The Balancing Act

Life is a balancing act in so many ways, especially when you become a parent. You have to find time to do all of the things you loved before you were a parent and try to do them while doing the most time consuming, fulfilling job known to mankind. 

Then there's the balance of good news and bad news. 

Although in life I usually prefer to start with the bad news that way you end up hearing the good news at the end, in writing starting with the bad news takes away from the dramatic effect. 

So let’s start with the good news: I have been writing and making money. There’s no direct cause and effect, in fact they are separate statements. I have been writing in this here blog, creating nd building it in the direction I want it to go. I started 2 new segments: My Total Truths and Off the Menu: Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders and am very excited about both of them. I have also been making money as a part-time assistant to the Deputy Head at our school. It is a great way to spend time using my adult work brain and make some extra money on the side. Although, I love (and I assume he does too) that the husband could support us here on one salary, adding to the cookie jar is a nice feeling.

Bad News: I have been procrastinating on some other tasks that are important to me like writing my book. To some, this might seem unbalanced. You might say, well, you’re writing in your blog and learning a new trade and making extra monies! That’s a good thing. I agree. But the honest truth is that the book is the reason we came here to begin with. We came to a place that would afford us the luxury of living on one salary so that I could write.

I could say after this week, that after having fallen off the swing of writing, I’m back on. While super thrilling to be getting back to my craft (in that way), it is incredibly hard to write the book and write the blog at the same time. So I am making the pledge to put it all in, put in all of my effort and urgency into creating and writing and crafting all of the things that I need in my life... while holding a part-time job, running errands, spending time with amazing friends, photographing and documenting my daughter's 1st year, raising said daughter, and building a happy, healthy marriage. Not a tall order, right?

Oh, and also post pictures of the Rafa so that my mom and in-laws don’t have my head on a platter! Here's a start on that one:

7 Month Photo Shoot ( a little late) Happy CiNCo dE MayO!

There have to be some crying baby pictures, otherwise...

...she's going to think she was always this happy!

 And hopefully THIS happy!

A Beach Day with Good Friends... what more could you ask for?

Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders: TIME I LOST

Off the Menu: Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders is a series of guest submissions serving up their own good life moments through their own personal story, in hopes of showing how much beauty each of Our Buena Vidas holds. If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. Today’s post is by Guest Bartender, Nicole. 

Motherhood is a wondrous event for women, one that I’m told changes you and shakes you to your core, especially if you doubted the possibility that it could happen to you, which I did for many years.

Growing up, I loved children and always had an inexplicable motherly intuition at a very young age. In my heart, I always knew that I wanted to be a mom someday.  Those dreams came into question when I was 23.  I woke up in the middle of the night to the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my life – I felt as though the right side of my body and all that was inside me was being twisted like a rope.  I was rushed to the hospital and had emergency surgery to remove a dermoid cyst that was the size of my fist from my ovary.  Unfortunately, due to its size and the fact that it had wrapped itself around my ovary and cut off the blood supply, my right ovary was removed as well.  And so began the little voice in the back of my head that questioned my ability to have children in the future.  Would I be able to get pregnant with one ovary?  What if something happened to the only one I had left?  Not something your average 23 year old girl is usually concerned with or even thinking about, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind regularly.

Fast forward to 2008, I fell in love with my best friend, George and we decided to spend our life together.  I was blissfully happy – we travelled the world together and were married in 2010.  But that voice was always there in the back of my head; a constant stream of fear and anxiety over my ability to have children.  And those fears became a reality in 2010 when another cyst was found on my left ovary, the only one I had left. 

Enter: panic, fear, anxiety and disbelief. 

The doctors said it would be risky to have surgery because I only have one ovary so their advice was to wait and monitor the growth of the cyst.  After three fearful months and a feeling of complete helplessness, the cyst grew to a massive 10cm and laparoscopic surgery was scheduled.

After the surgery, whether driven by fear or a biological clock, I insisted that George and I get started trying to have a family.  I put the pressure on – I wanted a baby, now.  I had doctor’s telling me that if I wanted a child, I shouldn’t wait any longer.  We spent a great deal of time discussing and weighing our options.  We fought, we disagreed, and ultimately we decided to wait…It just wasn’t the right time for us to have a baby and deep in my heart I knew it was true – so I conceded.

Exactly one year after that surgery, in April 2011, another cyst was on my ovary. 

Enter: depression, frustration, resent, helplessness and fear. 

