Thank you, 2017

2018 is here. And man, 2017 was crazy. I mean, 2017 was crazy for a lot of reasons. We started the year with a very orange, under-qualified, toxic man getting sworn in as our president, but I won't even address any of that right now because I don't want to. Because it still seems too unreal, and part of me still wants to believe he's playing some really long, terrible, unfunny trick on everyone in the world. But I know he's not.

Anyway, 2017 was a crazy year for me and Frank. After three years of trying to get pregnant, we decided to try In Vitro Fertilization. It worked, and I got pregnant on the first round. I'm two weeks away from bringing our baby girl into the world, and I still can't wrap my head around it. I didn't know if I'd ever get here. I felt like maybe my body wasn't made for this kind of thing. Like I was broken somehow. It seemed to be happening for my friends and family members so easily. What was wrong with me? I was embarrassed, depressed, bitter, angry, and resentful of my own body's monthly failures. But I had let it all rest for a year, and I let go of the pressure I was putting on myself. And in March of 2017, we started the process of IVF. I injected my belly with multiple medications for nine nights in a row, made several jokes to Frank about being a hen, whined a few times, cried a few times, had eggs retrieved from my ovaries, prayed that our fertilized eggs would be healthy, got acupuncture, stopped drinking coffee and alcohol, ate mostly organic food, cried a few more times, and finally after this two-month process, I had a healthy 5-day-old embryo transferred into my uterus. My fertility doctor gave it a 70% chance of success. And then we waited. And nine days later, I went to the doctor for my pregnancy blood test. I was sure it would be negative. Compared to dozens of months where I convinced myself that I WAS pregnant, I didn't feel any different this time. Although, the night before my test, I felt a tiny quick pain in my belly; something I hadn't felt before. I didn't want to overthink it though, and I was prepared for the worst. Frank had a backup plan: we'd go wine tasting that weekend and get out of town. I'd drink all the wine and all the coffee, and eat all the cheese and nitrate-filled salami. I refused to do a home pregnancy test that day because I had gotten to the point of hating those things. They gave me nothing but heartache and disappointment. I had only ever seen one line, or a negative sign, or the digital words "NOT PREGNANT," and I couldn't do it anymore. Nope. I would simply wait for the doctor's office to call me with official results. When they did call a few hours later, I was shaking. The nurse said "are you ready for some good news?" and I shook even more. "Yes," I whispered. She went on to tell me about my positive blood test, and my head felt like it was on a balloon, detached from my body. I was in a dream, thinking the words "I'm pregnant" over and over. She put my fertility doctor on the phone and he beamed to me about the "strong positive." I cried and thanked him. Later that day, I took a home pregnancy test so I could see for myself. The first positive pregnancy test I had ever seen. Two little lines. I stared at it for a long time. Then I placed it in front of my dog and took a picture, in case I'd use it as a funny announcement to a family member. I never did, and I'm not sure if anyone saw that photo. But it was funny to me. That was May of 2017.

The rest of the year was filled with various pregnancy symptoms, planning/prepping for a baby, some travel, a few music festivals, and improv. I went through the three "core track" improv classes at the Groundlings. I started the program in March, so some nausea and exhaustion coincided with night classes that went until 10:30pm. And then I drove an hour home. At times I felt insane for signing myself up for this type of schedule, but grateful and happy to be doing something that fulfilled my soul and gave me a fun social outlet. I did that for seven months, along with bi-monthly shows with my all-female improv team, The Brotherhood.

There were many struggles and powerfully sad events in 2017, but for me, it was also a year of pure gratitude. I've never felt so grateful for nausea. For backaches, for cramps. For insomnia and restless legs. For being so tired that I feel like I could cry, which led me to make up the word "cry-erd." I've never spelled that word before, but it rhymes with tired, in case you're unsure how to pronounce it. I'm aware of how lucky I am that I get to experience the amazing beauty of pregnancy, and in two weeks, motherhood. I've felt my baby move, and stretch, and kick inside my belly. She gets daily hiccups, which can be annoying but also adorable. She is breech, and my doctor said it's unlikely that she will flip to the head-down position at this point, so I will need to have a c section, but I'm still so grateful. I get to meet her in two weeks, and I can't wait. Thank you for the roller-coaster, 2017. I look forward to what's next, 2018. Happy New Year!

