I no longer look back at our time together and think of how far we’ve come.  Instead I am thankful for every day we have together and every experience we share.  I celebrate every day he is in my life and consider the presence of him in my life to be the greatest gift I’ve received from him.

Today, I know, he will be pondering his age again, as only this time of the year makes him do.  And I leave him this quote and hope he reads it and ponders its significance instead.

“Everyone is the age of their heart.”  ~Guatemalan Proverb

I love you, Jeffery. Happy birthday!

When I was in high school, I was continually amazed by my friends and their ability to declare undying love to one guy, then break up with him one day and be dating an entirely different guy the next day, who was of course their soul mate.  It was confusing to me how transient and transferable their love was depending on their mood or the day.  I never felt that way about anyone when I was a teenager.  Though I daydreamed about finding my one true love, I never found it while traversing the hallways of my high school.

So I’ve never understood love – what it means, how people fall in love and stay in love with only one person.  I’ve loved, don’t get me wrong.  I meant society’s definition of love – it’s always flummoxed me.

I got married way too young – I’ll be the first to admit it… now.  So right off the bat my first serious relationship was already seriously flawed because I gave in to impulse and said yes when I should’ve said no.  And then add on top of that my seriously flawed new husband (who is now an ex-husband) who saw nothing wrong with demanding loyalty and fidelity from me while philandering around with just about anyone who would give him the time of day.

At one point in our marriage, my ex asked me if I would ever consider swinging.  I’m sure the appropriate response would’ve been extreme horror.  But, of course, I was curious.  At this point, he was my first and only lover, I’d never explored my bisexual side and natural attraction to women, nor had I really looked at another man because, frankly, my ex was an extremely jealous man.  (It figures he was the jealous one when he was the only one screwing around at that point.)  I was intrigued at this idea of mate swapping.

Though I was relatively innocent when this topic was introduced, I admit I was quite familiar with the “deviant” side of sex.  I, after all, was raised during my teenage years by my brothers.  Porn was something I was familiar with, as well as the adult magazines.  I enjoyed reading erotica, especially if it had a less-than-normal slant to it.  I even admit to fantasizing about sexual experiences with multiple partners and my favorite porn scenes included girl on girl action.

Too much information?  Hee… Well, it’s out there now.  I’ve always been a sexually curious girly girl with a pretty impressive imagination.  So now I was being presented with the possibility of sharing with my “one true love” what had up until then merely been fantasies.  So yes, I was interested.  Alas it wasn’t meant to be.  My ex immediately shot down the idea and treated me poorly for admitting an interest.

What does all this have to do with the conversation with my cousin?  One time, Kiko and I were discussing the theory of Inner Child.  Or rather he was telling me about his research on the concept.  In turn, he wondered if the loss of my parents and my subsequent childhood played a part in my attraction to polyamory.  Was I looking to recreate the love I lost during that time, attempting to recreate it by having two partners who loved me?  Was my inner child begging for love in order to finally be healed?

What an interesting concept and not one I can readily dispute.  I think everything I’ve experienced and learned has shaped this fascinating woman whose words you now read.  Not just the loss of my parents but certainly the love they gave me before they died.  The lessons they taught me about honoring them, honoring elders in general, having respect for those outside myself – they all contribute.  As well as the experiences I had with my brothers, with my friends, at school, in life – they all played a part in my seeking out something like polyamory.

Even now, when I am beginning to understand that polyamory is just another concept like monogamy, with its own inherent flaws that go along with this beautiful idea of love and relating to and with others.  It is because of who I am and what I’ve experienced that I can take something like polyamory and learn even more about myself.

I’m still not really sure about people and relationships and what motivates people to behave as they do when in love.  But I’m even more certain of myself and how I choose to behave in relationships.  I’m sure I will continue to discover new and exciting things about myself as I continue on in my life’s journey.

Sometimes I want a baby.  It’s crazy and irrational, I know.  Yet sometimes the urge is so strong, I can actually smell that sweet baby smell of formula mixed with innocence and I swear my ovaries practically ovulate right then and there.

