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Archive for the ‘Letters’ Category


My Baby Girl,

It’s been a year.  Three hundred and sixty-five full days. 

I’m not a superstitious person by any means, but these dates – November 10th, 11th and 12th – have been looming in my mind. 

When we came home from the hospital, a year ago today, I made a deal with myself that if I could keep you healthy for a year, I could stop worrying so much about your future. 

A whole year.  A lofty goal, if ever there was one.

But here you are, my gorgeous little girl, smiling and laughing without a care in the world.  We made it, me and you.  A year.  Nearly a third of your life without a major illness. 

What a milestone, and you don’t even know you’ve reached it.

Just looking at you, today, brings tears to my eyes.

Parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, you know.  And I don’t.  I don’t prefer you or your sister over each other.  But my love for each of you is different.  Custom made, day by day.

So much of life before you was filled with what the future held, with making plans, with expectations, with tiny little details that didn’t really matter.

Since you came into my life, though, I haven’t taken a single thing for granted.  Not for a moment. 

We’ve had to fight for this, haven’t we, baby girl?  From the very beginning, nothing about your life has been simple or ordinary. 

I sit back and watch you sometimes, doing your little girl things, and I’m amazed that we have reached this place.  This point in time where you can just wake up in the morning and go through your day like it’s no big deal.  As though tomorrow is guaranteed. 

I am so happy to be in this place – this now – with you.

You amaze me, my sassy second child.  You are filled with the kind of fire most people only dream of, and you’re only three.  Three! 

Today, I dare to think of what the future holds for you. 

And now here you are, sleeping next to me.

Of course I needed you near me on the anniversary of the most traumatic night of our lives, didn’t I?  The night that haunted us for months.  The night that changed the lives of every single person involved.

I had to have you close to me, so that I could smell you and hear you breathe and bury my face in your hair.  So that I could reach out and touch you and know that you are here, right here, with me.

I am so glad you’re here, baby girl.

And you are well. 

Yes, you are.


To read the story from a year ago, go here, here and here although, reading those posts again, a year later, I can’t believe I left out so much of what happened.

On Your Sixth Birthday

My darling Alison,

You were born in the caul on a blustery Tuesday morning at 4:47 A.M, six years ago.

Six whole years ago, you came into my life.

How I love you, my first born.  More than you could imagine.  More than you’ll ever know. 

The moment I saw your face, I changed forever.  

You held my heart in your hands, and there it remains.  There it will always be.

You made me a mother, and I am determined to make you as proud of me as I am of you.

I cherish everything about you.  Do you know how I memorize your face as you dream?

You are the sun and the moon and the stars, and every little thing in between.  

You are my everything; my student, my teacher.


For you, I wish all the things your little mind can imagine.

I love you, today and every day, my shining star.

All my love, forever…


**Edited to add: 
After reading this letter, Alison wrote me a letter on my computer:


*All photos courtesy of Kelly Roberts, who has an amazing ability to capture my child’s essence.*

Sixteen Years

Dear Alex,

Sixteen years you’ve been gone.

After all this time, you are still such a part of our lives.  We talk about what you would have thought or said or done as life’s moments pass us by.

We miss your humor, your hugs, your thoughtfulness.  We think about how our lives would be different if you had lived.  Would we have made our biggest mistakes with you there?  You were so good at pointing us in the right direction.

You were the glue, Alex.  The rock.  The light.

You are so missed.  So incredibly loved.  Today and every day.

Who You’d Be Today ~ by Kenny Chesney

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
I feel you everywhere I go

I see your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain
I still can’t believe you’re gone

It ain’t fair, you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death, tore the pages all away

God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I’ve been through
Just knowing no one could take your place

Sometimes, I wonder… who you’d be today

Would you see the world?
Would you chase your dreams?
Settle down with a family?
I wonder, what would you name your babies?

Some days the sky’s so blue
I feel like I can talk to you
And I know it might sound crazy

It ain’t fair, you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death, tore the pages all away

God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I’ve been through
Just knowing no one could take your place

Sometimes I wonder… who you’d be today

Today, Today, Today
Today, Today, Today

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know, I’ll see you again someday

Someday, Someday…

Things I’ve Learned From Hanging Around the Courthouse

Dear People at the Courthouse,

I’m not sure exactly why you’re here.  Maybe you got a traffic ticket, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bitter custody battle with your asshole of an ex.  Could be, you got caught doing something you shouldn’t have.  Regardless, here you are, hanging around the halls of the courthouse while I happen to be on Jury Duty.

