Media Messages

Hey Cuddlebug, I'm in here with the kids. Tiffany works so hard. She's on her way home. I'm glad. She's my best friend. My wife. I'm excited we're going to have some family time today. Nothing too big for us. The kids want to watch a movie. We believe in earning movies here. Television is not our family's primary source of entertainment. We monitor the children's media exposure. Our children are not allowed to watch television by themselves. I know it sounds a bit extreme or overbearing. I'm not saying they won't ever watch television by themselves, and maybe our way of doing this may lead them to be more interested in television because of this restriction, but I am concerned about the influence. We are raising our children. We are not going to stand by and allow the television to raise our kids. All of the things a television shows, that's input. It can influence their behavior. I'm going to continue to watch television with my children. Yes, they have selection and we evaluate their choices together. Programs they choose that are not suitable for viewing are delayed until they are the proper age to watch them. The most interesting thing about the selections (most of the things) they choose to watch are funny or educational program, cartoons and documentaries. You're going to love your niece and nephew.

This brings me to the troubling part of this blog; your YouTube message. I don't really do this Internet thing. Your message came at a time for me of great optimism. Your diary had just been published. I felt publishing your diary would bring you home without any trouble. I don't want you to go to jail. I want you to get help. We have been advised that you can receive help. This is my wish for the complex situation.

I got a call from a friend saying, "to look at this YouTube message." I saw the address and I instantly thought it was part it was some sort of promotion for the book. I wrote Tshombe and asked him did they put the YouTube up? He told me he hadn't seen it yet but he could confirm that the publishing company had nothing to do with the YouTube message. I wondered if there was some sort of prank. I went to the site and viewed it. I was horrified. It wasn't it your face but I knew it was you. I know you anywhere, Cuddlebug.

The way you looked on that video brought me to bring new realization I never wanted to comprehend. Cuddlebug… It's possible that you're responsible for the things you wrote about in your diary. It's possible your words printed on those pages are more than just a cry for help. They seem like a confession.

I've always discounted the possibility that you are responsible for those occurrences because how could a teenage girl your size have done things like that? The way you acted after your parent's car went off the road in that horrible accident did not match what you wrote in your diary. I told Tshombe and I told the police that only a few entries with my name had any validity. I cried and cried when I read the whole story. I told them that you must have been brainwashed or forced to do something, but after seeing that video, I'm not sure. I still love you. The Cuddlebug I know is written in those first pages. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever in danger. Your brother never had a friend named Erick that I knew of.

I haven't given up hope that you will contact me again. I haven't condemned you and I haven't given up on you. I believe in you, Cuddlebug. I know you are still good at heart and your nature is as pure as if you never laid eyes on a television. You're not evil. I cannot read these those words and believe you're evil. I don't believe it. I just don't. I'm still waiting on you Cuddlebug. Whenever you decide to come back home, I will be here to greet you with open arms. Whatever happens, we will figure it out together. Love you Sarah. Miss you. TTYL.

Rise & Shine

My only day off in nine days and I wake-up to screaming kids. My day off coincided with the children's school day-observance of President’s Day. I knew I was going to have to watch them and I had plans to take them out to run errands with me. Justice hates to go, but Free loves it. I'm still going to take them out, but I had to play mediator / life coach first – parenting.

Justice damaged one of Free's dollhouses. I'm not sure if he did it intentionally. He's a boy. He was playing Army raid on her dollhouse and broke a door and a window. It really wasn't that bad, but Free is a girly-girl and it upset her. She started crying and yelling at him which made him respond by yelling back, because he didn't think it was that bad. I woke up.

I'm not a yeller (really), but I did have the intention of yelling when I woke up to screaming kids. Free is ten-years-old and Justice is eight. They are not toddlers. When I entered the room, they were in a yelling match and didn't even notice me. For a moment I stopped and looked into the future. I envision them as adults fighting like this and I didn't like that vision. It scared me. I listened to what they were fighting over and looked at the dollhouse to inspect the damage. They finally noticed me in the room. "Mom! Justice broke my dollhouse. Tell him to stop playing with my things."
"I didn't mean to break the stupid window on your dollhouse!"
"Yes you did!"

