Leesha's Angel

I have a theory on the meaning of life. Or more specifically, the unique experiences and moments each of us are blessed with. I am always amazed at how the events of my own life unfold. It is as if I am walking on a giant web of experiences and ideas. All interconnected in some way and each plays some part in supporting another. 

I believe that every experience we have is given to us at the exact moment we are ready to maximize the benefit. Now, I know that many people will think "there is no way _______ experience had any benefit to my life or anyone else's life for that matter". Well, I disagree. I believe that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Now, what that student chooses to do with the moment is what some like to refer to as "free will". Now, this isn't to say that we consciously choose to ingnore the lessons or opportunities to grow, but possibly the experience is given to us for increased awareness alone.

I had an interesting moment this morning as I was cruising my ususal internet sites. Checking mail, checking Facebook, along with other routine glances. I noticed that a dear friend who used to be my roommate over 10 years ago in college, had accepted my friend request on Facebook. I have been looking for my old roommates on and off for months, but through another series of intertwined events, just now was able to find them.

Anyway, as I started looking over her profile and pictures my heart dropped to my stomach. There, on her Facebook page was a picture of the smallest baby I have ever seen in my life, next to mine. I felt like I had no breath and had to force myself to breath so as not to loose my breakfast. This baby of hers, born at 24 weeks gestation is now a healthy beautiful 11 month old baby boy with no medical problems whatsoever.

A rush of emotions flooded me as I was instantly time transported 5 years back to the day I gave birth to my beautiful son Dominic at 24 weeks gestational age. He, however was not meant to be an earth angel, like my old roommates baby, but instead went back to heaven to do angel work from another universal dimension.

Now, this is not an experience I have stuffed into the closet for 5 years refusing to deal with the reality. I actually have dealt with it openly for many years and have felt very peaceful about the outcome. That is why these emotions came as such a surprise to me this morning. Something inside of me fell apart and I began to feel sad and for a split second, almost resentful that her baby had been chosen to live and mine had not.

However, this thought left my mind as quickly as it had entered it. For I have given much practice over the years to my original declaration that every life experience has unique purpose and the true test is to find meaning in these experiences. In that moment, I remembered how blessed I am to have been given the experience of being the mother of an angel. I was very determined and inspired after that experience, but over the years I have let some of that determination fizzle out.

What an ironic and coincidental time for me to receive a surge of these feelings, right as I am moving forward with my passion and dream of reaching the masses through my blog. This was no accident and has given me another dose of inspiration to feed from. 

I do not know where this will lead just like all the other very strange things that seem to be falling into place as I set this plan in motion. However, one thing I have learned as I have practiced mindfulness over the years while extracting lessons to both receive and teach, is that life is. That's all. The less I analyze and criticize, the more I am given and peace becomes my companion.

I welcome this experience and am anxious to see where it leads me and who comes along this journey with me. Thank you Lesha for feeding me my dose of inspiration today. You are an amazing woman and I love you dearly.

Dating Sites

I will admit it. I have been on a dating site…..2 to be exact. Not extremely proud of it, nor is it my opening line at a social gathering but I am not ashamed either. I feel inclined to share my thoughts about this experience. It was immediately obvious to me that dating sites are not a part of my life for what they were intended for, dating. They have however, provided me with a wide variety of comic relief and occasional ego stroking. But more often these sites leave me feeling as if I need to take a shower after reading the disrespectful albeit sometimes humorous comments. Mostly they leave me feeling empty and irritated.  Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not completely against dating sites. In fact, I am quite for them. It is the people who frequent them that I find a problem with. Of the hundreds of messages I received in the relatively short time I was a member, I was offended by roughly 50 % of them. I was bored by the other half and fell asleep with my face down on the keyboard. In fact, I only had 1 single message in 6 years that even remotely peaked my interest. Unfortunately, as a novice dating site member, I was not aware that this was a classic line……..  ….. “I have already married and divorced you in my mind…..” although this appeared to be clever the first time I read it, the 20th message that declares I must return some “virtual belongings” to some creepy idiot that is filing an imaginary divorce decree is no longer clever or funny. In addition “hey girl, what’s up?!?” is not a good starter line. This gives me no information about you and leads me to no point intellectually where I even entertain the thought of attempting to have a conversation with you. We are not standing in line at McDonalds. I do not owe you a cordial response.  And lastly, if at any point in your um, “dating” career you think it might be a good idea to take a picture of yourself with your cell phone, standing in the mirror, wearing only your boxers and a rusty chain around your neck…… You are creepy, and I will teach my children to cross the street if they see you walking down the sidewalk!