Sometimes it occurs after I’ve spent a day with someone who has a baby.  I see that tiny little body, wrapped up tightly in those cute little blankets or onesies and my heart just melts.  I always sniff the baby’s head and get drunk on the yummyness that exudes from their pores.

Sometimes it happens when I look at J and I’m overwhelmed with the passion and love that I feel for this man.  I look at his handsome face, his gorgeous eyes, that smile and just want to make a baby with him. I think maybe, just maybe we’d make a gorgeous baby that was the best of both of us.

I know me too well though.  Even when this urge is overpowering, when the want makes my heart ache with what could be… I’m conscious of the fact it is just a temporary, fleeting want.

Because I honestly would never want to give up the life I have now.  The carefree, do as I want, go where I please, stay up ’til all hours of the night/day existence I have now.  I’m selfish and I love it!

I may want a baby.  But I know, KNOW I don’t want kids.  Ugh.  They are forever. They never leave.  You always feel responsible for them.  When you are a parent you owe it to your kids to put them first.  I couldn’t even play Barnie for my friend’s kids or even my own niece and nephews.  They listened to what I wanted and if their parents didn’t like it, then they learned to not let me watch their children.  Heh.

The urge always passes, sanity returns,  and I move on with my life.

But sometimes, oh always… I just revel in my urge.

I can’t believe another year is gone.  It has been 24 years since you died and so much has happened that you’ve missed.

Since you’ve been gone, four of your grandchildren were born and grew up.  Your oldest, Nicholas, is now married and lives in Avon, CO.  He is a responsible and disciplined boy, quiet and reserved but with the same sweet smile that used to bring you both such joy.  His brother, Matthew, was born just a few months after the accident.  How you both were so looking forward to his arrival.  He doesn’t let you down either.  Matthew has the biggest heart of all the Medinas and I”m pretty sure if you were here, he’d be mowing your lawn as we speak.  Your niece, Miranda, is next in age and what a beauty she turned out to be.  Every time I see her picture I see you, mommy.  The last one to come around is JJ and he was raised a Medina and you can tell, oh yes you can.

Since you’ve been gone, the family scattered a little but then recently has gotten closer again.  The family now meets once a month for breakfast, and I keep hoping more people will join each month.  I won’t give up! because I know, if you were both here, this family would be there come hell or high water.

Since you’ve been gone, your oldest son, Richard, passed away.  The many years before his passing were sad ones, and he was pretty much all alone because of the choices he made in his life.  But I can proudly report to you that he left this world at peace with the past and with the love and support of his brother and sister.  We all did right by him in the end and I think you’d be proud of our ability to mend old rifts.

Your other son, Joe, has divorced and is moving on with his life.  He’s a bit of a workaholic – the family doesn’t see him much.  He raised some fine children though.  His legacy will carry on.  Not only in their genes but also in the love these children have for their father.

Mom, your brothers and sisters remain close and think of you often.  All of them still live relatively close to each other.  They’ve kept the family home in Costilla.  Every year your brothers visit the home town and pay respect to you and dad on Memorial day.  Unlce Louie keeps your grave clean.

Their kids have also married and had children.  I keep close contact with Uncle Frank’s kids, since we are so close in age and grew up practically as brothers and sister.  Chris, or Kiko as we still call him, is married to a beautiful and firey red-head, Mandie, who is just perfect for him.   Together they have one girl, Madison, a lovely little girl.  Adam, Kiko’s brother, is all growed up and the college graduate of the family and a lawyer to boot.  Mom, dad if you know the trouble this boy caused as teenager!  And now he’s a lawyer.  He has two children of his own, Lauren and AJ.  And Keithy-boy, well he married the greatest woman ever (shout out to Hillary) and is the luckiest son of a gun for it.  Keith is also our heart of this family, though he is pretty quiet about it.

And then there is me.  I’m a good egg, mommy and daddy.  I work hard, pay my taxes, follow the rules (mostly) and I love as hard as I work.  I met a good man who makes an excellent partner, and we’ve carved out a life together that brings me such joy and happiness.  I love my family and friends and I’m truly happy.  Not all the time, but then who is… what I learned about life is you take the good with the bad, the hard times with the fun times.  It is what you make it and I intend to make it the best.  I miss you both so much but I’m blessed.  Know that much about me.

