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Last week I wrote about how a couple weeks ago my 14 year old daughter came to me to tell me that she is bisexual. It is something I am ok with so long it is something that she is okay with, and so right now it’s really a non-issue.

Although we are Catholic, I have a more progressive view on some issues, as is the Church now, really, especially being led by Pope Francis. But I have also has personal reasons to look at what I believe in regards to this because of some family members, so I have long known where I stood and what my thoughts are regarding this. But this post really isn’t about the religious aspect.

I have spent a lot of time thinking and reflecting on how I can talk to my daughter, like as a parent should we have a more in-depth conversation. I was trying to determine what I might need to address,    and what I could say as some parental wisdom without making her sexuality as issue or make her feel weird in some way. I went to my older daughter to see if  it was more just feelings at this point or she she had been sexually experimenting already, because there are very different conversations to have. The biggest thing I wanted to make sure of is that she didn’t feel broken somehow, or a weirdo or a freak or anything like that.

So I started to really think back to when I was a teen and my relationships before my husband. I have had relationships with girls, I have an attraction to women even to this day. Had I not met my husband when I did, I probably would have continued to date women as well. I just never classified myself as anything, and other then my friends who were around me back then, no one else (meaning my family) knew. Not because I hid it, but because I never felt the need to announce it or declare it, it was just something that was about me.

And I remembered that the group of us from high school, my close group of girl friends, used to say in the most loving way that I wasn’t “normal”. “Charlotte isn’t normal.” Not in a hateful way at all. Just in a funny joking way of classifying me, because I was always different and marched to my own beat and did my own thing, and had weirdo thoughts and liked weird music and really just went against every mainstream, normal thing everyone else is doing. I am still that person, I just don’t notice it as much because of the great big internet and lots of life experiences that we are all our own brand of weirdos really. Back then I just wasn’t afraid to push boundaries or social norms or have relationships because they felt right without having to announce it or label it. Maybe it was a little bit of the 90’s vibe, at least in the greater circle I was in....there was a lot of room to be yourself and not have to have a name for it, and I didn’t know anyone personally who felt tortured by it at all. And I ran around in many different social circles made up with very different people.

But searching for way to help my child, I had to take a look at myself first. And thanks to a couple of very good friends, I have been able to see that although I have been married to a man for almost 2 decades, I don’t exactly identify as straight...that without even realizing I was, I am a bisexual person, I would identify as queer. It’s rather ironic that it would take my daughter declaring her bisexuality for me to name mine. And, in fact, my husband has always told me he thought if we ever split up I would end up with a women...he would joke and tease me about it, but I guess he could see my bisexuality for what it is, as opposed to myself who never labeled it. To be clear...that doesn’t mean I wish I was with a woman now or anything...it just means that I am capable of being attracted to both sexes.

It actually explains a lot about me, in the way I think and feel and process the world around me. It actually goes way deeper than just superficially being attracted to different genders. It kind of explains a huge part of the reason why I have never felt like I truly fit in with anyone, why I have trouble fitting in and making friends, because  it’s all encompassing.

The most ironic part is that when I told my oldest friends about this whole thing, and said to my husband that everything lately made me realize I was bisexual, everyone was like “yeah, duh, we have always known that. I can’t believe it took you this long to say it. Didn’t you know? Lol hahaha”

I guess I always knew. I just didn’t feel like there was any reason to say it. Until now.

broken

All this loss is really triggering something in me. Maybe it sounds odd to some people, but my dogs are like my kids. I love them and they are a huge part of our family. They are my buddies.

And this is soooooo stupid but I have baby fever. Like so, so badly. I don’t understand these feelings or why I am still having them. I wish to God they would just go away. It’s just so beyond ridiculous. Everyone I know is somehow neatly able to tick all that away and say “I am done” and quite literally be done with it. Is something broken in me that I am not capable (clearly) of doing that???

Loss of a pet is directly tied to my own pregnancy loss. The second time that happened, I ended up adopting 2 dogs, and one of them was the one that just passed away. And now I have this huge desire inside of me to nuture something small and tiny. As if my life needs something like a puppy, or hell even a new baby for that matter, but that’s what my heart is telling me it wants right now. Not at all that a dog and a baby are comparable...but they both fulfill the same need in a way.

I feel broken. Why can’t I function like every other person I know? Why do I have to let the dream give up on me, instead of giving up the dream? Why am I broken?

The mouse in the kitchen

Once upon a time we lived in a house that got invaded by mice due to some neighboring construction. We had tried everything under the sun imaginable and googleable, and nothing was working. All along my husband kept saying how we just needed to get a cat. I was always resistant to that because I am not at all a cat person, and we also have a child who is pretty allergic to them. We also had two dogs at this point, one of them being a German Shepard who was still a puppy.

