I decided to try to write earlier in the day. Most of my posts are late at night when I can’t sleep and I need to put the words in writing to get them out of my head. Does that make sense? This past week I just can’t seem to have a decent day. Each day is filled with tears, screaming and ugly crying. I am set off easily, raw and sensitive. The puppy is still not a great sleeper and last night urinated in his kennel and I swear rolled around in it like cologne to spite me. I think he was very soundly sleeping as he had his shots yesterday. I picked a very cranky 15 year old up from a sleepover and took him with me to Marymoor with the false assumption he would get out of the car and help me give Finn a bath at the dog wash. When he didn’t I decided to first walk over to the Dog Park which is quite extensive I found. I figured more mud was just fine. He loved it, me not so much. I was cold and paranoid that all the other dogs would hurt my puppy or have a disease. A great dane went by that his ears came up to my shoulder. Finn at 40 pounds fit neatly under him and proceeded to sniff out his dick. I scolded “Finn, uh uh, leave him alone”. His owner said “that’s okay, it IS awfully big”. I had to chew my tongue not to respond with “that’s what she said”. Evidently all dog people ARE weird. I was not wearing a coat or shoes for this mucking place. When I went to wash the dog, Henry claimed an upset stomach and stayed in the car. While I juggled his debit card, paying, the dog’s leash, and his need to love everyone I dropped my phone. I had to use Henry’s debit card because I am still missing my wallet and it is looking more likely Finn took it and hid it with his other treasures under the deck. It is Hayley’s Kate Spade thin one that would be so much fun to hide. We don’t have access to under the deck ourselves. The phone landed screen down in it’s Folio Case shattering the screen protector and the small part of the phone screen not covered by the protector. I had just complained to my Verizon guy, yes I have a guy, that the protector didn’t go all the way to the screen’s edges and that the protector makers needed to get their shit together. My first thought was this would not have happened if that boy would have gotten his teen ass out of the car and helped me. So now I am mad at Henry.
Washing Finn is something you cannot do and be mad. He is so funny and wants to like it but thinks maybe he shouldn’t. When done, he was clean, mostly dry and gorgeous. I get him down and he runs to greet the proprietor and proceeds to roll around in a puddle on the floor. It is clean water but now he is soaking wet. I decide to keep him clean and carry him to the car. He is over 40 pounds and I am weak. I am huffing and puffing with one dog leg over a shoulder, my arm between his back legs and his massive head under my chin walking briskly in the muddy parking lot towards my car, yelling, “Henry open the car door”. Henry does not even get out to open it, opens it from the back seat. So now I have a wet dog and the wet dog smell in the car and it is making Henry queasy, eye roll. Dude, I have not showered since I think Monday, smelling like a wet dog is an improvement for me. I get home with a long list of chores that of course I won’t do. After blow drying Finn I will lay on the couch for the rest of the day occasionally weeping. After his blow out he goes outside and under the deck getting muddy all over again. We are not speaking right now.
I was scrolling through Facebook even though I know I shouldn’t. I swear it seems the majority of everyone I know has a daughter and then a son. WTF, was it in the water? They all have posted great Christmas photos. Matching PJ’S, fun vacations, and dinners. For the first time I truly feel jealous so I promise Scott I will cut back my social media use. Insert eye-roll. I notice one of my favorite people has posted and he does not do that often. It is David, my best friend from Junior High. He lives in London with his awesome partner and their two boys. It was the second post this week. The other night he took his oldest son sledding at midnight. I was so proud of him. These are the things Hayley and I would do because why not? If you think of it, do it. Don’t wait. Do something out of the ordinary or daring with your kids. Create memories. Okay, lecture done. David had posted a nice remark about Meghan Markle, Harry’s fiance. He included a speech she had given at a United Nations Women’s meeting in 2015. I have listen to this speech before. I related to it, and I found the story charming and inspiring. I watched it again. By the time it was done…down the rabbit hole I went, ugly crying along the way. Looks like the evening xanax shall be taken early today. Why am I upset about a story about an 11 year old Meghan Markle. I have never even watched the show Suits. Then it hit me. Just like before I related to the story. I realized that I had worked my ass off to raise a strong, confident, kind, loving young woman and that all of it was a waste. It was gone in a moment. All of that work to make sure she understood despite what she might read, see or hear that women were 100% equal to men. Just like the gorgeous smile it took several years of braces for Dr. Nelson to give her, what a waste of that beautiful smile. I can remember dozens of teaching moments and lessons that Scott and I taught her. I can remember they were not always the easy way to parent, but we did it. When we went to the sex and puberty class at Overlake Hospital in the 4th grade, the pediatrician said the most important indicator of a girl successfully navigating puberty was an involved Father. So Scott joined us for “the talk”. Scott was home when she got her period on black Friday and talked her off the ledge, that she didn’t need to call me two dozen times, it was not rocket science, he could handle this. He stretched the bands of gender roles in parenting when he was a stay at home father. We shared ALL parenting duties except breast feeding. Even in that he was supportive. He was the only man in my Breast Feeding 101 class. We figured I would forget half of it and he needed to be able to give suggestions based in fact and not guessing that if I just held the baby differently it would eat. It seriously did not cross our minds that he didn’t go to that class. We made the baby together, it was our first and we didn’t know what the fuck we were doing so any education was important. She had to eat. He changed 90% of all diapers for both kids. He got up every time they did. Changed the diaper and brought them to the milk wagon. When done he took them back to their crib. He took three months off to care for baby Hayley so she didn’t start daycare until 6 months. I truly believe these decisions are what made Hayley and Scott so close.