Words

I had forgotten the reason that I always stop writing. Although the words flow with such ease and are so stimulating, their power always takes me by surprise. 
My pen is the knife I use to cut so the Words can bleed and I can have peace. They are my release. With a pen and paper, the universe is unlocked. Nothing is censored, and nothing can be monitored. It just is. Like the breath in my lungs. 
Usually, I don’t even know what has been written until I close my eyes, take a deep breath and look again. It is like one of those pictures where you have to step back and let your vision adjust before you are able to see what is on the paper.
Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry. Almost always I am terrified. The authority in my Words comes as a reality check every time. From time to time, my Words take the breath from me. A bucket of ice water being poured over my head as I sleep. Occasionally the jolt can be refreshing. 
At first, Words are empowering. They are my thoughts, my light and my soul. But when I want to sleep, Words keep dancing in my head and crawling through my bed. I beg them to stop. I have to have a break. Silence from the chaos. They never listen.
They wake me up in the night. Many nights I can recall just me and my pen. I write on receipts, old pay stubs, even my arm if there is no paper.
When the alarm clock rings I open my eyes. The first thing I see is Words sharing a pillow with me. Sometimes they smile and sing me songs of good morning. Most likely they scream at me like a child needing to be fed. 
They are in my cereal bowl and on my toast. I eat Words for breakfast every morning. I make my way down the hallway and into the bathroom. Dammit Words!!!! Can’t I have any privacy? They sit on the counter top waiting for me to record them, on toilet paper if I have to. They don’t care. 
What is so important that they sing to me in the shower? I try to wipe them off onto a towel. But they evaporate back into the air and cling to my naked body. Words are horribly persistent. They tell me what to wear, which pants make me look fat and how I should do my hair.
When I leave for work, I try to trick Words. Lock them in my notebook and hide them in my drawer. But the Words always beat me out the door. Driving is their favorite time of day. They call all of their friends to come along for the ride. At times the company can be nice, but usually they are all speaking at once. I have even had to stop the car to silence Words onto paper.
I speak to Words very sternly before I go into work. STAY! I command them, as I lock the car. But shortly after I clock in I hear snickering and whispering. I can’t do anything about the Words now because I am on someone else’s time. When Words are ignored they become toxic, like a slow carbon monoxide leak. They start to make me nauseous and weak. They make me grouchy and tired. The Words that are supposed to be helping me are interfering with my every day life. I can’t wait for my break so I can let some of the Words free. I hope they will loosen their death grip on my concentration.
Five o’clock comes. I dash for the car. At every stoplight I put some of the Words to rest on the notebook sitting dangerously in my lap. Often, I can’t wait for the stoplight. I write as I drive.
When I get home, I walk into the house and am greeted by a litter of Words born while I was away. I never thought caring for Words was going to be so much work. I dance and play with them. I feed them dinner and let them tell be stories before bedtime.
I tuck them in and kiss them goodnight. Then I retreat to the living room where I am free for a couple of hours before I too turn in for the night. Ironically, I pull a book from the bookshelf and begin to read. But these are someone else’s Words, so it is ok. 
It doesn’t take long before I hear my Words sneaking up on me interrupting the meeting with my other friends.
“WORDS-” I bawl, “Your time is over!!!”
But before long I put down the book and turn to the Words that I wished for in the first place. Now I am just plain irritated, served with a side of exhaustion. I am too fatigued to argue with Words anymore. So I brush my teeth (theirs too of course), wash my face and crawl into bed.
“Goodnight Words.”
The silence lasts all but two minutes before Words coerce me out of bed. Exhaustion means nothing when Words are so loud. I tiptoe to the rocking chair and begin to rock my Words back to sleep. At least this time they brought the pen and paper.