I resented George for making us wait, I was angry that this was happening to me and I began to question so many things.  I felt like I had no control over my body or what was happening to it.  I tried everything to get rid of the cyst naturally – meditation, visualization, Chinese herbs, acupuncture, but nonetheless, it grew and grew until I needed surgery…again.  This was something I was praying to avoid, because with every laparoscopy, ovarian tissue is removed and I didn’t have any to spare.  I went to a reproductive endocrinologist who agreed to do the surgery.  We were all aware of the risks: I could lose my remaining ovary if something went wrong, but at the rate this thing was growing, something had to be done.  As is procedure, he ran a slew of blood work only to get more bad news; my AMH levels (a test used to gauge a women’s fertility via ovarian follicles) were “poor” for my age (.32 compared to a healthy number of 1.0-1.5) and given the fact that I had one ovary that had been through so much trauma, he was pressuring us into fertility treatments immediately following the surgery.  He just didn’t think it would be possible for us to conceive on our own.

Surgery went well.  George and I agreed we needed to “get to it.”  I made the bold decision to reject fertility treatments, as per numerous discussions with an acupuncturist who specialized in fertility.  She was truly a gift from the universe.  The doctor, a skeptic, said in June of 2011, “Come back and see me in January and we can begin treatments then.  Take a few months to try on your own if that’s what you want.”  It was as if he had no faith at all and truly believed we would be back in a few months.

He was wrong.  After only three months, on Halloween (my favorite holiday, too, I might add) I found out that I was pregnant!!! 

Enter: joy, relief, shock, excitement and yes, perhaps a newfound belief in the possibility of miracles.

 

Our little girl is due to arrive July 3^rd. 

So, the moral of the story…well, that one took me awhile.  Why did I have to go through all that?  I mean, what was the point? Maybe it was to make me appreciate pregnancy and motherhood more than I would have without the obstacles I encountered along the way.  Maybe it was to teach me to have more faith in myself, in the universe and a higher power.  Maybe it was to teach me to not believe everything I’m told and that doctor’s aren’t always right; they are human and capable of mistakes, too.

 

What I know I learned for sure is that I can’t get any of the time back I spent worrying – once time is gone, it’s gone.  All the years spent worrying, all the time I spent wondering whether I would conceive or not in the future was all for nothing.  I think that Kurt Vonnegut (one of my favorite authors) said it best “Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.”

And how true has that statement been.  The things I have spent the most time worrying about are the things that, in the end, were fine!  I wish I would have spent all that time enjoying what was going on in my life at the time – really being present for the magic that was happening all around me – being aware that our life together as a couple without children might be nearing an end and to embrace it, feeling blessed that my husband and I were able to travel the world together, appreciating the time spent with friends and family.  I wish I would have just treasured all the things that I was blessed to have instead of focusing on what I lacked or what I feared I would never get.

So, that’s my lesson learned: Worry, fear, and anxiety serves us no purpose.  

You really don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, so enjoy the present and stop worrying.  Focus on the here and now because time truly is precious and it is also fleeting.  Easier said than done, I’m aware, but something we should all try to remind ourselves of when we find ourselves in those moments of fear and worry.  Be mindful of how you spend your time, because only a few things in life are guaranteed; one thing is that you can’t get time back once it’s gone.

The Little Puppy on the Side of the Road

Life in Dominican Republic is not always easy.

I know, you’re asking, “But how could this be? You live on an island in the Caribbean with the sun shining on your back and the wind blowing on your face all year long. Your weekends are full of friends, beach trips, ice-cold beer – literally. Weekly massages are scheduled for the cost of one hour-long massage back home. Fun activities line your week like gumdrops on a Candy Land board. Yes living here has many upsides, so many sometimes that I often can’t believe it is my life. But life in Dominican Republic is not always easy.

On Friday, I left Friend Mama’s house from a quick little impromptu play date (The play date was both for the kids an the moms.). Since the babes was up for a while I knew she would drop the moment the engine in our car started and I was right. With traffic it might take 3 minutes to drive from Friend Mama’s house to ours. Babes was asleep in half of that. Since I had to pick up Husband in a half hour, I decided that I would drive around with her to guarantee a good half hour of naptime.

