You Inspire Me

Everyday, we are faced with a choice. We can be happy, or we can be sad.
Of course, there are a million other emotions that fall in between, but most of them will lean towards one of those two options.
I'll be honest, I don't always wake up happy. Sometimes I struggle with the heavy weight of sadness, and I have to fight to push it off.
But day after day, I encounter things that amaze and inspire me. People who smile through heartbreak and pain.
Just today, sitting at my desk, staring out the window, watching the world go by, I have seen a blind man out alone, enjoying a walk. I've seen a young girl with a walker and leg braces cruising by my window with a brilliant smile on her face. I've witnessed countless people stop in the midst of their busy lives to admire a stunning mural, recently painted on the side of the building across the street. I've seen a mentally challenged young man riding his bike, stopping to smile or greet each person he passed.
Day after day, I am inspired by the world around me. By people who are kind, even when those around them are cruel. People who are filled with beauty, in an otherwise ugly world. People who can find the silver lining on any black cloud.
You hear stories and see videos of people doing heroic acts, overcoming immense challenges, and beating the odds. Of folks paying it forward, giving selflessly, and making a difference.
THIS is the world I'm proud to be a part of. Not the ugly, evil, cruel world that you see on the news. Yes, those things are out there. But they aren't the ONLY things out there. For every tragedy, somewhere there is also a happy ending.
To all of you individuals out there, doing good, and being positive... I hope you know it isn't in vain. There are countless others, like myself, who bear witness, and are inspired to be more like you. Maybe I don't say it enough, maybe my quiet gratitude needs to become shouted gratitude, but I am so thankful for you. Thank you, smiling strangers. Thank you, selfless givers. Thank you, optimists. Thank you, beautiful souls. Thank you to everyone who has made a difference in the lives of those around you, no matter how small it may have seemed. You are my heroes, and you inspire me.

How Do You Define Family?

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about family, and what that word means to me.
To most people, family means the people you share DNA with, or who have your same last name. But it's not always that simple to define.
I grew up in a semi non traditional family. My parents had 4 kids together, but I also have two half siblings from my father's previous marriage. (I have two step brothers as well, from my mother's second marriage.) And growing up, we had a plethora of foster kids in and out of our home for several years.
Fast forward to middle school, and I am given the assignment of making a family tree. I sit down with my parents to work it out, and realize that most of the relatives that I have grown up loving are not actually related to me by blood. My extended family is a true showcase of what it means to love and accept the family we are born into, along with the family that we find along the way.
My grandparents didn't buy into the YOUR kids and MY kids idea. It was OUR kids. Period. That mentality has blossomed and become second nature with my relatives. I could spend hours trying to sort out the who's who, but none of that matters. The only thing that matters is love & loyalty.
When I think about family, I think about the people who have been there for me through thick and thin. The people who have supported me, even when I didn't deserve it. The people who have laughed with me, cried with me, and grown with me. To be fair, some of those people ARE related to me by blood, but many, many more are not. They are the family I've chosen. And the family that has chosen me.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about what it means to be a mom, and how many don't consider me a "real" mom, because I didn't carry my son inside of me. My friend Thea summed it up perfectly. She said "You didn't grow a child inside of your belly, you grew him inside of your heart." and I truly think that is a beautiful way of viewing it. I think real families are grown in the heart.
Family isn't about DNA, or last names. It isn't about who gives birth to you even. The true sign of a family is so much deeper than that.
Some of you are lucky, and your blood family is all you could ever ask for. But for many of us, those familial connections come from somewhere else.
Maybe it's a step parent, or foster parent who raised you. Maybe it's best friends who feel more like siblings. Maybe your only family is the one you made yourself, with your spouse and your children. Whatever that connection is, it isn't any less real because it doesn't fit the "traditional" design.
The mark of a family isn't in shared blood. It is in the ones who would bleed for you. The ones who would give their life for yours. The ones who sacrificed time, energy, sweat and tears to make a place for you in their lives, and their hearts. The ones who you know, without question, you can count on no matter what. The ones who love you, not just at your best, but at your worst. The ones who see your value and worth, even when you can't. The ones who pick you up when you fall, lend a shoulder to lean on, and wrap you in their arms when everyone else walks away. The strongest families are the ones who have walked through fire together, and come out the other side.
I want to take a moment today and say thank you to my family. You know who you are. As dysfunctional, weird, and crazy as we all are... I couldn't imagine my life without any of you. I love you all. Thanks for putting up with me.

