Monday, September 30, 2013

Says the Honu

I woke up yesterday in a bum mood. It doesn't matter why (though I'm probably going to tell you anyways), but I just felt like crap. It wasn't just the mono, or the fact that I had hurt feelings over a stupid facebook status or five (facebook anxiety is a real thing, I totally didn't just make that up), I just felt... hollow. I was slumping around like some kind of half monkey ancestral human cavewoman person thing, mumbling under my shortness of breath, and even pouting (even with a giant mug of my favorite fiery chai cupped in my hands- who pouts when they have chai?!) like a woman-child as I lay on the couch watching everything other than New Girl, because like I complained about in my last post, my nightly dates with my soul sister Jess have come to an end.

If you haven't started watching New Girl on Netflix yet, just go do it already.

In the midst of my one person Sunday morning pity party, I thought back to two weeks ago when I had driven myself down to the marina, in a rush of husband fueled fury (sweatin' the small stuff, ya know), and witnessed two enchanting spotted eagle rays dance across the breaking waves beneath the sunset. It was so magical (there is a video on my instagram feed, and I think you need to see it first hand if I haven't already shoved it in front of your face) that it snapped me out of my funk and opened my eyes, and lets go ahead and get mushy here, my heart, to so many things that I had been nonchalantly ignoring.

So yesterday as soon as we finished our lunch, I said matter of factly ..."I need to see something awesome. Like sunshine, or giant turtles, or... anything. Lets go somewhere".

My husband is home for a few days on personal leave so that I can rest, so naturally he argued (as he should have- I'm way too sick to be leaving the house). But I'll be honest- I tricked him into going along with my evil plan by telling him we would just go for a drive. And then I threw in a "maybe the kids can stop for shaved ice", and then this, and then that, and then- well the next thing I know we're all dressed in swimsuits packing towels and sunblock for a day at the beach. What can I say? Mono is making me crazy.

And then amazing things happened.


After stopping at the Old Sugar Mill, the absolute best place on the island for natural shaved ice (and black sea salt, which I am way too excited about) we followed a friend down some back roads to a never been to before beach. The sun was gentle, the waves were light, and man it felt so good to just relax and take in all of the beauty unfolding before my eyes. I still have such a hard time believing that this is truly my life.

Um, I live in Hawaii.

This is now.


Dot com, even.



Palm trees. And blue skies. Happy kids, happy husband, happy me. Total paradise.

And then the coolest thing. No this is seriously the best.

Hono Hono

Oh hey whats up, I'm just a big giant real life Honu (that's Hawaiian for Sea Turtle- but for some reason I call them Hono's, because I like to make up my own language?) chillin' on the beach- feel free to get all up in my face like a total tourist with your giant waterproof cased in iphone, since you don't use your fancy big girl camera anymore. But uh, do you mind my asking why you are so out of breath? And raining sweat? Lady maybe you and your gross kissing disease better just back off, now that I think about it. But your kids are cool, so they can play around me. Until they start throwing sand at me. In which case, then I will eat them. Don't let them touch me. Seriously, if they touch me- I don't typically eat people, but your red head is being particularly obnoxious with the sand throwing that I asked you not to do, so as far as I'm concerned, dinner is served.

He said that.





I'm going to speak some of my ugly truth now, k? I'm not going to listen to the little voice in my head that's saying "no Tia the Tia, don't post how you're actually feeling, because then people will know how bat crap crazy you are- talk more about the sunshine!!", and I'm going to type whats really going on.

That day that the eagle rays so gracefully drifted to me- I was suicidal. I was sitting on a log out in the middle of a deserted seashore, staring out in the water for hours. I kept thinking about what would happen if I could just, jump. If I could stand up, pick up the slack of my skirt, let my dreads down, and just let it all go. And in that moment, with tears streaming down my face, I literally looked up to the open sky and begged the Universe for a sign. I was at the end of my rope, which I know we all say maybe more often than we truly mean, but- in that moment I felt so much despair from my lupus, from my mono, from my isolation and exhaustion, that I just wanted a release. And then there in the water, were the rays.

Thank you, God.

Thank you, Mother Nature.

Thank you, Life. World. Existence. Eternity.

Thank you, Grams.

So that's why yesterday when I was feeling so down, and I felt that pull to get up and get out- I listened. And it led me straight to what my soul needed in that very moment.

After we played with the Honu for half an hour or more, we decided to leave him alone to bathe in the sun. He had gifted us with his presence for long enough, we didn't want to overstay our welcome. A couple hundred backtracked sandy feet or so, we layed down our towels and together my husband and I sat, just basking in the glory of the then. Listening to the sounds of the ocean, gushing over how absolutely breathtaking the sea turtle had been, watching ghost crabs pop in and out of their hideaways, saying how warm the sun felt on our freckled skin, and then- two more turtles. Swimming directly in the waters in front of us, were two brilliant peek a boo turtles. Every time they'd pop their heads above the water we'd all shout with touchdown-like excitement. The 3 other people on the beach were either really amused, or really annoyed. Either or, same thing, whatever the whatever.