Landslide

Thank God for 365 days.  As much as I don't want this day to be one I circle on the calendar, I feel like today is a milestone.  Today marks 365 days of survival.  Some not so great, some fantastic.

Simple as that.

One year ago today, the landslide brought me down......

Here's to using the next 365 to thrive, rather than survive.

Dear Mommy.....(Letter From an Angel)

Thank You to Sara from Blog Frog, for inspiring me to post this today.

I knew that I wanted to speak at my son's funeral (stillborn at 24 weeks), but could not for the life of me find the right words.  You can imagine my frustration as a writer getting writers block at the most important writing moment of my life.

I finally wandered outside around 2AM to lay on the grass and look up at the stars around.  The service was in 8 hours and I still had no idea what I was going to say.  As I lay there looking into the heaven and thinking about my sweet baby, all the sudden I was flooded with words.  It was as if my little angel was channeling words through me.  I grabbed my pen and paper and scribbled as quickly as I could to get it all down.
After I finished, I read back through it and it took my breath away.  It is a letter written from my angel baby, to me, from heaven.  It was very powerful and healing for me.  I have been wanting to find a way to make it into a children's book and donate it to the high risk maternity wards for women who loose their babies too early.  Below is the talk I gave, exactly as I gave it.

There are some moments in life that you can never be fully prepared for.  Speaking at a funeral for your child is one of those moments.  However, it is very important for me to be able to share some of my thoughts and feelings on behalf of my beloved Dominic.  Please bear with me.
Most of you know that the written word speaks to me in ways even I do not understand.  Writing for me is the deepest form of communication.  Thoughts and feelings flow from my pen onto the paper sometimes without my own knowledge of what is happening.  The words I have produced here have brought me much comfort and I believe they are the words of my son.  They are very special to me, and I would like to share them with you.

Dear Mommy,

It was not long ago that God came to me and told me it was my turn to go to earth.  I was so excited.  I have been looking forward to this for a long time.  He sat me on his lap and told me that my journey was going to be a little different than normal.  I had been assigned a very elite mission.  I asked him if that was like an adventure.  He smiled and nodded silently.  I got very excited because I love adventures.  You never know what is going to happen.  In heaven, there are not a lot of surprises.  It seems like everyone knows everything around here.

God told me I needed to pick my mommy very carefully.  He said she needed to be compassionate and caring.  Her heart should be strong, and she should be very brave because there would be a lot of things she did not understand.  I knew right away who to pick.  I have been watching you for a long time and I think you are the best mommy a boy could ever have.  God beamed as if he knew I was going to pick you.  (He probably did because he knows everything).  He kissed me on the nose and said I had made an outstanding choice.

He called upon all of his strongest angels and told them to gear up for a very important assignment.  (Mommy, God gave you his best angels.  I know because I have seen them work.  They are amazing).  He instructed them to take extra special care of you.  This was to be done around the clock, he said.  He even has an extra angel that is always on call, just in case one of the regulars gets sick.  I've never seen an angel get sick, but I guess God wanted to be prepared for anything.  That's his job, you know.

Guess what he told me then, Mom.  He said when I get back from my journey that I can get my wings.  You know, not all angels have wings, only those who have come back home.  I'm so excited to get wings mommy.  I have been waiting for such a long time.  Do you know how angel's wings work?  I hoe it's not supposed to be a secret, but I just have to tell you.  Angel wings are built with Love.  Every time you help someone to feel Love, another feather is added to your wings.  The more feathers you have, the higher and faster you can fly.  I want to have the most feathers so I can fly the fastest of all the angels in heaven.  There is no speed limit in heaven, and sometimes the angels get together to race.  They say that everyone is a winner, but I think they just have to say that because it is heaven and they don't want anyone to feel bad.  I can't wait to show them how fast I am.