I chose to drive around the Fiesta Americana, a hotel/pool/gym that many of our CMS counterparts have memberships to. Although we did not join Fiesta, I know the area well. It is nearby and unlike most rounds in Santo Domingo it is lunatic driving free. As I was driving down the last street before leaving to head out for Mike I saw, the worst thing that I could have possible seen. For those of you who know me, I’ll give you just a quick moment to guess what that was. . .

While you are taking a moment I will take this opportunity to remind you that this is the worst thing I could see. Please realize that as people we are all different. Some of you might find the kids asking for money on the street to be the worst thing you have ever seen. Some of you might think the abundance of pollution and garbage might be the worst thing ever. But for me, the homeless stray dogs are my breaking point. I’ve seen many, Mike remarked the other day that he was surprised with how good I’ve been about only having taken a small kitten and Cabarete puppy off the street each for a day, knowing I couldn’t keep them but wanting to help anyway.

Although I see a stray dog almost daily, I wasn’t prepared for seeing a small, itty bitty (and I mean itty bitty) puppy sleeping in the road.  It was almost in the middle of the street and I prayed as I drove past it that it wasn’t a puppy because I knew my heart wouldn’t allow me to drive past. But it was. And although I tried to keep driving - I turned the corner in fact - my mind and heart, which normally don’t work on the same team, ganged up on me. My mind creating images of this puppy getting run over by a car was too much for my aching heart to take and so I popped K turn and went back.

I approached slowly with a dog blanket that I keep in the car because we have two dogs of our own. I threw the blanket over this little sleepy, weak puppy and put him in the back of our car. I called Husband immediately and asked him if he was done with work because “I really need your help.” “What did she get herself into this time?” I’m sure he thought.

When I updated him, he made the call to our vet and friend, Jen Reinecker, owner of Best Friends Vet Clinic in Santo Domingo. An amazing vet and even more amazing woman, I knew she would help me while telling me something I already know – that this is a way of life here and that I can’t save them all.

Although she was very careful in asking if I held any responsibility to the dog and I carefully said I did not, I added that she could let me know if there was anything I could do, ethically or financially.

When I got the phone call from her today, things did not sound good. She had given the dog a flea/tick bath, which was the very least of its problems. The poor baby was being treated for amoebas and parasites but it didn’t seem like he was getting better. In order to know anything further, a diagnostic test and possibly blood work would have to be done. I said I would speak to Husband but before hanging up I already knew what my answer would have to be. The question that I was now asking myself was this:

At what point, Jen, are you willing to take this?

A test or blood work is one thing. But what if this dog needed serious help? What then? If you get too far invested, isn’t it going to be harder to back out? I know that all of my good intentions might not save this puppy but shouldn’t I at least try? I was having an ethical ping pong match in my mind but as always my heart won.

Let’s just do the test and see what happens.

When she called me this evening, the news got worse. He had the virus we were hoping he didn’t have. He would have to be given IV fluids, vitamins, and be monitored. He might not make it through the night, he was depressed and we might think about euth… I hate that word.

How much do you think it would cost? How long might this take? How long would it be before we could see if it was working? Is he really uncomfortable? Is he so sad? I have done the Animal Avenger thing before, I am not new to this, but this is the first time that a life decision had to be made. She said she would talk to another friend vet and call me first thing in the morning to give me a second opinion.

I had to be optimistic. The universe or God or whoever the hight power is wouldn’t have put this dog in front of me on May 18, the day after both of my dogs had been rescued (Jersey on May 17 of 2009 and Olive May 17 of 2010) if the puppy wasn’t going to make it, right? When she called again, I didn’t want to pick up. But again, I knew what the answer would be.

“We have to try. We have to.”

I know I can’t save all of the strays here. I know that in the years to come there are going to be many dogs that I wish I could save and know that I can’t. But that is not today. And that is not this dog. This little puppy on the side of the road, maybe only 8 weeks old deserves something more than the ugliness and hunger and sickness that its known for its whole life, its whole 8 weeks of life. There has to be more than that for him.

So tonight there is no room for pessimism. Throw up the Vacancy sign for optimism and rent it a room. For love. For prayer. For hope. I need it. Puppy needs it.

I wish I could tell you that this story has a happy ending but the truth is I don’t know if it does. But I know that asking a bunch of people to help me believe in this tonight can’t help.

For more on Best Friends Vet Clinic, please follow them on Facebook by clicking here.

Their website is still under construction but visit it by clicking here.

Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders: ALL IN DUE TIME

Off the Menu: Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders is a series of guest submissions serving up their own good life moments through their own personal story, in hopes of showing how much beauty each of Our Buena Vidas holds. If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. Today’s post is by Guest Bartender, Laura. To email her, click here.

Sometimes a girl just has to get away.  And what better trip than to a wine enthusiast’s Holy Grail, Napa Valley?  An escape from responsibilities and an opportunity to partake in a few of the things we ladies like best: wine, wine and more wine. ;-)  Conveniently enough, one of my girls had a trip for work on the west coast and decided to recruit some friends to join her at the tail end of her trip, where we would then take a drive to Napa. I was single for the first time in about 10 years, and feeling a bit lost in life... this sounded like the PERFECT idea!  It was a chance to connect with some lovely ladies, whom I am blessed to call friends, and most importantly to connect with the most important lady... myself!

A wine toast at the airport was our way of saying goodbye to the hustle & bustle of New York City, and hello to the relaxing, easygoing West Coast.  One specific day stands out in my mind; not just on this trip but also in my life.  It was a simply glorious day... one of those days that you later label "one of the best days in my life!"  The sun was dazzling, there was a slight breeze, enough to be comfortable with or without a sweater... whatever your preference. Me? I like to always have a sweater handy: start with and lose once the red wine heat creeps in. (ha!).  We had a chauffeur that drove us to various wineries, where we tasted countless wine, sampled amazing cheese, ate yummy crackers with fruity jams and fresh fruit. We had wonderful, grown up women conversations about life and I was HAPPY. I felt amazing.  And for drinking a lot of wine, I was only a little drunk - it was perfect. 

 I could go further into detail with regards to which wineries we visited, where we dined, but for me, it wasn’t about that physical place.  It was my first girls trip in years after coming off of what I thought was a failed relationship.  We had spent the last few months going back and forth post break up, and I was finally struggling with the idea that the relationship was over. It was your typical "too good to leave, too bad to stay deals." Good for many reasons. We were really good together, a team. And we balanced each other!  Bad because we fought hard at times. We weren't moving forward and that was a hard thing for me to overcome.  I felt I wasn't good enough.  I often questioned myself and thought about what I would have to do for this person to love me enough to take the next step.  Overall, I felt low.   

But the morning of Napa I woke up bright eyed and ready; excited, just like the days as a little girl when I just couldn't wait to get to the roller coasters of Great Adventure.  How ironic to be remembering these times since I had recently felt like my life had been on a roller coaster.  

But this trip provided me with some major insight.  It gave me the best gift: time with some wonderful friends who helped me see my self worth.  I decided that if I wanted certain things in life, it was up to me to change them.  My gal pal said, "you have to just rip the band aid off quickly.  It will hurt!!  But you will soon be on the road to recovery!"  And just like that, for some strange reason, I was able to "rip the band aid off" and decided that, starting that day, things would be different.  I will have a positive outlook on my future, and eventually, when the right time comes, God will bless me with what I have always looked forward to: a family of my own.  Because I was a good woman.  I am a good woman.  And anyone would be lucky to have me!  It was a feeling I will never forget.  A feeling of freedom, hope, assurance, confidence, calmness, faith, optimism, light...      

Fast forward two years, we rekindled our romance, had the wonderful experience of becoming parents to the most beautiful little boy whom we absolutely adore, and although still not married (something I am still not okay with), we're talking about it.  And I know it will happen... soon enough.  Sometimes I do get thrown off the roller coaster of positivity... I am human after all, but a little communication goes far, and I always get back on track.  As long as I remember what my mother always said, a saying that used to pierce my ears like nails on a chalkboard, “All in due time.” I try to keep in mind that good things come to those who wait.  

My Total Truths: #2 Cut Your Losses

My Total Truths is a series based on my truths; a list of things that I know to be true and have served as mini life lessons in my experience. 

# 2 Cut Your Losses

"In the clearing stands a boxer,

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of ev'ry glove that laid him down

Or cut him til he cried out

In his anger and his shame

'I am leaving, I am leaving'

But the fighter still remains."

                                        - Simon & Garfunkel

                                         "The Boxer"

This isn’t something I say lightly.

I am a fighter and a competitor and, to the core, fighters and competitors don’t believe in losses because a loss equals failure and failure is not an option. But in the past year, such immense milestones transformed my life that it inevitably made me see many things that I used to see as truths in a different light. And now, cutting your losses seems more like a winner’s strategy than a loser’s outcome.