After a while it became clear that we were losing this battle with the mice, so I gave in and we went to a local shelter and adopted a kitten. She was acting crazy, scaling the cage like Spider-Man, so my husband picked her. She was young and tiny, and I swear within the first week of having her she brought me her first mouse.

Because she was so tiny, our vet suggested keeping her separated from our German Shepard for a while to let them get used to each other, because even playing the Shepard could accidentally hurt her. So we kept her downstairs and kept the basement door shut, but they would play with each other under the door all the time. She is a very vocal cat and would always ask to be let up, and we would let her up from time to time to play, but it would get rowdy real quick and we wanted to prevent her from getting hurt.

It didn’t take long for us to stop seeing (live) mice anymore. This kitten was clearly intercepting them from the basement where they were finding their way in.

One day my son (who was probably 5 at the time) came to me and said “Mom, there is a mouse standing in the kitchen.”

“Buddy, mice don’t stand still. I don’t think so.”

He kept bugging me and repeating that there was a mouse standing in the kitchen. I finally got up to go see what he was talking about, thinking he had watched too much Tom and Jerry or something.

Well.

There in the kitchen was a mouse. I don’t think it was standing so much as it couldn’t move, but it was alive. On the other side of the door I hear the kitten meowing and swinging her paws underneath the door.

This smart little kitten found a mouse, maimed it, and shoved it under the door to us, so that we would find it and let her up to finish the job. She didn’t like the door being shut and wanted to come and go as she pleased. So after that, we left the door open, and got a gate so that she could get over it, but the dogs couldn’t get to her or her food or litter box.

Smart little kitten.

Last week

Oh geeze. Last week was rough, you guys. I don’t even know.

The Friday before the weekend (a full week ago) one of my older kids came down sick with the dreaded stomach bug. That weekend, the little boys and I came down with a nasty cold. (Side note, this is what happens when the weather warms up for a day in the middle of winter and everyone who has been cooped up ends up at local playgrounds.) Early Monday morning my husband wakes me up to let me know he is now sick with the stomach bug. The weather was bad and icy so all the kids were off of school, and no one felt well so everyone was cranky. And I had no hope of getting some help since my husband was sick. My daughter got called in to work and needed a ride, and someone broke the wiper of my “new” van trying to clear the ice. Luckily it was on the passenger side so I could still drive and clear the windshield to see.

Tuesday was another day missed of school and another day of a house full of sickness. I found out some disturbing news about my grandfather (dad’s dad) we never knew, thanks to my brother who is doing family research to make a tree. Turns out he was a pimp for the mob who did time in San Quentin before my dad was conceived. No one knows if my dad knew these things, and there is no one alive left to ask.

Wednesday I had two more kids who started with the whole puking/stomach bug thing. By Thursday I had it and had to deal with it alone with 3 kids who were home with it as well. I got to take a nap Thursday evening. When I got up and came downstairs, still pretty sick, my younger daughter decided that was a great time to tell me she is bisexual. It came out of left field and wasn’t something even on my radar, so that surprised me. I just hugged her and told her I loved her and asked if she needed to talk about it, and she said no she was happy and ok. If I had felt better we would have had a more in-depth discussion, but for now that is that.

Friday morning my sister called to tell me my niece didn’t get in to the program she was trying to, and since my niece has been living up here and is with me a lot she asked if I could talk to her and try and help her figure out next steps for a career. I still wasn’t feeling really good, and the lasts of my kids to get sick was home with it as well. My friend called me very upset because her mom is battling cancer, and she is getting conflicting things from doctors and wanted advice and an ear to listen. My emotional reserves are running super low after this, and I wish I had someone to talk to as well.  Friday night when we were trying to feed everyone who felt ok, the littlest boy puked all over the kitchen.

That night my husband wanted to keep all the sick boys in one room with him in case they had trouble overnight, so I got to sleep upstairs. (I usually sleep downstairs when I have to get up earky for work so I don’t wake everyone up with my alarm at 4am.) I slept well and woke up still feeling icky but I made it to work. By the time I got to work and clocked in my phone was going off with texts from my husband to call him, which is unusual, especially so early. My dog who had been sick but was being treated and better died in her sleep and he found her asleep on the couch. He buried her in the backyard. I came home to a very sad and upset house. My stomach still felt weird and I got more nauseous as the night went on. I ended up waking up in the middle of the night really sick again so I had to miss work. I slept half of yesterday and finally started feeling better late last night.

Today I decided to fix myself something good for breakfast and managed to drop my plate and shatter it all over the kitchen, so half of breakfast wasn’t salvageable.

It has to go up from here, right?!?