The other day I got to try on my Daddy's wings.  They are so big!  My Daddy must love a lot of people because his wings are twice as big as me!  I sure do love my Daddy.  Sometimes he gets sad, but that is when I hug is heart the hardest.  I like it when he dances, I think he is a good dancer.  I can't wait to dance with my Daddy someday.  He would love the music here.  Music in heaven is different.  It comes from your heart.  Sometimes we dance all day and then we roll around in the clouds.  I like to dance barefoot on the clouds because it tickles my toes and makes me giggle.  I love to laugh.

I have seen your wings too Mom.  They are beautiful.  Everyday someone puts a new feather on them, so you must be teaching a lot of people about love.  That is why I picked you, because you understand.
I am so happy in heaven Mommy.  I have so many friends and everyone is so nice.  Nobody ever tries to make you fell bad or say mean things.  It is magic.  Someday you will see.  Guess what else Mom; in heaven everyone gets a kitten.  If you want one.  Not everyone wants a kitten, but I have one.  His name is Sunshine because he makes me feel warm and happy.  I can't wait for you to meet him.  I get to eat popcicles for breakfast if I wants too, and nobody ever makes me take bath.  You don't need baths in heaven because everything is so clean.  Sometimes I take baths just because I like the bubbles.  (But I don't ever wash behind my ears.  I think that is silly and only old people do that).

Guess what else Mom, God said I could be Zehn's guardian angel.  I had to ask for help though because I am just a little angel, and it is such a big job.   I love my big brother so much.  He is so special.  Look into his eyes when he laughs and you will see a reflection of me.  Do you want to know a secret?  Zehn is one of God's "earth" angels, and he knows who I am.

Thank you for my name.  Dominic John Klimowicz.  It fits me perfectly.

My first name, Dominic, means "belonging to God".  He is so pleased that you understand that we are all his children.  Sometimes Mommys forget, and ask why God took their babies away from them.  God is not angry, and he never wants to hurt anyone; he just has different plans for different people.  But it is still hard someitmes to remember.

My middle name, John, after my poppa, is absolutely perfect.  He is such a great man.  He has come so far and is a pillar of love.  I am so proud of him.  He is my special Poppa (thumbs up). Mommy, I am glad I could help you find your way back to his home and into his heart.  I know how much you love your Daddy.  I am so honored to carry his name.

My last name, Klimowicz, is my Daddy's name.  It is kind of hard to say, and even harder to spell.  I have been practicing it for a while.  Some of my friends still can't say it.  Thak you Dad for our name.  We can make it stand for anything we want.  We can take pride in knowing that in our home, Klimowicz means Love, and Family.

Mommy, I know that you are sad, because you want to hold me now.  But I promise we will dance together someday.  For now, I will wrap you in my new wings and hug your heart as tight as I can.  There are no Band-Aids in heaven Mom, here we use tears.  I know that sounds kind of funny.  But in heaven, tears are for cleaning your heart when it is hurt.  So, it is OK to cry, but don't forget to laugh, because you have such a wonderful life.  Remember to say I Love You.  These are the three most important words.  Nothing else really matters.

Mommy, I know you have been worried about Uncle Mike.  He is in good hands and God has sent special angels to be with him so he can be comforted, and understand my special mission.  I am going to fly there with my new wings and leave some kisses in his heart.  He will be ok, so you don't have to worry anymore.

Mommy, Daddy, Zehn, Poppa, Maaga, Uncke Mike, Aunt Aitch, Uncle Ty and Aunt Tiffy- Thank you for being so strong.  I know this is very hard.  I am so proud of you.  And to  the wonderful friends and family sitting in this room, and those who could not be here, Thank You.  For your authentic Love, and amazing support towards my family not only in this challenging time, but every day.

My voice may be soft and quiet, but my message is strong and loud....

-This life is too short, you can't afford to wait;  Tell someone you love them, before it is too late.