Some of you will dress up for your day in court.  You’ll don a suit and tie, maybe throw on a pair of heels.  The deputies will nod pleasantly at you as you walk past.  But the majority of you?  Apparently have never heard of making a good impression.

Showing up reeking of cigarette smoke, looking like you haven’t had a shower since Bush was in the White House (and I’m talking George H., not Dubya), does not make the court sympathetic to your cause.  And I’m painfully aware that we live in the Second Meth Capital of California, but do you really have to make it so obvious?

No doubt you’ve noticed the sign on the wall that says, “No shorts or tank tops in the courtroom”, but seriously.  That doesn’t mean you should wear SpongeBob pajama pants to stand in front of a judge and plead your case.  Now is not the time to showcase your tattoo sleeve, either.  Cover it up, just for today, m’kay?  You can go back to being shirtless (and shoeless, I suppose) the moment you walk out the front door, I promise. 

Also?  I spend about 8 hours a day in the courthouse.  I know that sometimes, shit happens.  Especially if you’re like me and have been trying to consume more fiber and drink lots of water.  But dropping a bomb in the stall and then walking away from it, without flushing?  That is just wrong on so many levels.

So, take my advice and try to step up your game, just for today.  I’ll even give you a cheat sheet to keep in your pocket:

– No stink of any kind
– Real pants 
– Shoes without holes
– Cover your tats
– Leave your pocketknife at home (no, they won’t believe you forgot)
– Try not to act like a tweaker

I expect to see some improvement next week!


Time in a Bottle

A little over a year ago, the company my husband worked for decided to close their plumbing division.  Not surprising, given the downward spiral the housing market has been in.  What makes it an especially interesting decision, on the part of the company, is that merely one year before, they had bought the plumbing company my husband and his brother had built up together in order to create that division.

We were faced with a decision: start our own company, just the two of us, or go find a job in a sagging economy.  With contracts still waiting to be fulfilled from the closing company, we threw together a business.  I’m proud to say that after a year, our little company is thriving despite the economy.

However.  With a business comes sacrifices.  When we started, I had just finished earning my certificate to be a childbirth educator and was set to start teaching classes a few times a month at the birth center where I’d given birth.  That dream was set on a back burner.

My husband, an athlete who treats his body as a temple, cut back on his workouts, slowly at first, but eventually had no time for them.

As a family, we have less time together than ever before.  But we have food on our table, stable jobs, health insurance.  I don’t regret the decision to start our business, but some of the sacrifices we make sadden me.

Through those sacrifices, I have clung to this blog and to the blogosphere in general, because having lived a some-what isolated life for many years out here on this ranch, blogging has allowed me to have a voice and stretch my cramped social wings.  I protected my blogging time like a mama bird protects her fragile egg.

If they sold time in a bottle at Target, I would buy a whole case, just so that I could continue blogging while taking care of all that is required of me at the end of the year.  But since it hasn’t gone on sale yet, I’m having to make cut-backs. 

The end of the year is an important and busy time for any business, but especially a small one who has to make sure every i is dotted, every t crossed before December 31st comes, and mistakes can no longer be fixed.  We are also gearing up for the holiday season, and Jeremy’s Grandma’s annual two week visit from North Carolina. 

In short, my invisible friends, the blog hasn’t made it through budget cuts this time around.  I’ve resisted this for as long as possible, but the time has come.  If my husband can get rid of some of his animals, I can take a blogging hiatus.  It’s only fair.

How I will miss meeting my blogging friends on this great invention called the internet.  When I return in January, your children will have grown, many of you will be working new jobs, and your blogs will have grown as well, while mine sat here, ignored and empty.  Unless anyone decides to read my archives, that is.

I hope that when I return, we can pick up our friendships where they left off, because I treasure them.  I will be updating Sexy Makes a Comeback occasionally, because I’ll be working on those tips anyway.  When I’m feeling especially lonesome, I’ll visit some of your blogs and see how you are.   

If anyone needs to reach me (or in case you’ve found time in a bottle on clearance) email me at Jerdre53 (at) aol (dot) com.

I look forward to January, and I hope to see you then!