Dear Ian,

Today you would have been 39 years old. Every year, we reflect on your life, celebrate the years we spent with you, and consider what life would look like for you if you were still here. Your family all agrees that you'd have a wife and kids by now. You loved kids, and they were very drawn to you. You had a casual way of teasing them; you knew they could handle it because I did as your younger sister. Our little brother Bobby was four years old when you were seventeen. You liked to teach him lessons about pinching. He'd pinch you because he thought it was funny. You pinched him back to show him it hurts. "Maybe you shouldn't pinch him," I'd say. "Maybe he shouldn't pinch me," you would retort. He stopped pinching you pretty quickly, so I guess he learned his lesson. And he really looked up to you. He wanted "spiky hair like Ian's," and then he wanted "a shaved head like Ian's." Thankfully he didn't follow the "frosted tips like Ian's" trend. It was the end of the nineties. No one judges you for those frosted tips that eventually turned orange. Well, maybe I do a little.

When I think of how you were with kids, I can't help but turn my thoughts inward. To my and Frank's baby girl coming in January. To the uncle you would have been to her. It took us three years to get pregnant, and sometimes I would joke that maybe you were hanging out with our kid, teaching her some things, making her wait until she was ready to come meet us. Making sure we were ready for her. My heart aches when I think that she won't know her Uncle Ian. But I feel comfort in knowing that somehow she does and that somehow she will know you. It's because of stories we tell, and yearly celebrations we have, to honor the life you lived. And your brief visits to me in my dreams. You're still around, in all of us who know and love you.

I feel so blessed for the lessons you taught me and continue to teach me about life, love, friendship, and throwing caution to the wind. You loved people with your whole heart, and I still feel that every day. 

Happy birthday, brother bear.

Your sis,

Lauren

Ian and Bobby

In Dreams

This morning, I woke up at 7am, barely aware of my own existence and only able to shuffle my poorly working legs to the bathroom to pee. Note: I am NOT a morning person, and it takes me a good hour and a half to feel like I'm operating in the same realm as the rest of the human race. I laid back down on my bed and suddenly remembered that my brother Ian had been in my dream. It's been several months or maybe even a year since he's visited me in my dreams (that I can remember), and the memory was so vivid and real that I knew I had to immediately put it in my phone's notes so I wouldn't forget. I tried whisper-speaking it into my phone. "Ian was in my dream, and he had been away for a long time" was translated as "And in dream, the kittens awake," so side note, voice recognition does not work for a sleepy, raspy Lauren morning voice.

Anyway. As I jotted down notes from this brief dream, I immediately burst into an exhausted sob. I was instantly struck with how important and powerful this dream was. In all its simplicity, it meant so much to me:

My husband Frank and I were walking through some kind of basketball gym, when I saw Ian. I told Frank, "Ian's here!" and we walked towards him. As we approached, I thought, "I hope he likes Frank" (because older brothers can be very critical and make quick judgments when it comes to the person their little sister has chosen). But he was just as excited to see me as he was to finally meet Frank. He had heard so much about Frank, and his enthusiasm gave me instant relief. Ian looked healthy, and as I hugged him tight, I told him he seemed taller. In the twelve years since Ian died, the dreams I have about him all produce the exact same feeling; in every different situation, he has been "away" or "travelling" for a while and I can't contain my excitement about seeing him again and hugging the strong torso of his 6'4 body. He gave the best, most enveloping hugs, where I felt petite and important and loved. And in every dream, I know our time is brief because he has somewhere else to be. Other family and friends to visit. Other places to travel to. And he talks about it in his very calm Ian way. This dream was no different, except that this time, Frank was there, and Ian already loved him. My brother and my husband never got to meet in person, but somehow I feel like they have.

Ian and the Corn

I wrote this post on another blog in 2010, and I just felt like sharing this story today on Ian's birthday. We like to celebrate Ian's life every year since he passed in 2004. He would have been 38 years old today. I have no doubt that we'd still have this same ridiculous sibling battle today if he was still alive, which is why this story is so funny to me. I truly believe he found a way to still mess with his little sister in the best possible way:


When Ian and I were little, everyone tried to make us eat corn. Corn from a can. It was gross (and still is), so we threw tantrums, cried, and pushed the piles of corn around on our plates. We sat at the table for an extra hour sometimes, whining and complaining, and I gagged on every single bite. For a few months, we lived with our aunt and uncle, and they would get frustrated with us for not eating our corn. Our uncle would sing songs about corn. It was understood by all: Ian and Lauren do not like corn. It was something that Ian and I bonded over.

One day when I was twelve or so, I was at a barbecue at my aunt and uncle's house. Aunt Mary said, "Lauren, why don't you try corn on the cob?" She explained that it was very different from canned corn, was buttered and salted, and much tastier. I tried it. I liked it. I told Ian of this new discovery, thinking he'd want to try it out too. Maybe we'd both have a new Pro-Corn lease on life. Nope. He was not pleased. "You betrayed us, Lauren! You were 'The Gag'." Suddenly, my Good Fellasesque gangster name in our Anti-Corn Gang no longer held true. I had let down my Anti-Corn partner. Over the years, anytime someone would bring up the word "Corn," Ian would give me a stare down. He'd shake his head, ever-so-subtly and mutter "traitor" under his breath.