I love You - Dominic

In closing, I would like to thank my son for the inspiration he has given to me.  As his mother I was supposed to give him the gift of life.  Ironically it seems to be the other way around.  I have been blessed with more than a child; I have been blessed with an angel of Love.
Dominic, I am at peace with where you are.  I am honored that you chose me to be your mother.  I do not understand everything, but I do understand enough to know that all is as it sould be.  I know I will have the chance to hold you and teach you to ride a bike.  You can teach me how to fly....
My solemn promise to you, my son, is to give myself fully in the service of Love.  I will carry your message and share it daily with the world.  You my rest in peace, my angel.  Enjoy your wings.
I Love You - Mommy

Dominic John Klimowicz

delivered his message of Love
Sept 21st 2004

Pink Slip

I never claimed to be the best parent.  Of course I have high hopes and fairy tale dreams for my children, but in REAL life, my biggest hope is that they don’t end up homeless on the street having sex with strangers to buy their next bottle of vodka or 8-ball of coke.  Somedays I wonder if I am steering them away, or towards that lifestyle.

Exhibit A:

Yesterday Zehn came home from school with a pink slip.  I have heard of pink slips in movies, but until today have never actually seen one with my own eyes.  Yes, that’s right, my child exposed me to my first pink slip sighting.  He walked in the door, directly over to where I was sitting, smacked it down on the table and said matter-of-factly, “I got in trouble for throwing snowballs today”.
I could lie and tell you that I immediately went into “teaching” mode as a mom, but that is not the case.  My first reaction was pride that I had raised him to tell me the truth, even if the truth was that he was in trouble…….fair enough.  My second reaction was where I think I derailed the positive parenting train.   I said “Well, did you at least hit someone with the snowball?”  He smiled cautiously to test if I was serious or not, then replied “no”.
My third reaction topped the other two as I said “Well, next time you ATTEMPT to do something that is going to get you in trouble at school, make sure that you achieve what you set out to do!!!” 

Repreeezzzent-N

Dear Mr. Saturn Driver,
Thank you for being clear on what "crew" you are representing.  I would have hated to mix you up with a rival "crew".  Say, god-forbid..... a    H-O-N-D-A!!!

Respectfully,
Jenn

Jenny Cracked Corn and I Don't Care

You know, it's never the big things that break me.  I can handle bleeding faces and seizures.  Not that I am inviting them but crisis, I can deal with.  It's the little things like spilling a bowl of goldfish crackers or wet-sock that push me over the edge.  Today it's burnt popcorn.  I don't know what it is about popcorn that is so hard to master.  My success rate is probably in the 10th percentile at best.  If I happen to magically cook it to perfection, I don't want to eat it.  I want to set it on my shelf in a pretty bowl to look at.  It doesn't matter if I always buy the same size bags, or same brand, or cook it at the same temperature, time of day, etc, etc, etc....  undoubtedly I end up with a bag full of scalding hot kernals and not even enough "popped" corn to feed a rodent. OR a bag of charred mess that stinks up the house for an entire day.  Today it was the later.  Burnt crisp like an albino on the beach.  And this is why I take anxiety meds.  Should have gone with the goldfish crackers today.

The Funeral

So, with all the new Christmas toys I decided to dis-infect all the others.

BLEACH BLEACH BLEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!

The stuffed animals didn't get a break either.............

However............ one didn't make it out alive...........

So, we had a funeral............

 

Love you Teddy..........Sorry  your guts fell out in the washer!

Happy Merry-Chris-Mouse-Turkey-Giving-Pizza Holiday

So, the holidays are here.  No denying that.  I have accepted and mostly embraced this with the exception of the fact that I have not done any holiday shopping.  The early bird gets the worm?  The not-so-early bird gets the mouse, i suppose.

2 weeks ago, my sweet friend Tiff brought us some X-mas gifts and all the fixins for a X-mas dinner due to the fact that I was not sure how I was going to be able to afford anything for the holiday this year.  Bless her heart.  She is (once again) my angel.  Well, I didn't have room in my freezer for the turkey so I put in the fridge and had planned to cook it last weekend for my birthday.  Due to a chain of events I did not forsee (as always), this did not happen as planned.