So much you’ve missed and so much we’ve missed without you.  I couldn’t let another year go by without letting you know.

With love and respect,

your daughter, Mon-Mon

When I was a little girl, my mommy would put up a big Christmas tree in a corner of the downstairs living room next to the fireplace.  I remember kind of helping her put up the ornaments and such, but mostly she did this all herself.  Up would go the tree, on would go the lights, out would come the balls and dangles and tinsel, and finally, last the star on top.  When she lit up the tree, we’d turn off the lights and just stand around it.

I haven’t put up a tree in years.

The last time was in 2003 with my gay husbands, the Js, and we put up their Christmas tree in my basement on the cold concrete floor.  It was on the concrete because a few months before a pipe had burst and flooded my basement and I hadn’t yet replaced the carpet.  And yet, we put up their tree, filled it with their ornaments, populated the underneath with gifts and stayed up late Christmas eve into Christmas opening gifts.

When I was little, my mommy and daddy would have our family over – all of my mom’s brothers, her sister and all of my cousin’s – for a Christmas eve feast.  My mom would spend all day cooking and the house always smelled so good.  After we’d eaten, us kids would wait agonizingly for midnight.  Wait for the time when the adults said we could each open one present from another family member, from someone who wouldn’t be there the next morning.  Oh the delicious anticipation that filled the room as we sat around the tree waiting for the magical note of midnight to strike.

The year my parents died in the car accident, my brother wouldn’t let me put up my parents’ Christmas tree.  At the time I thought he was just being cruel out of spite because he was the adult. I thought it was a power thing, an ego trip… but now I wonder if the thought of putting up that tree without my parents being present was more than he could bear.  To not have my mom there with her special touch, to not have the fire to light as only my dad could do… maybe it was too much.

Undaunted, I decorated one of my mom’s plants that year with shiny Christmas balls, smaller ornaments and a little bit of tinsel.

When I think of putting up a tree, I remember how much time and effort and love my mom put into that tree.  I think of how everyone I know who does put up a tree probably does the same thing.  I think of how long people probably collected their trinkets and ornaments to place on the tree with love, just like my mommy.  And how I don’t have any of that… of how all of my mommy’s trinkets and stuff are long gone… victim to another move or just tossed aside.

So I won’t put up a tree; instead I will bask in the memories… of my mom’s tree, of old friend’s trees, even of my gay husband’s tree.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas tree, thy leaves are so unchanging… as are my memories of Christmas trees past…

I’ve never really talked about compersion here on this blog. Maybe I mentioned in passing that compersion is the term coined to explain that feeling of happiness one person gets when they see their lover, be it husband/wife or girlfriend/boyfriend, with another person sexually and/or romantically.  I say and/or romantically because polyamorists adopted the term compersion to try and get the world to understand you can have multiple relationships successfully and share in your lovers’ emotional and sexual satsifaction with another person without being involved necessarily.  Maybe I talked about it in that vague, unattached way without giving you any real life examples.

Mainly because when I experience compersion in my relationships, it’s generally mixed in with a great big dose of fear that sometimes looks a little like jealousy and, more often than not, envy.   I get the wonderful gift of feeling joy at watching J enjoy multiple relationships while at the same time worrying over every little detail like only another Virgo mind can really appreciate.  I can honestly say that, with the exception of our first experience with K, every relationship since has brought the same warring feelings into my life, heart and mind.

It wasn’t anything these ladies did so much as what their entrance to my life could mean.  I was worried about what might be -  because with K , I did no such thing.  With K, I threw caution to the wind and took a chance that my heart meant as much to her as hers and J’s meant to mine.  I thought our years of friendship, the time her and I had taken to know each other and care about one another, would be my safety net.  I also put a lot of stock into J’s other poly experiences and his talk of being able to love more than one person at a time without it causing damage to our relationship.  I took a lot at face value in that first poly relationship.