One of the first things I should mention is that cutting your losses is a lot like emotional warfare and is not easy, especially when those losses you are cutting are people. It requires you to eradicate someone from your life that at one time might have been important to you, central to you, valuable to you. It requires you to really evaluate and be honest about who is worth keeping, who still makes your life better or whose time in your life has passed and is only still around because they have always been. I don't say this from a place of anger - if anything I say this from the corner of sadness and healing. I have realized in the last year that not everyone will stay in your life and not everyone should. And sometimes, cutting these losses is a necessity.

Maybe it’s as trivially put as blaming it on my pregnancy hormones or maybe its born from the significant changes that happen to us in the midst of such huge milestones as leaving your country, a death in the family, getting married and becoming a mother, but for whatever reason, at the times in your life when you are supposed to realize who your friends are, I realized who they are not. 

It is incredibly sad to me that when I think back to the single most momentous and meaningful year of my life, all of those miraculous memories will also stand alongside great grief. Some grief, like losing my grandfather, was unavoidable. It is a loss that has to be cut because there is nothing that anyone of us can do to escape the inescapable. But some grief was inflicted by people of supreme trust and total love. It is a loss rooted in selfishness, causing nothing good and leaving only heartbreak. This kind of loss breaks down even the strongest of fighters. 

But great fighters, and remember we are all great fighters when we need to be, come back stronger. And I had the most important reason to fight, growing inside of me. Life threw me too many punches in 9 months. I tried ducking and dodging, weaving and dancing, swinging and breathing and resting, but in the end, the only way to win the prize that mattered most, a healthy baby, was to concede those other fights and cut my losses. 

I needed my rest for the only fight worth fighting. And with planning a wedding "stress" and moving from the country "stress" and sitting in the hospital with my grandfather "stress" and then losing my grandfather "stress," fighting people who should have been in my corner seemed - well - not worth it.

It wasn't always not worth it, it just became a fight not worth fighting any longer. 

Being a fighter doesn't just mean being strong. It means being smart enough to know when to let go of the things that are unhealthy, draining, and damaging. It means knowing that not every fight is worth winning and not everything is worth fighting for. 

But knowing that no matter what the outcome, you are always a fighter.

Photo Credit:
Rocky Balboa: Jase Lam

Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders: CHERISH MORE

Off the Menu: Buena Moments by Guest Bartenders is a series of guest submissions serving up their own good life moments through their own personal story, in hopes of showing how much beauty each of Our Buena Vidas holds. If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. Today’s post is by Guest Bartender, Marilyn.

Life is an opportunty,

benefit from it.

Life is beauty,

admire it.

(Mother Theresa)

I believe God inbreeds in us our very own distinct personality. Through life, our experiences and environment can then sway our personality...even alter it slightly. Well there is no doubt about the fact that I have a very regimented personality. I like things to be very orderly and predictable. I need to feel as though I have a sense of control over what to expect next.

True to my personality, I had this vacation all planned out. This trip was supposed to be an opportunity for hubby, me and the kids to enjoy quality time with my parents. An opportunity to do the touristy things that tourists do when they come to Orlando. 

And while we are doing those things, like visiting the main theme parks, I can't help but feel like my purpose here has been greater. These days, I've spent some time chatting with a dear friend from childhood, Bestie. As simple as our conversations have been, they have been ultimately fulfilling. The common thread that laces through our chats has been gratitude. "I'm finally enjoying life." Her words resonated with me. She went on about how thankful she is that she recently moved to Florida and how now, more than ever, she values her family and knows she is blessed. 

Like Bestie, these past few days have been much more than visiting theme parks. It's been deeper than spending beautiful moments with my parents. It has been an awareness. An awareness that I too, am truly blessed. Does that happen to all of us maybe? We're so busy living life, feeding, working, cooking, chasing, that we don't have time to see what we have? Cherish what we have? I can't help but compare it to my Daniel, and every other child we rush down the sidewalk, as he stops for the 10th time to smell the same type of yellow weed flower. He wants to value that moment. Cherish it.

In the midst of packing our cooler for tomorrow's trip to Disney, baby Mia was toddling her way across the living room. Her little bare feet were slapping the tile floor beneath her and her messy curls covered her face as she made her way to her destination, the green stuffed frog on the opposite side of the room. As she waddled, I could hear her humming nothingness to the tune of a song that I oftentimes sing to her at night before bed. Her happiness at that moment, as simple as it was, fulfilled me. It was then that I realized I was savoring more and more of these simple joys as the days progressed. 

