when you let dad dress a kid on fieldtrip day...

I am going to admit to you right now I am cracking myself up just thinking about this.  Years ago, I was working nights so my darling husband was in charge of packing lunches and getting everyone off to school in the morning (a schedule I am happy to report he has kept up with  several years past my night shift days).  Then the ultimate embarrassment happen.  Well, for a mom this may be the one thing many of us have nightmares about.  He allowed our youngest daughter to dress herself on fieldtrip day.

So to give this child some credit for being an absolute rule follower, she was told by the teacher to dress up and wear comfortable walking shoes.  These instructions were taken very seriously by my 9 year old.  It was a beautiful spring day.  I remember sitting on the front steps with a cup of coffee waiting for the afternoon bus as I tried to wake up.  Then to my absolute horror, I spotted her.

brace yourselves...

My beautiful child came bouncing up the driveway wearing...

her black and metallic silver Christmas dress

baby blue soccer socks pulled to her knees

hot pink gym shoes

I almost fell over.  I didn't know if I should call my husband first or the teacher!  I gave her a big hug through my hysterical laughter, snapped a quick picture, and sent her to change while I made call #1.   Dad.  I simply asked him what he sent Skye to school wearing on this beautiful spring day.  He had absolutely no clue.  My giggles are now causing tears.

Call #2 was to her teacher who I had a really good relationship with.  I barely said hello through my giggles when she burst out laughing and asked if I had worked last night!  We then shared a hysterical laugh over the fact dad didn't even remember what the kid was wearing as she happily left that morning.  I felt mildly vindicated that she knew enough to assume I had worked the night before and dad must have been in charge.

I admit it.  When it comes to the girls, there are just things I am in charge of.  When they were tiny I used to hang their clothes as outfits.  To my absolute annoyance my husband would grab the pants off of one outfit and top off of another to creative some interesting looks.  I had guidelines for what to wear for church and family gathering and took pride in how well kept they always looked.  To this day, leggings are NOT pants and bra straps better not be showing. 

So how does this all tie in to my journey with CJ.  Well- I was thinking about how often I sometimes find myself at the cemetery.  What pushes me to go? At first my greif was so desperate that I'm surprised I didn't dig back into the earth for my baby.  I would sob to a point near fainting.  With a little time, tears still fall but my conversations with him have evolved to less begging for answers, and more aimed at letting him get to know what is in my heart.  To be honest, often it's the weather. The thought of a storm making a mess of his wreath or anything else we have out there drives me nuts.  I don't want my son's grave to look like the kid that nobody is taking care of.  Because he doesn't have his stone yet, it bothers me that everything out there is very temporary and can be blown away with one storm.  The only permanent memorial CJ has is created with the best of intentions, but the moment I stop showing up it could very easily disappear.

Interesting the parallels.  I may not be able to dress CJ in the stacks of adorable khakis and baseball hats waiting for him in his room, but I have control over the little bunnies and fake flowers we left out there for spring today.  And if  I return to find his space disheveled, I am back to that mom watching her happy child  bounding up the driveway oblivious that her very appearance is a reflection of a mom who adores her so desperately.  He is just another one of my kids being over-mommed in the wardrobe department!

Packing up for a roadtrip tonight.  My heart keeps drifting back to his spot.  Hoping the storm predicted next week doesn't destroy the pretty arrangements his sister and I left today.  Or at the least, that someone shares a smile with my little boy and straightens them up until his mommy is back.

rest in sweet peace CJ.  I know you are with us as we travel this week.  Keep us safe.  Teach us how to #doitforcj

The safe zone...

Standing in line at Target today, 2 young 20 somethings in front of me were chatting about the one's barely noticeable baby bump.   Then my heart stopped when this new mommy said:

 " I'm in the safe zone now that I'm past 20 weeks"

My heart dropped.  My eyes filled with tears and every inch of me wanted to escape.   Somehow I managed to check out and get to my car before collapsing into heart wrenching sobs.

Is that how we view pregnancy?  And if so,  what am I?  Someone who couldn't manage to carry my son for just TWO more weeks?

I have to admit while I have had my own experience with miscarriages personally as well as too many women I care for.  I have heard women cry in emotional pain EMBARRASSED that they had announced their pregnancy. Waiting until it's "safe" to announce...  My views and on this have completely changed.

Why do we as women think it is an embarrassment when we loose a child?  Why do we wait to share the news? Newsflash- the "safe zone" is complete bullshit.  Suffering alone with the loss of a pregnancy is hell.  Wearing the badge of a mom who carried a baby to a viable stage and experience loss is torture.  We need to embrace each other through these experiences and bring awareness to an issue that too many women suffer alone.

