big boss' desk. Oh, and it's comfortable too.) Don assures me that I am capable and adult enough to do my job, and that, No, I cannot quit because then he'd have to quit. (This about the 4th time in a year that Don has told me that he cannot work here without me.) I tell him that he had better find us new jobs, because I cannot handle feeling inadequate. (I don't think he is taking my inadequacy seriously today.) So, we discuss the issues at hand, determine that we should stop our discussion and move to owner David's office and start the discussion over. It is then determined that Adam the IT guy and I should find a report in our system to assemble a list of products ranked by the amount sold within a 12 month period. We do. It works. The bosses are positively thrilled with this report.

And finally, after 2 hours, the meeting and all of the immediate issues that followed it are all tucked away. I can finally calm down and return to breathing at a normal person's level and my heart rate has slowed and I no longer feel anxious and jittery. (I get anxious and jittery and absurdly hyper whenever i feel overwhelmed or nervous. It's a continuing issue with me.)

I need a Martini (vodka, shaken with 3 olives) just to recover today.

Justified Road Rage.

Driving behind an annoying-as-hell Bosnian couple who are going 30mph in a 45 in Ankeny and just caused me to miss my left turn. Slouched so far down in their ghetto Altima that his giant sunglasses are the only thing visible above the steering wheel! Ugh!