This vacation has allowed me to stop more. Value more. Cherish more. Be more aware of my blessings. I'm thankful for the extra time I have to think. To be. The basic simplicities in life, the moments that bring me fulfillment, peace, and joy, are so present now they're winking at me. Almost as though they're saying, "Look at me! Look at how fabulous I am. Soak me in!"

It is with this that I will throw up my hands and surrender to the possibilities that await us the rest of our trip. It is with this that I will relish more scrumptious moments of pure simplicities. Simple, happy moments that fulfill my soul.

My Total Truths: #1 If you don’t like the life you’re living, create a new one.

My Total Truths is a series based on MY truths; a list of things that I know to be true and have served as mini life lessons in my experience. 

# 1 - If you don’t like the life you’re living, create a new one.

I read this or something very similar to it recently and it put into words something that I had thought and felt for a long time.

I watched "Bridesmaids" the other night for the first time - I know I am super late - and while I loved the main character, Annie, and I thought the things happening to her were side-splittingly funny (especially that plane scene) I couldn't help but feel sorry for her because she had no control of her life. At some point, she stopped realizing that she (and she alone) had the power to make the changes that she wanted. Instead, she blamed her problems on her best friend getting married and moving forward with her life, she blamed Helen, she blamed her roommates, she made excuses for the jerky ex-boyfriend that treated her like what you would expect a jerky ex-boyfriend to treat you like. Um, hello Annie, the only common piece to all of that is you. 

It is all too easy to put the blame of how life is turning out on the world around you. Watch: My job makes me miserable. My roommate smells weird and touches my stuff. My boss is incompetnt. My apartment is old and the rent is too high. There are only a few good men out there...and they're gay or don't live here. See? See how easy that was to make life seem like the bad guy? But life is only giving you back what you are not willing to change.

Once you feel like a victim to life, it's usually because you are one. It's like that scene when Annie has to move back home after being kicked out by the strangest brother and sister roommates ever to walk Milwaukee and she says to her mom, "Remember when you thought I hit bottom... that wasn't bottom."  I have had many moments of feeling confused about why life had chosen to bully me, to kick my ass. I've had moments where I thought "if something, I don't know what, would just change, I'd be happier, healthier, smarter, stronger, skinnier, better, prettier, fancier dressed, brighter teethed, shorter nosed, smaller eared, longer legged, rounder faced, higher paid, more traveled... 

But it turns out that the only way to live the life you want is to - wait for it - live the life you want. That's it. That's the secret. If you don't like your job - quit it. Find another one. Be smart about it but don't keep using the same excuses as a way to stay. If you don't like the quality of men you are meeting, stop going to the same places to meet them, stop sleeping with them on the first date, stop allowing them to treat you like garbage, stop running for the hills when a normal one comes along (Remember Annie and the cop?). If you don't like your apartment, your scenery, your city, your state, your country - move. Leave. Be where you want.  Why are you staying? Ask yourself that. 

Like Annie, we all at some point take a life hit. We compare ourselves and what we have to others and what they have. We get mad that life has been unfair. That we don't have the job, the car, the man, the house, the kids, the clothes, the face we want. And like Annie, sometimes you misplace your unhappiness on the backs of others or on life itself.

It is hard to make changes. I know this as well as anyone. And I could only speak for myself when I say that being brave and making change has allowed me to live a life I have wanted in many ways.

So, I urge you to stop blaming life and if you don't like the life you are living, create a new one. 

(Ring that I have that reminds me of this simple truth:

 "Love Life" and on the inside of the ring it says, "Be Brave")

The Hunger Man... I mean, Games

(pictured borrowed from salon.com)

I wildly enjoyed watching the new “Hunger Games” movie. Suspenseful, gripping, and fast moving, the movie had us on the edge of our seat from the beginning. But I couldn’t help and feel like I had seen this movie before. Why did it feel so familiar?

Oh… that’s right… Arnold Schwartzenager starred this movie in 1987, but then it was called “Running Man.” Albeit some differences in the characters, setting, and background, the premise was the same; a game show in which unwilling participants are pitted against each other in a battle to the death. There can only be one winner, one survivor.

Now, I should pause here and acknowledge that this is not a movie review. My critique isn’t based on which main character I prefer, although Katniss, played by Jennifer Lawrence, is one ass-kicking, hunting heroine who I might go as far as to say is my favorite action heroine of all time.