These are just a few of the things we did as parents to show her she was equal, she could do or be anything she wanted. We tried to show her by our own example. Was it always easy? Hell NO! We live in a community dominated by very stereotypical gender roles. We live in an affluent community where the positives outweigh the negatives 10 to 1. In most of the kids classes I would say there was maybe 30% of the Moms that worked outside the home. We lived in a bubble, a safe place, but with not the most diverse example or at least obvious ones of gender role reversal. I can remember more than one Dad “friend” at parties or BBQs crack jokes to Scott about being a kept man or his wife being the boss. I am already the more outgoing and extroverted of the marriage, these comments made him feel less and impacted our marriage negatively. Scott and I worked together but when business was busy we did the roles that we were best at. I sell better, not by much, and he changes diapers way better than me, by a lot. Neither of us can cook though.
Back to 2017, we had just started to see the results of all of our hard and purposeful parenting. She had wanted to work in law enforcement since 7th grade. She planned to apply for a Quantico internship Junior year. She had done a ride along with the only female officer on the WWU force. She wanted to be like Officer Bianca. It didn’t surprise us she was choosing a male dominated field. 
In fact she probably didn’t even notice. She had taken classes that had inspired her. I would say she was developing into a conservative liberal like myself. She enjoyed her women’s study classes because they made her think and it pissed her off that women made less money than men. But at the same time she would crack derogatory comments about the radical feminists in her class. They pissed her off daily. We both were so excited for the election. I was confident that my wish for a female president in my daughter’s lifetime was going to come true. Plus how could Donald Trump actually win. I saw Hillary’s flaws but was more of an anti Trump and pro woman in the white house fan. I just felt that what she could accomplish just by having boobs in the white house was going to be extraordinary for my gender. I will try to add the video of Hayley on election night if I can. I really would not have had a problem with a republican but it needed to be more John McCain republican. I am socially liberally all the way left and fiscally conservative more right middle. That candidate didn’t exist in my opinion.
I said so many times that I wanted to see a female president in my daughter’s lifetime. It kills me to think that is not even possible now. My daughter is gone, it can’t happen. Last night there was a Colbert rerun with Hilary Clinton pushing her book, “What Happen?”. I remember the first time I saw the interview, I liked her still. Last night I wanted to reach into the TV and shake her and yell “What the FUCK happen?”. You ruined it. You only had to beat Donald Trump, what the fuck. My daughter is gone and was totally disgusted with our political system when she died. Jaded at 19. All because of what? Is it in your book? Cause I really want to know. You short changed my daughter. All of the parenting work, the women can do anything they want banter of her childhood; all of that was put in a time capsule and either tossed back to 1950 or shoved up Trump’s ass. Your failure made me look like a liar!
