Uncle Oinker’s Savory Bacon Mints. This is one of those things I really didn’t need to know about.

A sacrilege toward bacon.

Speaking of… I’m SO excited about upcoming visits from out of town friends! Wendy and Geoff are heading here from Canada tomorrow, and will be here for 10 days. Wendy wants to step off the plane and be immediately taken to Super Rica. And it’s shaping up that Roger the Amazing will be taking us for a flight in his plane on Sunday. Yay!

The following weekend, Trevor and Linda, who recently escaped Florida and moved back to Cali, will be coming up to join in our fun. Yay, again!

Which leads me to… Trevor.

So, Trev, I discovered where I can get that Vosges bacon chocolate locally. I’ve refrained from purchasing it, awaiting your arrival. I can’t wait to hear the review you generously offered to provide. :p

Tim and I can totally see our diminutive Sofie doing something like this.

It is SO frustrating to watch over the past many months all of my sick and vacation time disappear to zero, literally. I’ve had to take time off for Sofie being sick or Lisa not being available, not to mention me getting sick, usually from Sofie.

Tim was able to spare 3 hours this week to care for Sofie. In his defense, he had important meetings scheduled all week.

Turned out she didn’t have strep, but man!, was she a grumpy, shrieking baby for a couple of days. Sofie and I reached a new level of annoyance and frustration with one another.

I often
find
myself proclaiming,
“I don’t want
to be
a mom anymore!”
This week, I often
felt it in my bones. But now that I reflect, while I may have felt it in my bones, I never felt it in my heart.I often find myself proclaiming, “I don’t want to be a mom anymore!” This week, I often felt it in my bones. But now that I reflect, while I may have felt it in my bones, I never felt it in my heart.

…

I stumbled upon this adapted poem soon after I was thrust into my role as Mom of Sofia the Micro Preemie. I believe Ms. Bombeck actually wrote this about mothers of “disabled” babies, not preemies (hence adapted). However, when I began my journey into not just motherhood, but a mom embarking upon the bumpy, uncertain road of life with a micro preemie, I actually found solace and hope in these sappy words.

When I first read the line about selfishness being a virtue (Score! I am soooo virtuous.), I actually felt a glimmer of hope begin to glow inside me… Hope that I could do this motherhood thing, and assurance that Sofie came into my life intentionally… She and I are supposed to be together. Poor kid.

I keep this poem around to reignite that glimmer of hope and purpose within myself, reminding myself that the universe brought Sofia to me for a reason… not necessarily in spite of my perceived shortcomings, but because of them. Hmm… perhaps they aren’t shortcomings after all.

While I was pregnant, my psychiatrist also spoke words echoing this sentiment. Children have a way of dredging up within our parent selves issues we can no longer dodge. We finally have to rise to the challenge of addressing and conquering demons from the past, character weaknesses, and phobias.

For me, one of my issues is my inability to ask for help… or ask for much of anything… from anyone. As the oldest child in my family, a ridiculous amount of responsibility was thrust upon me at far too early an age. I was told to not ask for anything. Told that it was my responsibility to take care of my sisters as my parents’ marriage dissolved. Told (by my dad) to never rely on a man for anything.

Those times when I did muster up the courage to ask my folks for something really important to me (e.g. driving me to all city honor orchestra practice for which I won a seat to perform; help filling out financial aid paperwork to try to get funding for college;…), I was often shot down, made to feel as though I was bothering them or imposing upon them, and told “No. Stop bothering me about it.” (I do not exaggerate. And, correct. Ten year old Gina did not get to play her violin with the orchestra, not having transportation to attend practices. Correct. I got no money for financial aid because as a dependent of my parents, I needed their tax info, which they refused to provide.) Asking for things only got me in trouble, leaving me feeling like a burden.

I realized years later as an adult that their hostile reactions were often more the result of them feeling badly for not being in a position to entertain and satisfy my requests, whether due to lack of resources, IRS dodging, etc. They were mad at themselves, but deflected it upon me. My dad realized this impact upon me years ago, noting that as an adult, I never ask for anything from him. It made him feel like I didn’t need him, which made him feel bad. A positive thing, I suppose, that he’s owned his role.

I love my parents. As an adult, I own my issues, having a lot of insight into them, and realize it’s up to me what I do with/about them. I do not play the victim card, and have no tolerance for those who do. You can only point the finger at your parents for so long.