Nor is my critique based on the similarity of both movies including the eccentrically entertaining macabre host, the freakishly indifferent audience that could actually stand to watch a game show about killing off opponents, or the love interest that is bound to develop. No, my critique is that in 1987 “Running Man” was an R rated adult movie. Kids my age weren’t buying tickets and popcorn to watch this and even if we were, we weren’t getting in. But in 2012, “Hunger Games” isn’t just shooting (pun intended) for teenager viewers; it was made for them with a PG-13 rating. With the latest discussion being whether or not parents should be strict about this rating and not let their even younger kids see it.

“Hunger Games” is about young kids from different “Sections” who are randomly chosen to battle and survive against each other. Based on the book, “Hunger Games,” which we all know is always more descriptive (I can’t even imagine how violent the book was based on what I saw in the movie!), is a young adult novel!

Now I’m not meaning to sound old and I honestly think I might have thought this way as a teenager, although I still might have seen the movie, but does anyone else find it strange that a movie of such violence and adult ideas is marketed to teens? It’s not that I think that kids are dumb enough to see the movie and create their own “Hunger Games,” although I have seen many a “Law & Order” based on this kind of story; but I don’t know, call me crazy, I just think that a movie about killing a small child with an arrow to the chest might be too much for a 13-year-old.

I am not trying to start a movement, a revolution, a vehicle for change. I am not pointing my finger at the author of the book or the movie’s producers or the parents that let their kids watch it. I, personally, thought the movie was 142 minutes of fun… but I’m also 32 and don’t need my mom’s permission to get a piercing, buy alcohol or watch a movie. I am simply stating my opinion and pointing out the fact that 25 years ago a movie of this violent nature would have been... was rated R. I could only imagine then what the next 25 years holds for our society. 

Will we eventually turn into those indifferent crowds watching a game show about killing people off instead of voting people off? 

Scary...

Survival: A Gladiator's Story

 Nothing says "appreciate life" like almost losing it.

Last weekend, thanks to our Dominican living, Mike's 30th birthday, and his generous parents, we took a long weekend trip to Jarabacoa, the mountain region of Dominican Republic. When people think of DR, they think of crystal blue oceans, beachy weather, and all-inclusive resorts. They don't think of Jarabacoa, the mountain region that boasts fall-like weather, nature up close, and so many outdoor activities that it would take a two week vacation to get to them all.

This is where the real story begins...
 The last time we went to Jarabacoa was in September for the yearly trip that Mike's school does with all the new foreign hire teachers. With all of the amazing excursions to venture out to I decided to do, well...none. I was 9 months pregnant and they make you sign a silly waiver that you are not carrying child before taking you on one of these adventures - go figure! Even so, I was quite content to stay on my rocking chair with my cup of coffee, reading and watching the two other kids, Olive and Jersey, explore and sniff til their hearts content.

As we were planning this trip to Jarabacoa, Mike and I were all in for  embarking on one of the Rancho Baiguate's many cool adventures together. So in were we to the adventures, that we brought along our nanny to take care of la Rafa while we were out being adventurous.

After a Saturday of relaxing on my old friend, Rocking Chair, we woke up Sunday ready to take on the World of Jarabacoa White Water Rapids, category three rapids, I would later find out. But I was ready. I had been rafting before, once in the Delaware, category negative one that my mom describes as a big raft on little bumps of water, I would later find out. As I later recounted this story to my mother she would point out, "Yenni. Those little waves in the Delaware wasn't really rafting... even your grandmother went with us!" Good point.

We should have known there was trouble ahead when after the introductory set of rapids a few people fell out of their boat, a raft capsized, and four boats crashed into each other after a traffic jam on the same rock. Our boat joked, "And this is only the first wave of rapids?"

We had a few minor incidents here and there but our raft and companions seemed to flow fairly well. Mike and I had jumped in with another group of five that consisted of three siblings and two of their spouses. They were all characters but the most standout was the youngest brother, Gustavo. First of all, the name alone sounds big and burly. Big and Burly Gustavo. You know who also had a name like that and was big and burly...

GASTON!

But when I saw him, and maybe this is because I am a child of the 80's, I immediatelsy said to Mike, "OMG... Nitro is on our raft.

And without digressing too much, let's look at these two pictures side by side... I mean, come on... seriously that is too much of a coincidence!