Why I'm Proud I Took The #ALSIceBucketChallenge

I was recently nominated by my friend, Vanessa, to take the Ice Bucket Challenge. I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I had no idea what it was. I am rarely up to date on trends and celebrity stuff, so I hadn't heard all the fuss yet.
So I did what any normal person does... I Googled it.
What I found was more than the rules to a challenge. I found countless stories of individuals fighting this disease. ALS, or more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's Disease, is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord. There is no cure for this disease, and there are no treatments that halt or reverse it. ALS is a fatal disease. And one that puts the sufferer through countless unimaginable and painful struggles. For a better insight into the life of someone with ALS, please check out this blog post.

'What an ALS Family Really Thinks About the Ice Bucket Challenge'

So after much research, I decided that while I might not be able to do much, anything was better than nothing. So I went to alsa.org and made a donation. I'll be honest, it wasn't a lot. But it was what I could afford. Then I filled a bucket with ice water, and made a video. I challenged three people who I thought would be generous, and good sports.
I didn't put on a tiny white t-shirt (though I had a few requests) and I didn't do it for personal attention. To be completely frank, I hate being on camera. But it was for a good cause, so I did it.
Fast forward less than 24 hours, and my social media is bombarded with ice bucket challenge shaming. Yes, you read that right... SHAMING. People who are angry or annoyed by the idea. How is that even possible? How can you be upset by people just trying to do a good thing?
The reasons vary. From "It doesn't do any good." to "It's a waste of water." to "What's the point?" and on and on and on.
If $23 MILLION dollars in donations (and counting) isn't a good thing, what is? That's money that will help families of those suffering, help fund research, and hopefully go towards someday finding a cure for this debilitating, awful, and deadly disease. I don't think that's any kind of a waste. Could you go and donate without dousing yourself in ice water? Of course you could. And if that makes you feel more altruistic and better than those who do... by all means, please do so. But not everyone can afford to donate. So why not do something to at least help bring awareness? Because awareness breeds action, and action is exactly what is needed. Prior to this most people had no idea what ALS even was. Now, not only do they know, but they are helping others to fight it.
For years, people have found creative ways to help bring attention to their causes. Walk-a-thons, Balls, Fairs & Carnivals, Charity Sporting Events and more. The Ice Bucket Challenge is just part of a new movement of using social media and good humor to bring much needed awareness to something that may otherwise not get it. If you can find fault in that, then maybe you need to stop judging others, and take a good look at yourself.
Enough with the shaming and negative posts already. There is absolutely no good that comes from doing that. And whether you wish to accept it or not, I can give you 23 million reasons why the Ice Bucket Challenge is worth it.
I proudly accepted the challenge, and I look forward to seeing my social media blow up with more people doing the same. And whatever the next popular, trending challenge is, I'll support that too if it's for a good cause.

(Me accepting the challenge)

For those of you interested in finding out more about ALS and how you too can help, please go to alsa.org right now and join the movement. 

Horses in Heaven (a poem)

Horses in Heaven (a poem for Aunt Jennie)

I wonder if there are horses in Heaven,
and fields of emerald green.
With trails from here to forever, 
and no dirty stalls to clean.

I wonder if there are horses in Heaven,
with manes of shiny gold.
And the weather is always perfect,
not too hot or too cold. 

I wonder if there are horses in Heaven,
that you can ride all day and all night.
And you never grow tired from riding,
because your soul is happy and light.

I wonder if there are horses in Heaven,
with eyes that sparkle like stars.
And freedom to roam the hillsides,
no ropes, no fences, no bars. 

I know there are horses in Heaven,
and now they'll have loving care.
For today an angel did join them,
and she'll ride for eternity there. 

*Ride in peace Aunt Jennie (Jennifer Cowdrey Larson)
You will be missed here on Earth, but you will be carried in our hearts forever.*
Written August 17, 2014 by Teena M. Hauxwell-Finn 

What Makes A Mom?

There appears to be a huge baby boom happening right now. It seems like everywhere I turn, someone is either announcing a pregnancy or giving birth.
For a grieving parent, this is as painful as it is joyous. But for me, it is a struggle on yet another level. And one that I know I'm not alone in. I've debated talking about this for a long time, but I think I'm finally ready.