Yet, despite all of this profound insight, I’m still screwed up.

I secretly hope people would just offer help or resources to me, or better yet, just do. People saying, “I’m here. Just ask.” doesn’t work for me because I still have to, well, ask and take them up on it.

I tend to be proactive when I extend help, and I typically am inclined to offer assistance in any way I can. I often just do without being asked. I think the way I help others is the way I secretly wish I would be helped, although I do realize there are drawbacks for others with my ways of helping… I am prone to just doing the whole xyz for them.

Bottom line: I want a fairy godmother.

So, back to my psychiatrist… I was concerned about how introvert me would get enough time for myself and manage to do it all with a baby, when I can’t ask anyone for help. He informed me that issues such as my inability to ask for anything would be challenged once I became a mother.

“You’ll see. You’ll no longer be asking for yourself, but for your baby. And while it’s going to be extremely uncomfortable, because it’s for her, you will ask. You’ll have to, and with that, you’ll have no choice but to exercise resolving this issue of yours.”

And by golly… While I’m still a long way off from normal in the asking department, Regina the Mom has certainly made progress.

…

The Special Mother (adapted from Erma Bombeck)

Did you ever wonder how the mothers of premature babies are chosen?

Sometimes, I visualize God hovering over Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.

“Beth Armstrong, son. Patron Saint, Matthew. Marjorie Forrest, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia. Carrie Rutledge, twins. Patron Saint … give her Gerard. He’s used to profanity.”

Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. “Give her a preemie.”

The angel is curious. “Why this one, God? She’s so happy.”

“Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel.”

“But does she have the patience?” asks the angel.

“I don’t want her to have too much patience, or she’ll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off, she’ll handle it. I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I’m going to give her has a world of its own. She has to make it live in her world, and that’s not going to be easy.”

“But Lord, I don’t think she even believes in you.”

God smiles. “No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just the right amount of selfishness.”

The angel gasps, “Selfishness?! Is that a virtue?”

God nods. “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says ‘mama’ for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see – ignorance, cruelty, prejudice – and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.”

“And what about her Patron Saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles.

“A mirror will suffice.”

By the way, if you read my last blog post, you’ll know that I am happy to report I got a headlamp yesterday! Woohoo! No fuss from Tim this time… in fact, he helped me pick one out. :)

The holiday yesterday didn’t feel like much of a holiday. Our neighbors have a meteorologist friend who also is a key player in tracking weather for fires. The news was that the winds were probably going to be fanning the flames our way, which they had already started to do early Friday morning.

We all figured it was time to start gathering the “important” things… birth certificates, passports, wedding license, Janet Jackson tickets, blah blah blah. Oh yeah, and I refilled all of my meds. Lordy, you don’t want ME not medicated during this time! :p

The air is seemingly better thus far today; the smoke is being blown high above. Still a din in the air, of course, but at least we aren’t enveloped in brown muck for the time being. Of course, sundowner winds in the evening will change that.

For those of you not familiar with the sundowner phenomenon, Wikipedia explains it as:

A Sundowner is an offshore wind which occurs when a region of high pressure is directly north of the Santa Barbara area, the part of the California coast which trends east-west. When the pressure gradient is perpendicular to the axis of the Santa Ynez Mountains, which rise directly behind Santa Barbara, the winds blow with greatest force. These winds often precede Santa Ana events by a day or two, as it is normal for high pressure areas to migrate east, causing the pressure gradients to shift to the northeast.[1]

Above is a Google map from The Santa Barbara Independent which I modded to depict our casa. (Home is represented by the blue marker at the bottom right. The shaded area shows very roughly the location and perimeter of the fire zone. Map updated Saturday morning at 10:55am.)

Since hearing Robin Williams singing Fire in the voice of Elmer Fudd many, many years ago, I can NEVER hear, say, or think the word fire without hearing it as fiii-wuh.

Surreal. A couple of days ago, they created a mandatory evacuation zone north (mountain side) of Cathedral Oaks and Fairview, extending toward Glen Annie (for those of you familiar with the area).

The power went out over most of town last night. It came back up earlier downtown, but was off at our place for about 4 hours. Thankfully, Sofie went to sleep before we couldn’t see anything. Tim and I went into the middle of the street at the end of our driveway, and you could totally see the flames straight ahead in the hills. Scary.