My mom is a feminist, I am a feminist, and Hayley was a feminist. But we all three have different definitions of that word. When Hayley was taking a sociology class we looked it up. Here is the link I thought was the most interesting definition of feminism. There are multiple answers but it is Vivek’s that I found the easiest to understand. https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-different-types-of-feminism
So here I am, the only female in my house, well me and Zoey. As I watched Meghan Markle talk about her 11 year old self. One that sounded just like my Hayley, I realized it was still Christmas break. Hayley should be sitting on the couch next to me watching one of her shitty reality shoes while I surfed the internet and worked on my job hunt as planned. All I could feel was this deep anger starting to bubble to the surface. MY DAUGHTER SHOULD NOT BE GONE! She should be giving a speech at the United Nations in the next ten years. When I was asked as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up I said every single time “a President”. I would be asked to clarify “President of the United States?”. Possibly I would say or President and CEO of a very large company. Most of the time I was not taken seriously and god help anyone that laughed in my mother’s hearing range. Having gone to a different elementary school each year I would have to reestablish myself as smart for my new teachers, they did not have a previous teacher to ask. My previous year’s teacher was not sending an email about me to my new teacher. (for you younger folks, because we didn’t have email) So not only did I have to work harder than everyone else because I was a girl, but harder because I was the new kid. I remember in the second grade my teacher wanted to speak to my mother. The teacher explained that on a group project I was too bossy and wouldn’t let the other kids help. My mom looked at me and asked me to explain. I said the other kids did not know how to do the assignment and I didn’t want a bad grade because they were stupid. (never had a good filter) My Mom said “I don’t see a problem here” and we left. In the third grade I was at a school where some of the kids were pulled out one or two days a week for the “gifted” program. I wanted it bad. Those kids got to do more math and science! I was geeking out. My competition was Lee. Not only was he smart he was a dick. A mean kid. He laughed when I didn’t know what “humping” meant. I still blame Lee for one of the things that left a scar on my childhood. When I got home I asked my Mom what humping was. She proceeded to send my dad to the store for milk and sit down with a book that had graphic pictures. Some of you seventies and eighties kids might remember it, “When a child is born”. The real trauma came when she thought the book was lacking in detail and drew pictures for me. She is not artistic and sometimes I still have nightmares. Also, I never forgave my Dad for clearly going to milk a cow for that milk.
Back to Lee the Dick. Lee and I were chosen as boy and girl of the year for the first half of the school year. It was based on grades and test scores. The highest boy and the highest girl. My math and reading scores (see 2nd grade) put me ahead of Lee. But guess who got chosen as the representative for the gifted program? Yep Lee the Dick. I don’t remember the details but I am pretty sure my Mom got involved in this one too. But in the end it didn’t matter because I switched schools again in the 4th grade and found amazing teachers at Bonney Lake Elementary. I loved the 4th grade. We would have long division and multiplication contests weekly. It was kind of like Math Jeopardy. Two sides of the board. Two students. A problem was given and whomever solved it first stayed up there to challenge the next. I was rarely beaten. So my teacher decided to tap into my competitive nature. It was such a fun game. She would send me to the 5th grade class, Mr. Waz (Wazleski) and I would challenge the 5th graders. I was in heaven and I was heart broken to leave those two teachers in the middle of the 5th grade because of my parent’s divorce.
I was so happy when I had a daughter to raise. I was thrilled when I got a boy and had one of each! I felt like we were rewarded for not peeking at the ultrasounds both times. Hayley didn’t have my take no prisoners personality, probably because she didn’t have to always prove herself. She had the competitiveness and Dance was an amazing outlet for that. She had strong beliefs and not the best filter. She didn’t really care about her grades until she realized it might keep her out of WWU. She was obsessed with doing well in College, she knew this was where the real learning could happen. Both book and life. She was so excited to have her new body and to kick off the sophomore year. She should be sitting with me right now bitching about how half her professors have not entered final grades yet while at the same time watching Housewives of New Jersey. Instead she is sitting in an urn on the mantle while Donald Trump golfs for the 86th time in one year of his presidency. All of that parenting, all of that learning, her potential to do great things and change the world. Gone. This royally pisses me off and makes me profoundly sad. She was my partner in crime, my best friend, the female love of my life, the missing piece of my heart.