For that young mom in Target today, I pray with all of my heart that she is right,  That she has miraculously fallen into some mythical safe zone.  But even more, I hope someone that loves her gently reminds her that pregnancy is not over until you hold that baby.  A baby who may be wisked away for health problems, may look unique from a deformity, or even lifeless. That the time she has now with every little kick is the most precious time and a gift. 

So speaking of the gift of time, we are taking some time as a family to recharge next week.  We are in desperate need to hug our oldest, and because of the love and generosity of others it's about to happen!  Gas cards, discounted lodging, and free park passes... even a gift card for groceries!  So I spent the evening precooking several meals and worrying about silly things.  This trip is also turning into an opportunity for us to consider a job transfer.  Which would mean for some time being separated from CJ's grave.  A flood of emotions and questions are boggled up in my mind.  But one thing is for sure-  I'm stepping out of MY self perceived safe zone.  I know my baby boy is with me no matter where I am.  I have never lived outside of Illinois state lines, but maybe this is his way of nudging us back into life.  Into looking forward to adventures again.

So keep us in prayer for a safe travels this weekend.  I am hoping to have a few quick, silly, happy, possibly tipsy posts from Epcot as we enjoy the warmer weather so keep your eyes peeled

Dani and Lizzy - Dancing in the sky

take a few moments, grab some tissues, and enjoy.  I always picture CJ is such a peaceful place and hear so clearly that I am not alone on earth in this journey.  Bless you, my sweet CJ!  Dance with the angels my little love.

waterproof mascara

Once upon a time, I had a life.  lol  Let's face it... I'm a 40 year old woman who is an  unemployed, scatterbrained,  stay at home mom (with no kids at home!).   Talk about all the making for a mid life crisis!  The comical part is I don't have enough time.  For anything.  Yes, I have heard the long explanation of how the chemical imbalance of depression blah blah blah....

But here's the deal- I am so sick of the bereaved mom stereotype.  Yes, I am grieving CJ every second of every day.  He is the first thing I think of one when I wake up, and thoughts of him keep me awake long into the night.  Some days I am up and out of the house in the world.  Others the thought of even answering my phone is too much to deal with.

But today I am having a lighter day.  I figured out accidently how to take a picture of  myself from my laptop.  Today I'm hiding being glasses as I sew my way through a few projects that have deadlines looming.  So here is my mind blowing
thought for the day...

Waterproof mascara. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 

I rotate between 3 phases. 

1. Day when my cheeks are burned from tears.  Yes, burned raw.  These days most of my decent eyelashes usually fall out.  These days I'm usually too raw and bright red to even attempt makeup.  If I have to leave the house, expect me to walk into anywhere I need to be wearing sunglasses, and they stay right there on my face.  I have learned not to give a crap what people think.  If that makes me more comfortable, the world can wonder... 

2.  OK days when I attempt to get dressed and put on makeup.  Eventually tears sneak up on me if I'm caught off guard, that waterproof crap end up on my shirt sleeve of back of my hand and I quickly try to clean myself up in public.

3.  The rare day when I think I'm leaving the house looking decent and in a pretty light mood until I catch my reflection in a mirror.  Those harder days have left their mark.  Dark and puffy eye circles and blotchy skin are my badge of honor for crying myself to a point of dehydration and exhaustion. There is no hiding the emotional scars the past 7 months have left on my face. I avoid having my picture taken to the extent that I'm beginning to realize I will be nonexistent in photo albums for several big moments on our kid's lives. 

So I guess I will continue to keep dropping money on waterproof mascara and reapplying several times a day.  For a brief moment, when I'm leaning in toward the mirror and only concentrating my eye, I see myself as I used to be.  Anyone who knows me knows as long as I have on black mascara, I can leave the house.   Add a dark pair of sunglasses, and life goes on!


love you, CJ!!  Mommy will keep trying for those better days. But when I trip, know that eventually my face will get washed, a new coat applied, and I'll try again.  I WILL #doitforcj

 

 

dance my little angel...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNoLJy68ZcE

 

Holy haircolor!

Talk about having one of those holy crap moments!!  Besides the extra weight that I really need to get off of my ass already, I took a good look at myself in the mirror.  Talk about doom and gloom.  My wardrobe consists of black/denim, and my hair has even taken on the long, dark, straight route I've never been a huge fan of.  Think lazy jersey shore...

With a quick trip to see our oldest in a much warmer state right around the corner, I am hesitant to give up my ponytail length.  And since I do not start my new job until next month, cash is beyond running thin.  My solution?  The dreaded home highlighting kit.

Women are gasping and men are perplexed lol.  I think we have all had the one horrific home hair color experience that make  us swear to never never never be so cheap again.

But tonight I needed a change.  I went all out- sitting in the family room as my teenage daughter capped my head.  Yep- Capped long hair. oooooouch!  45 min with a goofy plastic cap tied under my chin with a head full of bleaching solution and I am back to me! Well, at the least a good start.  I feel sparked for the first time to actually pack some colorful clothes for our trip and start to get out in the neighborhood for some long walks to kick start some weight loss.  Funny how something as simple as hair color can do that for a woman.