I went back inside, trying to play Sudoku while holding the puzzle book in one hand and a flashlight with the other. (Reminder to me: look for my cute purple Mag Light when I get home.) It made me wish I HAD bought those miner-like headband light thingies years ago, as I wanted. I’ve repeatedly told Tim over the years we needed ‘em; he disagreed. There have been times we’d be at some particular store, I’d see them, and pick them up with intention of buying them. “We don’t need those,” he’d say.

Not that I do everything he says. Hardly. And not that I don’t buy things because he tells me not to. HAAHAAHAARDLY. But I do know I have a penchant for buying useless crap. Perhaps these fell into that category? Apparently, they did not and do not. Hmph. See? Totally could have used one last night.

Ooooh…This one’s currently on sale at REI.

Other fun included text messaging with Patmo. She said her dogs were confused as to why she was lying on the floor in the dark. I guess, now that I think about it, I’m confused, too, Patmo. :/ I assured her that if I had to evacuate, I would be sure to grab our Janet Jackson tickets as I grabbed my, Tim’s, and Sofie’s birth certificates and other important papers.

When Tim went to bed around 10:30, I decided to drive and get a closer look. It was surreal, as there were no lights anywhere. The Vons on Turnpike was the only store I found to be open. I stopped to get a 9V battery for my radio, but they were wiped out. (Weird needing to depend on a radio!) Interestingly, they also declared they were NOT selling any frozen food.

Anyway, I then drove up to the point where the barricades were at the corner of Cathedral Oaks and Fairview. There were about a couple dozen other people there, too. And the cops, natch, directing traffic.

I’m glad I went. I got a better perspective of the fire, namely, that it wasn’t directly heading toward OUR home at the time, as it appeared from our driveway. It was, however, right above that corner upon which I was standing. BTW, Sofie’s daycare is 2 blocks south of the mandatory evacuation area.

Also at that time, they were saying that the direction of the fire was heading south (bad) and west, toward Glen Annie (Canyon). Whew, for now. We’re east.

It was an orderly situation at the barricade site. Everyone left the site around the same time, about 20 minutes after I got there. A couple minutes prior to my leaving, I heard:

* Faceless voice shout out to the Officer Directing Traffic, “Yeah, they’re sending a black and white.”
* Cute young blonde to her boyfriend, “Ooooh! I’m learning so much! “Black and White!”"

Officer Directing Traffic came out of the street and started walking our direction. I asked if there was any further word on containment, to which he responded in his best manly bad-ass voice while positioning his thumbs in his belt loops, “Nope. They haven’t told us anything.” He proceeded to walk just behind me, turned on his flashlight, and muttered something like, “Hmm… let’s see what’s up here.” He illuminated the No Parking sign with his flashlight. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

He continued walking up the sidewalk, flashed his light into the parked cars, “Nope, no one in there. Or this one either. Not this one. Hmmm… None of these cars.”

I guess everyone grew tired at the exact same time, because we all left right then and there.

This morning, I heard on the radio that it was 5% contained, and that it appeared to not have started naturally; speculation continues.

Where I go for information:
* EdHat
* SB Independent
* InciWeb site
* County of Santa Barbara

p.s.: Sending love and positive thoughts out into the universe for everyone, especially Dan and The Cabin.

I’ve been dancing with Sofie for quite some time now. However, it wasn’t until we were watching So You Think You Can Dance a few weeks ago when I noticed she got up and started to dance all on her own! (Btw, Mia Michaels? Frickin’ geeeeeenius!)

Last week, I grabbed Sofie and sat on the couch with her so we could watch SYTYCD together. Imagine my amusement when she stood up and totally started busting a move as Kherington and Twitch did their Napoleon and Tabitha-choreographed hip-hop routine to Busta Rhymes’s, Don’t Touch Me (Throw Da Water On ‘Em)

A proud mama am I of my little gangsta baby.

Originally uploaded by regina:rivera

Kerri hit the road Tuesday, aBANDoning me leaving Santa Barbara forever, moving to Boston. It’s still not real to me yet, so I’m not going to discuss it at this time.

Anyway, I sent her a text message at 1:55 PDT today, asking her take a picture of where she was at that moment and send it to me. She responded with the above. I dunno… She was in Utah last night… Not sure where these big fluffy clouds are drifting over.