It was truly stunning. But it was also where I really went down one of those mental rabbit holes. The Grand Canyon claims many lives every year. Falls are common. Most of the Rim trail you can walk right up to the edge and look down. One clumsy moment, one selfie attempt and it is all over. At the look outs they have a metal rail, thin and around waist high on me. At the last few stops I stood alone at the rail. I gripped it tight and weeped at the injustice of this tragedy. I stared through the tears at this huge abyss of beauty. I thought to myself, my grief would fill this canyon. How do I recover from something so massive. I truly believe I never will. As I gripped the rail I thought about how would it feel to just let go. Let go of the rail, let go of the grief and just fly. I leaned a little forward. The landscape below and in front of me was breathtaking. It didn’t look real. It looked like a painting. If I let go would it feel right, would I feel free from this heavy rock of grief I carry. Henry and Scott were further down the trail. They wouldn’t noticed, they would not witness my choice. I leaned a little more but kept a firm grip on the rail. The idea of letting go was so appealing I began to shake. The tears started as soon as I had gripped the rail. Could I do it? What would that do to Henry? Would it screw him up for the rest of his life. He already has to live with grief that will eventually sneak up on him and take him down. I knew I would not let go, but the fact that my mind went down that road scared the shit out of me. The clouds, the blue sky, Hayley was there because I was completely open at that moment, able to let in all of the emotions I constantly fight to keep locked down. My heart said to let go. My mind ran through all of the practical consequences. I don’t have a job, or life insurance. I would leave them in a bad situation financially. Scott would have to get them home. I kind of laughed, he really sucks at the details. They would probably get on the wrong plane. What would happen to my dogs? I still need to meet the woman with my daughter’s heart. I thought about how so many women I know would be so pissed. Like really really pissed. This journal is about honesty. This is truly honest. I don’t think Scott noticed my plight. The above scenario happened at three different points along that trail. It only happen when there was a railing to grasp. That told me I was safe, I would not let go. If I was going to let go it would be were there was not a railing, a lifeline to hang on to.
I listened to the bartender talk about a guy that got out of hand the night before and landed one of the servers in jail. Sedona is not the quiet place I thought. Henry actually hung out with us for hours. Food was outstanding. We ate dessert first, why not, it’s vacation. I had the most amazing chili in this big kettle pot. Had pizza delivered for and while the boys were in the pool. Henry was still complaining from back pain. We still shook our head that our 15 year old pulled a muscle golfing. Seriously that is usually Scott. Evidently this week is one of their slowest here at the resort. At times we feel like we have the place to ourselves. That evening Henry didn’t think gaming. He chose to hang out with his dorky parents. But everything seem to be in fours. Four chairs at the tables. Four scrabble letter holders. If we rented an off road vehicle to explore, four seats.
I enjoyed being squished up against him with his arm around the back of me, my hand on his knee. It almost felt like we were a normal couple. The ride was rough and exciting, the final destination was breathtaking. I knew that in my current physical condition hiking that far into the protected land and getting that close to those gorgeous rocks is not going to happen. There was an extra seat in the jeep that held dusty blankets. That would have been her seat.
He wasn’t perfect but he kept it in what would be the fairway most of the time. I was so excited to see him basking in the praise of his Dad and Uncle. He smiled a lot. Not once did he complain about being on vacation. Thank you Top Golf!
One friend reached out. She happened to contract for the CEO of Top Golf. Again, what a small world. We don’t even have one in Washington (yet). She told him our story and asked what time we were going back. She told me to ask for Kirk. I was thinking we would get to have a “bay” (like a lane in bowling) in a prime location. Well yes that did happen when Kirk greeted us. But we also met several other managers. The place was incredibly busy with corporate and large group holiday parties. As a business major I was drooling at all that was running so smoothly around me. We were escorted to a prime location up on the top deck. My friend had told me we would be comped. First not sure I have ever used the word comped in a sentence and I am thinking woo hoo a free hour of golf. It was more like “how long would you like to play?”; swipe of his magic card and the three of us started our “family” vacation. We had the best server, Nya. Like seriously I wanted to take this girl home with me and adopt her. We talked and laughed. I told her about Hayley. Management obviously knew our story and were interested in chatting with us whenever they could stop by our bay. Nya informed me that we were VIPs. Henry thought this was pretty cool and I raised a “thank you so much” to my friend towards the NW skies. One manager asked me are you upper managers or directors. I wish, remember still need job. No, I explained we were just a family of four that was now a family of three that were lucky despite their tragedy to know really amazing people. These people saw we were coming and decided to make sure we had fun.