I slipped.  Hard.  While I am trying so desperately to take care of my heart/spirit/ mind, I have completely disrespected my body.  Much of it is as a way to protect myself.  The dark hair and clothes are a reminder to people around me that I'm a grieving mom.  And even more as a reminder for myself as I fight with myself over where I should be in this journey.  Finding the balance of honoring and acknowledging the past yet preparing to embrace whatever is before us in the future is overwhelming.  What I learned today is that some things are ok to let go of.  My ever present sunglasses and dark eye circles are a good enough badge screaming bereaved mom. 

So maybe this is the beginning of getting back to my journey of hope.  While God and I are patching things up slowly but surely, church and I have some ways to go.  That building still represents the last place I was with my son.  Sitting in the pew always brings tears.  No need to heap on the Catholic guilt to all my fellow cradle Catholics!  This is between God and I, and my attendance is the last thing I am concerned about right now.  I sporadically pop in for mass, always leave in tears, but look forward to eventually rejoining my faith community on a regular basis.  It's missing from our lives. But in our own way we celebrate mass and God's word in our home every day as we struggle though. I pray harder and with so much more honesty at my son's grave then I ever have in any building. 

Amazing what a simple hair color change can trigger....   #doitforcj 

7 months

Dear CJ,

7 months.  In some ways it feels like yesterday, yet in the next breathe it feels like years.

Mommy still cries.  Lots.  I'm getting better at holding back until I'm alone, but sunglasses are definitely my best disguise.  Sometimes tears hit my cheeks before I realize it.  Even on my busiest days, you are in my heart and on my mind.

I have so many questions I wish you could answer for me.  When will I join you in heaven?  Do I make you proud?  How can I honor your memory best?  And so many more...

Daddy and your sisters miss you so much too.  Not a day goes by that we don't say your name.  This week we all seen to be stumbling into situations that hurt our broken hearts.  Sometimes people just don't understand how painful their words (or lack of) can be.  But when you see us stumble, notice how many beautiful souls rush to pick us up!  Thank you for nudging them for us.

Mommy can usually ramble on and on, but this week my hurting heart has me stifled.  Please help everyone around me view my silence and as cry for help.  Mommy needs prayers.  Lots and lots of prayers.

7 months my angel.  7 months closer to holding you in my arms again.  Maybe next months I will handle the 13th better. Maybe....

#doitforcj

embracing being Mrs A

I had a funny experience a few days ago.  There is this perception when people first meet me.  If they know about CJ, I'm greeted over cautiously.  Adults that is.  Teenagers are (as they usually are) completely a different story!

Over the past few weekends our youngest daughter has the honor of preparing to be a dama (court member) for a friend's  quincenera.  Dance lessons, formal dresses... it is the equivalent of a wedding reception with choreographed dances.

2 of the other girls in the court are new friends to us. I have been helping with alterations and have spent some time getting to know them.

Low back dresses needed sewn in bra cups- which is where I was called in. Try to talk cup size with a bunch of teen girls and you can imagine the giggles and whispers! 

Last weekend I brought sample size cups to their dance practice to finalize sizes.  I admit to being completely amused by how they surrounded me to keep the boys from seeing.  Of course I talk with my hands, so the infectious laughter kept increasing as I was waving around bra cups as we talked.  My own daughter was full of eye rolls and the ever present "omg" look teen girls perfect with soooo much practice.

Later that night my kid was joking around with me as we finished her alterations and I teased her about her cup size.  she hugged me and told me "and that's why my friends love you, mom".  Talk about melting my heart!

Those moments interacting with the kiddos is why I can't hide away.  They remind me why I miss CJ so much.  I can honestly say being a mom is my greatest accomplishment.  I love it.  I work very hard at it. Nobody will ever call me perfect, but I hope every kid that crosses my path feels loved, respected, and shares a smile.  That's what keeps me going.

I watch other moms squander their opportunity.  They are worried about their social lives or other noise instead of the blessings right in front of them. They scream and swear at their kids in front of me, which scares me what they do begins closed doors.  The same kids I see screaming back at their moms are helping wash dishes after dinner in my home, desperate for the 20 min interaction with a mom who will listen.

CJ's influence pushes me every single day.  I feel him guiding me to find the time.  Not only for our gorgeous kids, but the "strays" that fill our couches and our lives over the weekends, and often spilling into the week.

Mrs. Aguilar.  That's me.  And I'm cool with that!  They have enough friends.  I'm happy to be a trusted, respected adult in their lives.  When my children address you accordingly, know it's a sign of respect.  They understand you are not their peer, but an adult.  I hope you get to know them and enjoy some of the energy that keeps me going!