I'm not a mom. Not a "real" mom, anyway.
I've never carried a life inside of me and felt it move and grow. I've never watched my belly swell and spent hours searching for the perfect name for my little miracle. I've never looked into a tiny, innocent little face and saw my own eyes staring back at me. I've never fed an infant from my breast and felt the wonder and joy that come from that magical bonding moment.
When groups of women get together, inevitably, at some point, the conversation will turn to pregnancy, labor, and delivery stories. I will forever sit quietly, unable to participate.
I'll never be a "real" mom. That is just not something that was ever in the cards for me I guess. It was not a hand that I was, or ever will be dealt.

But I have felt the overwhelming, unconditional, and all consuming love for a small person that takes over your universe. I have been awakened at night by a frightened little boy climbing into my bed, or cries from across the hall when fever and sickness strike. I have spent days cleaning up vomit and snotty tissues, and made late night runs for medicine and popsicles.
I have felt the frustration of repeating myself hundreds and thousands of times to no avail. I have woke up early to pack lunches and sit at cold, wet bus stops, and been called at work to bring money to the school when that packed lunch was forgotten on the bus.
I have held the small hand of a scared and nervous little boy as he walked in for his very first day of kindergarten, and watched that same boy run into his first day of middle school with barely a glance back in my direction as I dropped him off.
I have read the same book over and over so many times that I had it memorized, and then heard it again for the first time when it was read to ME in a small, tentative voice. I have watched with pride as a little boy finally learned to tie his shoes, ride his bike, and write his name. And I've been overwhelmed with emotion as that same boy walked across a graduation stage, with honors, to collect his diploma.
I've felt the guilt and doubt that follows discipline, even when you know it was for their own good.
I've felt the struggle of staying home, and questioned my sanity after hours of talking only about Pokémon characters and mind numbing cartoons. Of wishing someone, ANYONE would stop by, just to have some other adult contact.
And I've felt the worry the first time I allowed him to come home to an empty house, and stared at my work phone, just waiting for it to ring to know he made it safely.
I've sat on the sidelines at soccer and basketball games and wondered why we paid money for this kid to pass the ball to the other team, and then cheered at tennis matches when we realized he'd finally found his niche.
I have felt my heart swell and skip a beat when an adorable little boy handed me a corsage and escorted me to our first mother son dance. And I've laughed as a much older version of that little boy demonstrated his dance skills at family weddings.
I've watched a child grow into an intelligent, loving, kind, funny, compassionate, genuine man, and felt the immense pride at knowing I had a part in that.
And I've felt the indescribable, immeasurable, unfathomable pain of your heart being ripped from your chest as I walked into a hospital room to a sight NO ONE should ever have to see.

Everyone has their own ideas of what makes a parent, and there will always be people out there who question and deny anyone who doesn't share a blood bond with their child. And while it hurts me deeper than they will ever know when they take that from me, I also hold my head high, knowing that the only person who REALLY mattered knew the truth.
So no, I'm not a "real" mom, but I am a mom. And now I'm the mom of an angel.

The Costs of Giving The Gift of Life...