The turkey thawed in the fridge for 4 days and has been there ever since.  Today would be day 8 thawed - 12 total.  After checking the internet, the general consensus was cook a turkey no more than 5 days after thawing in the fridge (9 including thaw time).  Well, obviously the math on this one puts this turkey 3+ days overdue.  ***Strike One****


My psuedo mother in law (Sasha's grandma) is in town this weekend until Monday night.  I had planned to cook an early Christmas dinner on Sunday with Grandma Johnson, JJ, Zehn, Sasha and I.  Because I had the turkey in the fridge that needed to be cooked, this seemed like the opportune time to use it.  However,  I was slightly hesitant to cook it after so much time had gone by.  I didn't want to send my mother in law home for christmas with food poisoning.

I mindlessly pulled the turkey out of the fridge to smell it (as the all knowing internet suggested).  I couldn't get a good enough smell through the bag, so stupidly I sliced the bag open with the knife.  Simultaneously as I sliced the bag, I realized that regardless of the smell, I was not going to be able to put this turkey back into the fridge once it had been opened.  ***Strike Two***

So, I wrestled with the decision to soak the turkey in brine water overnight and cook an early christmas dinner on saturday or just cook the turkey tonight.  After realizing that I may be cooking a poison turkey either way, I decided just to cook it tonight and gamble on poisoning 2 of us rather than 5 of us.

I started preparing the turkey by pulling the skin back (very gross) and rubbing butter under the skin.  As I was preparing the turkey, I saw something run across the kitchen floor out of the corner of my eyes.  I immedieately stopped what I was doing, wiped the butter on my pants (so rachel ray), crawled on the kitchen table, and screamed for Zehn... (the man of the house).

We discussed the possibility of a mouse behind the oven and what to do.  Poor Zehn, who was more scared than I, but felt it was his manly duty to take care of it, suggested we leave a trail of cheese from the oven to the back door to entice the mouse out of the house.  He also announced that if the cheese didn't work, we would move on to marshmallows because no mouse can resist a marshmallow.  He is very anti-killing.  Even if it is a disease infested rodent, so his solution was to lead it out of the house.

I scaled the wall from the kitchen table and moved to a different room to let Zehn perform his magic.  When I came back to the kitchen a short while later, one of the cheese pieces closest to the stove was missing.  We decided this meant the mouse had left the house (hahahahaha) and went on with our night.

Not really thinking (DUH!!!) I turned on the oven to cook the turkey......  (mind you, we were now cooking a possible poison turkey).  About 20 minutes into it, Zehn walked into the kitchen and immediately started gagging.  Between choking on his gags he asked me what the horrible smell was.  Now, I am aware that my kids aren't always racing to the dinner table to devour my cooking, but this was a totally different response than I had ever seen from him.  I entered the kitchen and was slapped with the sicking smell of death.

Was the turkey really this poison?  I opened the oven to smell and was welcomed with a mouth watering very delicious aroma.  Whatever the smell of death was, was not coming from inside the oven.  Then I remembered.......... the MOUSE!!!!  We had never actually seen it exit from behind the stove.

GROSSSSSSSS!!!!!!     ***STRIKE THREE****  (You're out!!!!!)

The moment I realized what the smell was, I literally almost threw up in my mouth.  Along with our (possible poison) turkey, we were now cooking a mouse.  I called my mom in a panic.  Wondering what to do......  She (so wise as always :) ) advised me to turn off the oven, throw the turkey away and order pizza.

So, that's what we did.  Thank you Papa John's for providing us with the perfect dinner minus the mouse droppings or poison salmonella.  We love you and are thankful for the greasy calories that will make it difficult to fit into that perfect christmas dress.

After all said and done, I have decided I would much rather clean up a crispy mouse from behind the oven than a fresh squished mouse in a mouse trap.  So there you go..... that is today's lemonade.  Tomorrow I will deal with our "well done" delicasy that found it's final resting place under the stove.

R.I.P MR. Mouse.  I hope your buddies got the picture.