Each year I bought two. The kids would have a contest with Scott and I as the judges. Each year Hayley would lose patience about halfway through and start drawing stuff with the icing. Last year’s work of art had penises on the roof and other places. Needless to say, Henry won. I started crying immediately. Just big silent tears rolling down my face. I worked my way to the cameras and had a great employee help me out. Two aisles away another amazing Hayley and Mom opportunity for Fun. They had mermaid pillows! These are sequin pillows that you rub and they change colors. Shortly before her surgery we tried to spell a fun message out of pillows on a shelf in Bed Bath and Beyond. We kept being interrupted by an employee. Our giggles got loud and we didn’t accomplish our goal so we spent 45 minutes sitting in the massage testing chairs. We talked and caught up about Spring quarter.
This picture inspired me to do the same with the mermaid pillows. But these suckers are kid magnets and I swear, there were a hundred kids there on a Friday night, mostly unsupervised. They kept interrupting my hi-jinks. 
Finally I accomplished my goal! I had been caught and I just smiled and waved. Get this; the young couple looked disgusted and she, being deaf, signed word “ass” so I know they were talking about me. Whatever that was funny shit.
I was tucked under the shelves and needed that break before I hauled my tired ass to the check out. But why do we judge people. We should admire people that seem to be having fun or doing their own thing. If they are not hurting anyone or doing something illegal, who cares. Smile.
Honestly the poor checker was so slow and obviously flustered by the insanity. Candles were even sold out online. I think some of those bitches would have cut someone for the Balsam Candle. At this time my friend saunters up and says straight faced “excuse me ma’am but you are holding up the line” I responded loudly “you know what, go fuck yourself”. I had no filter. I usually have a pretty flimsy one to start with, but the filter was non existent this night. The poor cashier was like ‘blink, blink’ with no smile at all. I explained that was my friend. Still no smile. Really? That was funny shit. I did monopolize the cashier for a long time so I headed towards my friend three back in the line. Again she says something like “You took long enough, did you have to smell them all geez”. I responded with “kiss my ass” loudly to the dismay of the mother and her 7 year old right behind us. Crap! I apologized profusely, the woman gave me nothing, no response, no words, no smile. She put one hand over her daughter’s right ear. WTF, can she not hear me curse out of the left ear. The 7 year old actually cracked a smile and I saw in her eyes that her mom clearly has used the word ‘Ass’ in front of her before. 
Many encouraged the puppy as a therapy dog for me. I can’t sleep in, or go back to bed with a canine baby set on destroying our home and tormenting my older dogs. I have never been a morning person but guess who is up between 5:30 to 6:00 every fucking morning. Yep, that adorable puppy. All of us are so in love with this little bundle of fluff. He has me moving a little more each day. He knows when we need a hug and when we need to play. He loves anyone he meets. I watch him interact with others and my family. I think to myself we all should be like Finn. Everything makes him happy. Zoey growls at him or Charlie hides upstairs because he doesn’t want to play with Finn, but he does a doggy shrug and moves on. I wish I could do that. I wish I could fall asleep as fast as he does. (except at night in the crate) I wish I was entertained by chasing leaves blown by the wind. I am trying to be like Finn. He even has an instagram. this has been a great distraction. @belikefinnthegolden @belikehayley
When I needed a rest they loved watching Finn for me.
The man on the phone was amazing. He thanked me for telling him about our tradition and our family’s sorrow. He seemed sincere in his happiness we were still going. We had an extra seat at the table. Instead of having her seat empty we filled it with one of her favorite people. So there we were, an eclectic group of “family” waiting. Three McCutcheons, two Cousins and a homeroom teacher! When I checked us in I was feeling overwhelmed by the people and the surreal feeling that Hayley was not standing next to me planning her buffet strategy. The hostess said “Welcome, we have been waiting for you”. Uh, okay. I sat with my group and the hostess came to ask if we minded waiting 20 minutes for a view table so that our out of town relatives could enjoy the city and water view. Of course we didn’t we were all together chatting, even Henry, so we could wait. Again she returned and asked if I could come with her to look at our options. She said they had two VIP tables that would be available shortly. She held my hand as we worked our way towards the water view. I chose a wonderful table. 
I did feel like a Very Important Person. I was, I am Hayley’s Mom. Everyone ate until they couldn’t eat another bite. We visited the Macy’s Parade Nutcrackers like we do every year. 
We walked as far as we could along the water without puking. Just like all the other years. Just like our old tradition but also new traditions. The 10 dollar ceramic turkey from Fred Meyers was on the table. I slipped a few apple dumplings in a baggie in my purse just like Hayley would have. (probably not continuing that one)