 

And this, I kid you not, is exactly, EXACTLY what Gustavo looked like. So you will find it to be no surprise that when his wife, Kathy, fell out of the boat, he literally reached overboard with one canon arm, grabbed her life vest and plucked her up out of the water placing her gently back into the raft in sitting position. 

I felt safe having Nitro, I mean Gaston, I mean Gustavo in the boat but I got to thinking about what the guides had said before the trip started, "If you fall out of the raft, try to stay calm and let the water take you. If you try to fight the water, the water will win." I thought to myself, "WHO IN THE WORLD is going to stay calm and float calmly down the rapids?" But after seeing Kathy fall out and realize that today, falling out was a clearly distinct possiblity, I convinced myself that if I fell out, I would try to stay as calm as I could considering the situation.

If this were a novel, this would be where the author had just introduced foreshadowing... or prediction, I can never tell those two apart.

We had completed half of our journey and just as we were coming to the end of another rapid our raft collided with a rock... a Gaston type rock. Collided so hard, in fact, that the raft was half on the rock and half in the water. 

Like so:

Please look closely at the faces in the raft

You could say it was stuck between a rock and a hard place (ba dump dump).

I quickly grabbed the rope. And after securing myself, I managed to find Mike who was "secure" at the rock side of the boat. I grabbed his hand. I pulled myself up and quickly did not like what I realized was happening. 

My mind jumped to the extensive movie knowledge library in my mind of every action movie. The scene when you are rooting for everyone in the disaster to come out unharmed and then the love interest says with the defeated look, "I'm stuck," and your heart drops. And you think, but he's so close to her, they are right there, don't give up. JUST GRAB HER! And she says, "I can't. It's not working. Save yourself." And they look at each other before she lets go and plumets to her untimely, young, tragic death. 

Like that sad scene in an action movie, I quickly realized... I was stuck under someone's leg that was firmly across my body, unable to move and getting dragged down by the water with every passing rush of water. I opted to take my chances... and let go.

Splash, gurgle, gurgle, muffled voices yelling, GASP - air, gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, rushing water, splash, GASP - air... stay calm, stay calm, stay calm... at least Rafaella will still have her dad - no - stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Ow! Oh! Ee! Damn rocks! stay calm. gurgle, flailing, gurgle, GASP -air, Try to dig you legs into the ground and get your bearing, OW! Rock. Ee, ooh, ahh. Oh sh*t... there's a big rooock. OW! 

stay calm.

When I felt a guide had me, I felt safer but the pressure of him holding on to my vest was dragging me down. And that section of water was so strong that even as we passed the real "rapid" the slow water was impossible to get a handle on.  I knew this because when we began passing other rafts another guide yelled out, "What's happening?" And my guide yelled back, "The water's too strong!"

"What? Wait? WHAT?!" I screamed looking at the guide who was about my height. He was obviously a better swimmer and more equipped to handle this... after all, he jumped out of the raft willingly to get me, but if he thought this was strong, what was I thinking? And here came another small rapid.

Splash, gurgle, gurgle, muffled voices yelling, GASP - air, Ow! Oh! Ee! Damn rocks! stay calm. I hope there are no water fall rapids coming up. WATERFALLS? Oh no, this ends here.

As soon as that rapid was over and we got to Normal Rapid Speed (NRS), I tried digging my legs again into what Mike has accurately labeled "Fred Flinstoning" it. 

I jammed my bare legs into God's wet Earth and prayed for the strength to stop us from moving down this river any longer. Between my Flinstoning and Guide's rapid knowledge, we finally came to a halt long enough to slowly, carefully walk towards shore. I posted my body close to a rock to get my balance and as my legs shook from battle wounds and adrenaline, I thanked God Almighty that I was safe - bruised up - but safe. I stood by the shore waiting for the raft and more so for Mike, who I was certain was worried that I had been swept away forever. At the very least, I am sure that he thought I would be a babbling, shaking wreck in shambles, crying where I stood, drowning in my fear. But that's not how he found me.

I stood there with shaky, bruised knees. But I stood there. And I stood there smiling - which if you know me seems unlikely that I would be smiling after a tumultuous event like that. How could you smile through one of the scariest experiences of your life? you might ask. Simple.

I could smile because I made it. Because I was alive.... and with no help from Nitro, the American Gladiator, I might add. 

Sometimes, it just takes an instant to recognize that you are stronger than you think. That you too are a gladiator.