Yesterday I did something that I wasn't sure I would ever be able to do.
I responded to a letter from a recipient of one of our son's organs. She wrote us back in January of last year to thank us and to let us know that receiving Zach's kidney saved her life. She told us about her children, her illness, and the call that gave her a second chance at living. She expressed immense gratitude and a desire to someday meet us.
I can't tell you how many times I've read and reread her letter. From the moment we decided to donate our son's organs, I wondered what it would be like if and when we ever heard from a recipient. I wondered if knowing that someone's life was saved would make me feel better or more at peace with our decision. If I were to be completely honest with you... I feel nothing. Each time I read her letter, I wait. I wait to feel something, anything. But I don't.
Don't get me wrong, I don't regret our decision to donate. It was the right choice, and it's what Zach would have wanted. But if you watch the TV and movies, you'd think that there's this immediate feeling of warmth and happiness that follows the act. They lead you to believe that there will be a feeling of peace that comes with knowing your loved one didn't die in vain. But that's not true. What I feel is an overwhelming numbness.
I've sat down to respond to her letter dozens of times. And each time I've sat there with a blank mind and a broken heart. How do you respond to something like that? What do you say? "I'm happy that you get to keep living, but I'd much rather still have my son."? or better yet "How lucky you are to get to see your children grow, but we lost ours in the process, so I don't really give a shit."?
How cold hearted and awful that sounds, but that is the God's honest truth. I don't care. She's a stranger to me, and the fact that she was given a second chance but my son wasn't makes me angry and resentful. The unfairness of it all is something that I will eternally struggle with.
But... I needed to respond. I know that if the roles were reversed, I would want a response. And she was told nothing of her donor. She doesn't know that her savior was our only child, our reason for living, and our whole world. I wanted her to know who he was. She now carries a piece of him, and I needed her to understand how special and amazing he was, and what a gift she was truly given.
Here's the catch. Gift of Life has all these rules for writing to donors and recipients. And you must send the letter to them to be forwarded, so they will read it and edit anything they see fit. So it's not as though you can just write from your heart. You must adhere to strict guidelines, which makes writing an already difficult letter even more impossible.
So after much writing and rewriting, I finally completed it. It's not warm and fuzzy. In fact, I'm sure to some, it would come off as cold or uncaring. But it was the best I could do. I also included a few photos of Zachary, so that she could put a face to a name and number, because that's what I would want.
I told her that I wish her continued good health and a long and fulfilling life. Which is true. I just wish it hadn't come at such a cost.
I dropped the letter in the mail this morning. I hesitated at the last moment, but I knew it had to be done. It was something that had been weighing on me for some time.
But I don't feel relieved. Once again, I just don't feel anything....



Is That A Spy Drone In Your Pants, or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

Yesterday, I saw at least 20 posts on Facebook about the new messenger app. People were frothing at the mouth in fear of installing it, because they were afraid of being spied on, and other privacy based issues. Really? I have the new messenger app, and so far, I can honestly say that no men in black suits have stormed my home, no drones have appeared in my shower, and I haven't noticed a single difference in the way my phone works. 
Now, to be fair, I don't read all the terms and conditions when I download an app. Maybe somewhere in the fine print, it mentions that the Men in Black will now be listening in on all of my conversations, or randomly activating my camera, but I'm too lazy to read it all. So if that's the case, I hope they like hearing about boobs and rally, and watching me read. Because that's about as exciting as my life gets. 
And unless some of you are super spies, or secret terrorists, I somehow doubt the NSA, CIA, FBI, or WNBA gives a hairy rat's ass what you are doing, who you are talking to, how many cat videos you watch, and the GPS coordinates of your favorite Chinese restaurant. 
Now don't get me wrong, I like my privacy as much as the next gal. But I also have accepted that we live in a technological age, and unfortunately, that comes with some drawbacks. If you use a computer, cell phone, have cable or Netflix, spend any time on social media, use a credit card, GPS, or any other form of modern life, you WILL be subject to risks. That's a fact. Your information will get out, and sometimes it will end up in the wrong hands. There is no 100% surefire way to avoid it. Unless you feel like moving into a cave, growing your own food, and essentially living off the grid. And while some days, that sounds like the best idea ever, it's not truly realistic. Plus, I like my internet porn and car videos. 
So here's the reality... 
NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU ARE DOING. I know, shocking, right? While I'm sure YOU think that you are the next James Bond or Batman... in the real world, you are just another average schmo. You aren't a threat to the government, and you aren't even registering on anyone's radar. Contrary to popular belief, the NSA has a lot more concerns on its plate than monitoring what level bridge troll status you've reached in World of Virgincraft. 
I mean... how big does your ego have to be to think that YOU, out of the billions of people on the planet, warrant that kind of attention? 
And IF, for some reason, you ARE a secret spy, terrorist, or have something to hide... GET THE HELL OFF OF FACEBOOK! I'm pretty sure that's like #1 in the "How to be a bad guy" handbook for cripe's sake. 
We need to start being more realistic, and we need to quit giving in to the fear mongering, conspiracy theorists. We need to use our common sense, and not rely on the opinions of others. 
Nearly every website you visit, app you download, and business you utilize is collecting some data from you. Whether that information is being used to help better serve you, or to try and sell you something is up for debate. We all say we want more personalized service, yet we cringe when someone asks us for any personal information. We say we want "smarter" phones, yet we freak out if that means agreeing to give up some of our privacy. Well we can't have it all. Social media is free, which means that they NEED to make money somewhere, and that money is in advertising. That means they are going to try and collect any data they can to use on that behalf. Don't like it? Don't use it. It's that simple. 
Now.... if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to building my glitter bombs, and plotting my sparkly world takeover.