It’s not that I blame K (okay maybe I blame her) or that I blame J even… truth be told, we all were to blame.  Me for my blind faith, K in her lack of faith inability to share, and J for his unwillingness to accept that K was not who he thought she was, who she claimed to be.  It was all part of why we weren’t able to stay together as a triad.  It also plays a part in why it is almost impossible for me to experience just compersion in any current or future poly relationships I might become a part of later in life.  I can’t say it will always be this way; it’s just the way it is now.

So, while I was happy for J that he had a new friend with benefits, maybe potential love interest – I was all kinds of crazy scared of what that change meant for me.  J and I are funny that way…  one of the things J tells everyone about is his inherent selfishness.  And it’s true.  J wants what he wants and damned anyone who gets in his way.  Even me, at times.  But this is what gets  me… when people look at our relationship and hear that or experience it, they think of me as the martyr, the poor suffering girlfriend who lets her man get away with it.  But the truth is – I’m just as selfish as J.  I think that’s why we work so well.  He’s fighting for what he wants, I’m fighting for what I want but in between all that is this amazing love that refuses to let us break up without reaching a compromise between what he wants and what I want.

So it’s been several months since C entered our lives.  We had some really interesting times between J and me as we tried to navigate this new relationship.  J and C have settled into a really nice friendship and casual sexual relationship (that sometimes I get to enjoy as well).  C has learned a bunch of new terminology from this newly tried open relationship style that so far only encompasses one couple (that would be J and me, in case you weren’t following).  Of which, her favorite term would be compersion.  She’s even explained it to her ex-boyfriend and several other close friends.

When C learned about my initial worries regarding her, she was a little devastated and I think hurt.  I’d promised her total honesty when it came to whether or not she was “stepping on my toes.”  What she didn’t understand is that I didn’t consider my worries something she needed to do anything about… no, it was all on me.  It was my stuff to own.  I think I’ve worked on it quite well and C and I are fast friends.

It probably won’t be the last time I find myself working through the compersion/jealousy feelings.  I’m glad it worked out well this time.  I found myself a great friend… and sometimes bed partner, so to speak.

It’s funny to think that he worries about getting older because he is so young at life, young at heart, and young in spirit.  He always gets carded because of his boyishly handsome good looks.  He is the life of the party and people – women especially – flock to him at parties.  He has very few worries in his life because he chooses to celebrate the goodness in life, to focus on the fun that life has to offer.

He’s my own Peter Pan… and I love when he turns to me and whispers, “Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you’ll never, never have to worry about grown up things again. “

All we need is fairy dust…

Happy birthday, my love… and remember, you just think happy thoughts.

No, you didn’t know that… the truth is I’ve rarely been good at recognizing the joys in delaying pleasure of any kind.  I can’t see the long road – I tend to want to deal in the here and now and not think of the future.  Many a time I’ve jumped the gun because, in the moment, I wanted what I wanted and didn’t want to face the repercussions of my actions until after I’d obtained whatever happiness I could from that moment.

For as long as I can remember, this has been true.

When I was a kid, I talked my best friend into eating an entire bag of Oreo cookies with me. It was bliss.

I got married three days after my now ex-husband proposed (while we were in bed mind you) and one month after we started dating.  I was giddy on new love.

Heck, even my foray into cheating was in the heat of the moment, when I refused to acknowledge that my actions were going to have significant and life-altering affects on my life and those I held dear just so I could satisfy a need to get-off and a need to feel wanted.  Sad, indeed.

My point is – I sometimes have a hard time saying no to myself. It’s still frustratingly true to this day.

Oh, I’ve learned from my past mistakes.  I don’t cheat and lie anymore – I found an open relationship with a man who is willing to talk through the finer points of our wants in order to achieve satisfaction in that aspect of our lives.  And rather than indulge in the married lifestyle, my partner and I found a legal way to entrust our lives into the others hands – by creating wills (that’s right – I get his money!)

But I still want to eat all the Oreos in the bag – even knowing I will feel sick afterward – both physically and emotionally.  I struggle every day fighting this urge.  It’s stressful and depressing at times, knowing I will spend my life fighting with myself over food.

It’s especially hard now because I want to eat well – I want to feel good about my control over myself – I WANT to lose weight and look great.  And yet this one facet of my personality, at times, is my undoing.

Fight the good fight, right?

(sigh) Someday, oh someday, I will succeed…