All this talk is hammering the actuality into my brain a little more. Gotta stop this nonsense!

lalalalalalala

********
UPDATE from Kerri, about 4 hours after her first pic above:


Colorado :)

snow:)

********

I can imagine Hugh giving his longtime girlfriend, - and my dear friend - Karen, this 2 Carat Cup by Fred, thinking he was being funny.

Don’t do it, Hugh. Not unless you also have a Tiffany box ready in your pocket. Or I’m not around to kick your ass… or whatever is left over after Karen’s done with you.

By the way, if you’re unfamiliar with Fred, you really should remedy that right away. A few among the many Fred products I love:

Black Bars - when anonymity is a must.

Birthday Candelabra Candle - celebrate fabulously.

Toasted Notes - as with Post-Its, why didn’t I think of that?

On another kinda sorta related note, I want to congratulate my sister, Elysia, on her recent engagement to David! Whisked away to NYC for a long weekend, the proposal occurred atop Rockefeller Plaza. The deal was sealed with a custom designed, 1.5 carat emerald cut diamond (not counting the dozen or so pavé diamonds encircling the platinum band). Clarity: E… for Elysia, we surmised. The sucker is ginormous, especially when viewed on the hand of my petite sister who Tim refers to as the runt of the family.

You paying attention, Hugh?

Hell… Nevermind that… Are YOU paying attention, TIM?! :p

***

I’ve been trying to reclaim more time for myself lately. About a month ago, I realized I have had virtually no kind of break since Sofie’s been home… 14 months now. Well, I had one 24 hour period in LA and a 5 day trip back to KC. That was for a funeral though, so that doesn’t count.

A month ago, Tim went with me to my LONG OVERDUE therapy session. He, um, actually called to make the appointment on my behalf. I hadn’t been in, like, 11 months. But, hey, I was still seeing my psychiatrist every 4 months or so, so stop shaking your finger at me.

Having a baby, working full time, being an introvert who ends up staying awake until 2 a.m. most nights because she can only get time to herself after everyone has gone to bed… I’ve just been trying to get through each day. I didn’t need yet another obligation… another appointment… to get in my way.

Anyway, it was good to go. My therapist helped to translate my needs to Tim. He finally seemed to start understanding my comments, “There isn’t any of me left…” or “I’m all spent”… or “I need time to myself…”

(I know, I know. What’s not to understand, Tim? Okay. Let’s move on, everyone.)

My therapist helped us come up with a plan of action, and helped Tim to see that if I get more significant time to myself (2 hours here and there ain’t cutting it), I’ll be spending less time on poor substitutes for “me time,” which will result in more of me - happy me - for him.

Memorial Day weekend, I decided to stay home while Tim took Sofie to San Diego to visit with his family. THREE WHOLE DAYS to MYSELF. WON. DER. FUL. I got to hang with Karen, sleep in, go to the I Madonnari festival, power through Ugly Betty episodes awaiting me on my dvr… By the end of it all, I missed my baby and was eager to be with her again. Absence helped my heart grow fonder, and I was recharged.

I’ve also been taking more evenings to myself, going out with friends, trying to slowly reclaim part of my life for me. Last weekend, Karen, Kerri and I went to LA to - what else? - karaoke. And eat. ahem. By the way, I didn’t know one could overdose on Pocky. Yes, I have saved you all the trouble of finding out for yourselves. You are very welcome.

Pocky with crushed almonds. The giant box. yum.

Bless Tim for taking on Sofie all the while. But then again, he HAS had more opportunities to be away. Yeah, yeah, business trips are still work, BUT you don’t have a 24/7 physical obligation to someone. Not to mention I did BIRTH the baby… I’m playing that card for as long as possible. And after all of his Sofie-sitting, he WILL reap the benefit of having a happier me around, n’est-ce pas? Sounds win-win to me.

***

Anyway, as part of this recent resurfacing of my life, I’ve decided to stop trying to catch up on all of the (blog) reading on which I am behind. I hope you all will forgive me if I ask questions which you already answered months ago. Just humor me as you would your forgetful grandma, or your lush friend who can’t remember any details about last weekend’s bender.

Here I am. Now.

Today, I stumbled upon Drew Mackie’s blog. I LOVE the concept of the meme he posted, and am reminded of HOW MUCH good stuff I’ve been missing… written by my real world friends, blog friends, and friends-to-be. Thanks, Drew. I can’t wait to see what music you conjure up for my entry. :)

Everyone, go over and play with Drew!