10 Things I Just Don't Understand

You know those moments when you find yourself with a weird look on your face, thinking "What. The. Fuck?" Yeah, me too. Several times a day actually.
So I've decided to compile a list of things that I just do not understand. Maybe y'all can help me to sort out the whats and whys of these 10 mysteries of the universe.

1. Photos of your coffee. I mean... why? We get it, you drink coffee. But do you really think that YOUR cup looks better or more appealing than the next guys? Unless the barista drew a penis on your Styrofoam cup, or your latte foam resembles Jesus.... we don't care.

2. Dog clothes. Here's the thing, your dog is covered with this amazing thing called fur. It keeps them warm. That means, that little Fluffy really doesn't need a sweater, boots, and hat. And while I'm on the subject, unless your dog or cat is missing legs, it CAN walk on its own. Save your purses for your handguns, wallets and lipstick, and strollers are for babies. Human babies. Got it? Good.

3. Crocs. I just... I can't... No. Just no. You can make all the "good reasons" excuses you want, but the fact is, Crocs are the STD of the shoe world. So stop it. And don't just throw them away, either. Burn them, and bury the ashes on sacred ground, just in case. Better safe than Croc-ed.

4. Shared social media. Why? Are you a child? Do you need to be monitored? You know the accounts are free, right? And you can tell me that it has nothing to do with a lack of trust until you're blue in the face, and I simply won't believe you. Also... it's annoying as hell for your friends. Who are we talking to? Who's posting? We don't know! Why? BECAUSE YOU SHARE AN ACCOUNT! So if you insist on sharing, could you, at the very least, be courteous enough to end each post/comment with a "Sincerely yours, (name here)" or something?

5. Off road vehicles that have never been off road. Oh, so you own a jacked up Jeep, with giant tires and a winch? Cool, where do you rock climb? Yeah, that's right, YOU DON'T! The closest thing to off road your vehicle has ever seen is the gravel in your driveway. *eye roll*

6. The selfie over doer. You know who you are. You are probably duck faced and bent over with your finger on the camera button as I type this. But why? Do you really think you look THAT much different/better than you did 35 seconds ago? Enough is enough. Stop it already, your stench of desperation is clogging my nostrils. And for God's sake, clean your room. Because we CAN see your disgusting mess of a bedroom/bathroom behind you.

7. Touchy subject pushers. I don't care what religion or politics you practice. I don't care what your thoughts on abortion, breast feeding, GMOs, gay rights, etc. are. If you feel compelled to post about it a thousand times a day.... I hate you. If it's something you feel very strongly about, and want to make the occasional post, fine. But do you really think that your rants are going to change someone's mind? You are just looking for an excuse to stir the shit pot, so knock it off. Oh, and do your research before you hit the share button, please. Not everything you see on the interwebs is true.

8. Smokers. I truly don't understand this. We KNOW the dangers of smoking. We can no longer pretend to be ignorant of this. Even second hand smoke is incredibly dangerous, so why, WHY are people still intentionally harming themselves? Not to mention the cost. If you quit smoking, imagine all the much more enjoyable things you could do with the money you saved. Like hookers and booze. Seriously... please just quit.

9. Reality TV. The Bachelor/Bachelorette, Honey Boo Boo, Real Housewives, etc. Whose reality is this? Do you truly think this stuff isn't scripted? Is there NOTHING better we can put on television? I just don't get it... I'd rather watch grass grow or paint dry.

10. This thing.

WTF is that? Are we repurposing hair scrunchies from the 90s into men's swimwear? Does the strap rotate side to side for when your nuggets need to be rearranged? Can you even wear this if you HAVE nuggets? What is holding this thing on? What if the water is cold, and you get shrinkage? Will it fall off? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!! The biggest one being.... Why?

*Disclaimer: These are just things that I personally do not understand. While I may very well BE judging you for some of them, that is not the intention of this post, so go drink your Haterade somewhere else.