A few months after Ian died, I was working at a restaurant, and was about to deliver a pizza to a table. It was a cheese pizza, but I noticed a piece of corn on the side of the plate. I quickly brushed it off, as these things happened sometimes. A week or two later, a piece of corn was sitting on the side of a plate of a Chinese chicken salad. Again, I removed it. Another week or two later, a piece of corn was sitting inside a single scoop of plain vanilla ice cream. As I walked the ice cream (corn removed) over to a table, I thought, "Ian, you sly dog." I smiled, and carried on. This started happening every so often. I would find a single piece of corn in a salad, a cup of pea soup; in food where it did not belong. Every time, just one piece. I eventually started a jar of my corn collections, and it currently contains two pieces, although there were probably at least 10 other times that it happened. It's been awhile, and I started wondering if I would find another corn sign again. Another "hello" from my big brother Ian.

Last week, I was packing for a trip to Nashville, and Ian was on my mind all night. I sat and ate some leftover pizza, and again I wondered if he'd drop me a little sign to say hello. I even checked my pizza, lifting up the cheese while laughing, knowing I'd find nothing. Two hours later, I was cleaning and listening to Pandora. I had Beyonce radio on, and suddenly, a metal song started playing. I stood there in confusion, wondering what the HELL this metal song was doing on Beyonce radio. I also thought, "Is Ian playing some silly trick?" As I changed the song, I noticed the band: Korn. A smile spread across my face and I said out loud, "Well hello Ian!" I excitedly told a few people, and then felt the need to double check - was that really what I saw? Was Korn just playing on Beyonce radio? I remembered what the album cover looked like, so I looked up "Korn albums." I found it, and gasped when I saw the title of the album: See You on the Other Side.

Hello, Ian. Thanks for the Korn.
Love,
"The Gag"


P.S. Here's a picture of us at the San Jose airport. TOTAL NERDS.

For Ian, on his Birthday

My brother Ian's birthday is today, August 6th. He would have been 36 years old. This is the 10th birthday celebration we've had for him since he died. It doesn't quite feel like it's been ten years since he's been gone; his life's imprint is indelible, and his absence is felt every day. Every year, we celebrate his life and raise a toast to the man who brought a lot of love and light into our world.

He was loving, funny, kind, incredibly generous, smart, witty, and a little bit of a schemer. He was an extremely hard worker, but he also really liked the idea of getting things for free. So much so, that he would enter every contest he could find. He was certain he would win a car from a mall giveaway. He was definitely going to win a jackpot in Vegas. If you got into his car, you'd be sure to find dozens of Scratcher tickets strewn all over the floor of both his back and front seats. Now that I think of it, I must have gotten my Scratcher obsession from him, because as soon as he turned eighteen, he would buy one any time we went to the grocery store. One time, he entered a giveaway and won a "free trip to Vegas," AKA a bus-ride to some shitty hotel off the strip. He went. Of course he went. Along with this trip, he won a portrait session, which he somehow managed to drag me into. I was 14 and he was 17. He made me dress up, and we went to an office building somewhere in Canoga Park, where we waited in uncomfortable plastic chairs along with multiple families with hoards of screaming babies dressed up like dolls. The photographer posed us both, and kept touching my chin so that it would tilt in the perfectly awkward angle that he preferred.

This was the final awesome outcome of that journey:

Ian had a quiet coolness about him that was at times unsettling to people with personality types that required excessive talking. Sometimes he would remain silent for a while, until the perfect moment to interject with a quip or a sarcastic outburst. Other times, he was the life of the party, and the first person on the dance floor to bust out his ridiculous dance moves. Either way, his presence was always palpable.

He used to call me to say hi, and he would spend the first 30 to 60 seconds blasting a rap song through the phone. I'd hear him rapping along, and pictured him doing nerdy white-boy hand gestures to match the lyrics. He loved hardcore rap, but he also loved incredibly mushy R&B like Boyz II Men and Soul for Real. The song "Candy Rain," will always remind me of my brother. He'd drive me around in his Honda Accord and we'd listen to the Fugees, Dr. Dre, Snoop, and occasionally R.E.M or Aerosmith.