Reach out to a child.  You will be paid back in abundance! #doitforcj

adios trusting myself...

Looking at our 3 daughters you see gorgeous, tall, athletic young women.  Their long dark hair, mischievously twinkling dark eyes,  and tiny little waist lines make me envious every day for those years of my own youth.  They look incredibly similar. Looks are very deceiving!  Their similarities end at their looks in many ways. Any time I get to spend some alone time with one of them, I marvel at their ability to amaze me on what individual and unique people they have become.

For over a week now I have had our middle daughter home sick.  Really sick.  The kind of sick that has you running to the emergency room at midnight on a Sunday with a child doubled over in pain. Tests, iv fluids and pain meds, and reassuring words from doctors  Our trust in our own parenting abilities during medical issues has taken a huge hit since we lost CJ.  Basically, that feeling trusting your gut is gone.  Every second of every day I am waiting to be once again proven wrong in the most horrific way.  So last night we were to the point of she and I crashed out in the family room.  She tossed and turned in pain all night on one couch. I kept watch from the other.  It was along night.

I wonder if I'll ever trust my instincts again.  With the girls already teens/young adults, my chances to explore and rediscover those instincts are few.  I look around and wonder if others trust us with their babies. If my own children will worry about leaving our grandchildren with us.  It's not rational, but my heart reminds me every day that I am in the minority of parents who have buried a child.  Look at the odds- of 4 children, only 3 are alive.  My track record for the simple act of keeping my children ALIVE sucks.

This journey isn't always pretty. Days like today fear takes over every inch of me while I go into autopilot.  My beautiful child is finally feeling better and almost ready to jump back into life.   I'll be home worrying about her every second when she leaves my sight.  I am unrealistically convinced that at any moment, the phone will ring and life will stop all over again.  If that moment ever happens, there is not a doubt in my mind that my heart will finally stop for good.

Every sniffle, ache, fever, or bump will never be taken for granted ever again.  Tonight's post isn't dripping in very much hope.  But to not share where my heart truly is this week would be dishonest to this journey.

CJ, I am so sorry.  I am so sorry.  I am so sorry....

May tomorrow find me exhaling a bit more while, trusting my ability to keep all of these beautiful creatures alive, and finding the courage to listen to my inner voice.

Perception is a bitch!!

Shhhhhhh!  Even the dogs are sleeping.  I'm learning to hate the silence a bit less during these late nights. It gives me a chance to put the world on hold and collect my thoughts.

These past few days I have stumbled through life in new glasses. A recent yearly eye exam revealed a pretty dramatic change in prescription in both eyes. Unfortunately this left me waiting for new contacts on order, but with new glasses.

Day 1 I came home and performed a now infamous wipe out landing square on my kneecap before being on my face on the floor.  Tears and laughter ensued.  A bag of ice on my knee and wine followed. 

Day 2 I fell out of the conversion van. This flop luckily happened in our garage and not in front of the neighborhood!  I swear the ground move when I went to step out...

Strike 3- the dryer.  I went to move a soggy load into the dryer and literally threw it 3 feet too high. Standing directly in front of a major appliance, I couldn't aim at the door.

My perception is off. Really off.  How often have I thought I knew what that means?  How often was I wrong? Really really wrong.

A weekend of hearing updates on other people's lives leave me heart broken.  While my perception is that my life is living hell right now, the reality is my life is very blessed.  I share every day with a home full of people I not only love, but admire, enjoy, and with all my heart LIKE.  Our drama is minimal. Kind words, laughter, and respect fill the air.  Our children are thriving even while missing CJ to our core. Violence and fear are nonexistent behind our walls. We are far from perfect, but I'm pretty proud of the life we have built together. Together as in all of us. Not only do we as parents have a leadership role, but so do our children. All FOUR of them guide us every day to want more for all of us.

While I'm sure we are perceived as a family in utter turmoil, our reality is much different.  Our feet aren't always squarely on the ground. Often one of us misjudges the next step and needs to be picked up.  Or we overcompensate and end up having to start over.  But we keep going.  I can hear CJ giggling those perfect baby chuckles as I wipe my tears and pick myself up over and over again.

I'm adjusting to my new glasses just as i'm adjusting to our new life.    I'm learning not to soley rely on what I perceive to be our reality, and cautiously test each new obstacle before falling face first again.  Don't get me wrong- I will fall. It will hurt like hell and tears will follow.  But slowly I am falling less, finding the ground beneath my feet a bit more stable, and feeling and angel on my shoulder guiding me.

Guess what, CJ?  Mommy survived another day. My knees are scrapped and mystery bruises cover my body, but they are healing. Thank you for guiding me through the unsteady times. Hopefully soon I will doze off to dream of you in heaven.  That is one perception that is truly reality!!

#doitforcj