With a freshly cleared mind, a warm sunkissed cheek, and a translucent sense of good renewal, it was time to say goodbye to our perfect day. And it really was, a perfect day. There is no better way to describe it. From the way that our toes touched the sand as we walked from one end of the beach to the other, to the way that my springy red head (who luckily, did not get eaten by the talking Honu) giggled hysterically at the delicious stream of water at the sand shower- it was just a happy day.

And just when we thought it couldn't get any better...


The biggest, most vibrant, most... oh my gosh are you kidding me is this really happening, rainbow of all time appeared in the sky. It can't even fit in the picture (again, head over to my instagram and you can see a video of its full effect, complete with awesome narration by my husband), its so big. And then, it turned into a double rainbow. No shame in stopping on the side of the road to gawk at it, either. There I was, standing barefoot (I got a splinter in my heel, phooey), basically in my underwear on the side of the road, holding my phone up in the air like the intense spectator that I am. But it was just so, freakin', gorgeous. The best part... is that it followed us the entire way home. A solid hour of super-rainbow.
How is a day like that even possible?

...and then it hits me.

It would have been my Gramdma's 79th birthday. She celebrated her birthday, by letting me and my babies celebrate life. Celebrating in her favorite place, no less.

She was there on the beach with us. She probably bribed/lured that sarcastic red head eating Honu there onto the beach with her homemade cheesecake.

Happy Birthday, Grams. Thank you for one of the best days of my life. Thank you for guiding me. Thank you for saving me.


Friday, September 27, 2013

I'm A Lady

That's right, I'm a blogger again. Bloggin'. With mah blog. And my words. ...word art. A word artist. Yep. A wordist

I say this as I'm laying propped up against a pile of fluffy off-white pillows (because we don't do laundry nearly enough), dressed in frumpcore denim colored tights (which surprisingly, my husband has complimented like 3 times today) and a thin baby food covered Pink Floyd shirt. The little "Roku" symbol is dancing around on my TV, and I'm trying my hardest not to finish the 3 remaining episodes of New Girl on Netflix, because- once its over, its over. And I don't know about you, but I'll be devastated. Just like I am at the end of any season of anything that I finish. But how exciting is it when you get a new email saying that there is a new season of whatever it is- its like your birthday, right? A good birthday! The kind where you get to sleep in and have breakfast in bed and nobody asks you if you feel a year older, because coincidentally, I don't think anybody actually feels older on their birthday. People should stop asking that question.

Right so anyways. I'm bloggin'. Heck yeah!

Did I mention I currently have mono? Oh yeah, I do, because apparently that's a real thing. I'm 29 years old, I don't recall kissing anyone (because its called the kissing disease, ya know?) other than my husband (who is an excellent kisser- virtual fist bump, b), but- one day (the day after a colonoscopy, no less- I seriously have the best luck) I woke up with giant golf ball sized lumps on my neck, a bloody nose (for the first time in my life ever), and a fairly constant feeling of having a heart attack. So for the past 5 weeks, I've been sweating non stop, falling asleep while standing up, crying at anyone that asks me how I'm doing, and forcing myself to power through every day and every night like a total comatose-zombie-robot-lady.

blog3tattoo know what I just did just now? I originally typed "comatose-zombie-robot-mom", but after re-reading it, went back and changed mom to lady. Know why? 'Cause this isn't a mom blog. Because I'm not just a mom. I'm a lady. An awesome wordist lady. I have knuckle tattoos, I'm tough, WHAT (ok but I'm not really that tough- and the knuckle tattoos really hurt). 

So here I am, chillin' on what I like to call "Mono Island". My husband has the next 6 day off from work, so I can finally get some rest. And by rest, I mean... so that my husband can play a lot of Yahtzee with me, while I don't watch New Girl, because I will have already finished it (and mourned its end). But that's okay. Because I've still got a whole season of Army Wives, at least 3 Halloween movies (The Witches, Practical Magic, and Hocus Pocus), and maybe every Zac Efron film ever made, with the exception of those singy dancy Disney ones. But maybe not. We'll see just how bored I get.


Ok, but the purpose of this blog is to separate myself from my motherness. Not always, but- I just really need a place to not be Tia the mom, but Tia, the Tia. So when I'm here, that's who I am. Tia the Tia. Um, and Tia the mom, because that's not really something that I can ever get away from, nor do I want to, but-

Ok I can't stand it anymore, I have to see what happens between Nick and Jess. And isn't CiCi supposed to get married? If you need me, I'll be wiping up my no-more-New-Girl tears with my dirty pillowcase (hey b, can we change the sheets this weekend? I'll add that to my list on avocado) on Mono Island, wishing I had Charlie St. Cloud and whatever it is that Zac Efron's new movie is called on DVD, as well as every season of True Blood, because I suddenly have a Xanax induced desire to say "Sukeh" over and over again. #ThatTotallyJustHappened
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