Ian did not like health food. He hated most vegetables and preferred bread, or breaded cheese. He loved maple donuts, vanilla ice cream, and Slurpees, and he disliked chocolate unless it was inside a chocolate chip cookie. His food choices hardly progressed past age six, as he often opted for chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks with a Shirley Temple. He despised water but loved Gatorade and cherry coke. Martinelli's apple juice and pink lemonade. Chocolate milk made with just the tiniest bit of chocolate powder. Pizza bagels, peanut butter cookies, Reese's Pieces, and apple pie. He ate 4 by 4's at In-N-Out. "But I had a Green Machine this morning," he'd say, as if the rest of his unhealthy eating was somehow negated by that one smoothie.

Over the last ten years, I've had dozens of dreams about Ian, and I strongly believe that he visits me in many of those dreams. For the first year or two, he would show up in a dream, and he always said he didn't have much time to stay and hang out because he had to go see other people. I would hug him tightly and tell him how much I'd missed him. Each time, my mind recognized the fact that he had been gone for a long, long time, but not the fact that he wasn't alive anymore. Perhaps because in my dreams, he is alive. Recently, his spirit showed up in my dream and he gave me a sign that he was in the room with me and our brother Josh. I felt comforted by his presence, even once I was awake.

I feel incredibly blessed to have had twenty-two years to spend with Ian. Twenty-two years as the little sister of a great human who adored his friends and family. Over the last ten years, I've learned even more about him through stories and memories from other people, and many of us have gotten closer in his absence. Ian knew how to make people feel loved. So, to my big brother on his 36th birthday, we love you and miss you! We'll have some Irish Car Bombs and celebrate you and your life. Thanks for being in ours.

Deals and Money-Savers you Should Know About

I'm pretty much an obsessed fan when it comes to good deals. I always tell friends about deals I come across, and after expressing concern for my mental state, many friends tell me I should be writing a blog about my money-saving tips. My husband jokingly tells me I should be arrested for some of the deals I get. Well, I've compiled my favorites, so here you go:


Ebates 
www.ebates.com
Sign up for a free account, and start getting cash back when you shop online. Anytime you buy a Groupon deal, or make a purchase from Nordstrom or Sears, or even Expedia, go to Ebates first and then search for the store/website. Each store has a different percentage of cash back that they give you, and many times, Ebates gives you a coupon code to use on that store's website as well. Once you make a purchase at that store, the cash back information is saved in Ebates as "Pending." After some time, your cash back is mailed to you in the form of a Big Fat Check. I didn't give it that title, but I wish I did. The last Big Fat Check I got was for $20, and I got it just for shopping online at a few stores I was already going to purchase from. You may think, "3% back is not worth it." Whatever, MoneyBags Magoo. Those small percentages add up over time. Duh.


Julep
www.julep.com
This beauty company offers a subscription box service, and when you sign up, the first box is free! You can cancel at any time. I paid $2.99 just to cover the shipping cost, and a few days later, I got my box with 3 nail polishes, a two-sided eyeliner (brown and black), a pencil sharpener, and a lip gloss. The products are great quality, and are made without harmful, toxic chemicals. Use this link to get your box for free: http://www.julep.com/rewardsref/index/refer/id/1191775/


Swagbucks
www.swagbucks.com
Earn points for internet searches, daily polls, etc., and turn those points into gift cards. I've cashed in at least $50 for amazon, just from using Swagbucks as a search engine.


Mogl
www.mogl.com
Certain restaurants in big cities are starting to participate in Mogl. Create an account on Mogl, and link your credit and debit card to it. When you go to a participating restaurant, use one of the cards linked to your account, and you'll get cash back. A really awesome bonus is that they donate a meal to a local food bank each time you use your account.


Double Take Offers
www.doubletakeoffers.com
This is a good website to use to get coupons or deals in your area. There's a BBQ place by us that we love going to, and they have a $10 for $20 deal right now. It's awesome.

Happy Christmas!

Um, how is it already December 11? Am I in a time warp? I feel like November didn't exist. Only half of October existed. Maybe only one day of October, because I do remember dressing up as a witch that one day. Unless I was just having a bad day, I think that day was Halloween. For real though, Christmas is in 2 weeks. And then it will be 2014 and then I will be 50 years old. I think I'm exaggerating just a little bit, but I definitely feel like I can't keep up. Those of you with kids, I'm sure you are reading this thinking, "Just wait til you have kids." Ugh! How do you do it?

Anyway, since it's Christmastime, I wanted to share these vintage-style ornaments I've been making and selling on my Etsy shop. They are made on hand-stained wood, and they hang on a really pretty silver chain. I decided to try a chain instead of a ribbon, and I'm happy I did! It brings an elegance to the ornament, and gives it a unique feel. I love trying new projects and I'm excited about these ornaments! Happy Christmas, Hermione!