I picked up the broken window piece. It only needed some glue. I looked at the door and it was completely broken off the hinges of the dollhouse. It needed to be replaced. The children, my children, became calm observing my energy in response to theirs. I didn't' yell. I didn't choose sides. I didn’t accuse or attack. I told Justice to go get some glue from the junk drawer in the kitchen. He didn't argue. He went to get it. I picked up the broken door pieced and asked Free if she wanted it replaced or could we just leave it off? She was still upset and so she said she wanted it replaced. I said, "Okay." Justice returned with the glue. I told him he'd have to take money from his piggy bank to pay for the door on the dollhouse to be replaced. He said, "okay" but he said it with a sense of force. I told him to come over to me. He did. I took my left arm and hugged him close. I took the broken dollhouse door and put it in his hand. I kissed him on the cheek and told him thank you for being a responsible young man and replacing your sister's door. I then called Free over and hugged her with my other free arm (no pun intended :-) ). I kissed her on the cheek and told them both, "We are a family. We work together. We respect each other. We work things out. When you both become older, you will need each other. If something ever happened to me, you both would need to stick together." Justice started crying and told Free “Sorry.” She came over and hugged her little brother. I hugged them both and everyone had tears, but the tears were happy tears. Justice said, "Mommy, I don't want you to go away." I smiled at his love for me. I hugged my big, strong baby boy and told him “Mama's not going anywhere no time soon. You owe me grandkids.” We both smiled. Then I told them to get ready because we were going out for pizza (and errands :-) ).

No, I didn't wake-up the way I thought I should have, but I wouldn't trade how I woke up for anything. Well, I have to go Cuddlebug. I miss you a lot. I hope and pray you come home soon. Your niece and nephew want to meet you real bad. I love you, Cuddlebug. You know how to reach me. I can't wait to hear from you.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Tiffany and I had dinner at a local seafood restaurant last night. We live in the San Francisco Bay area. This is a region in America of extreme diversity. This is a place where you can and will see it all. You would expect in a place this diverse with one of the largest gay and lesbian populations on earth that a lesbian couple could enjoy a nice Valentine's dinner without incident, but that was not the case last night.

Public displays of affection are normal for two people who are truly in love. A public display of affection doesn't have to be heavy petting, kissing, or graphic physical attention. It can be a simple matter of holding hands or wiping food from the corner of your beloved's mouth. Tiffany and I display our love in this fashion. I don't expect everyone to agree with our lifestyle.

I absolutely love seafood. I refuse to eat seafood in places that don't have an ocean within a five mile proximity. Land-locked states or inland valleys in California might as well not even have a seafood restaurant as far as I'm concerned. That's how I am about my seafood. Tiffany knows this and she knows where my favorite seafood restaurant is. She came home early and surprised me. I'm not big on date celebrations. I don't believe Valentine's Day is a day where I must express my love. I'm not bitter, it's just how I am but you know that already, Cuddlebug. Tiffany's not that way. She is big on all holidays. She gets this sparkle in her eyes I can't begin to explain. She turns into a little girl and it's like she's experiencing every holiday for the first time. I have come to expect her joyful mood and I embrace it. I get caught up in her love and energy and forget what day it is – holiday, weekend, I don't know. I just know that I love this woman and she loves me. She took me to my favorite seafood restaurant for Valentine's Day.

I ordered clam chowder, scallops, and beer-battered shrimp. Tiffany ordered shrimp cocktail and calamari. We enjoyed a bottle of white wine from a vineyard we stayed at on our honeymoon. The wine flowed and our conversation contained pure love. I held her hand across the table and we waited on dessert. We ordered a few slices of cheesecake. Both of our hands outstretched across the table. I do admit we kissed once, but it wasn't a long kiss. Our lips touched for only a few moments. Lost in her eyes, I didn’t notice the manager walking over to our table. He interrupted our trance. He said, "Excuse me ladies, but a couple has complained that their children are in the restaurant and they would like to have the public display of affection minimized." At first, I became self-conscious because there were children present. I felt bad and worst of all, I felt ashamed. In this day and age it is still taboo, especially for children, to see same sex public displays of affection. There's not enough education so those displays are very shocking to children and that's why I felt bad. I felt ashamed because in some sense I acknowledged we are supposed to be hidden. Then Tiffany said two magic words, "What kids?" I looked around in the restaurant and there were no children to be found. In that moment, I knew I wasn't going to eat dessert, nor was I every going to eat there again. I won't eat from the hands of people who don't approve of me. I asked the manager where the children were. He told us they left after the complaint. That's when I stood up and said, "You can't expect me to believe that. It's 10:00pm on Valentine's Day in the San Francisco Bay Area. If someone objected to two people in love enjoying themselves on Valentine's Day you and your staff should have said something to them, not us." I demanded the check, paid for our meal, and left that restaurant, never to return.

I cried last night. In this day and age, I can't understand how people can still put parameters on who can love who. My grandmother used to tell me that you can't put a bottle around happiness and sell it. Different things make different people happy. I can't believe the understanding of a person can be so limited that they could place their own personal standards on how someone else should be happy. If I found love, why should my love be subject to a different set of standards than someone else who's found love? The one thing I feel bad about from last night is that I felt ashamed. I'm not going to subscribe to the taboo of my relationship with Tiffany. I love her and she makes me happy. I love her and I make her happy. I'm not going to hide that or feel ashamed for anyone. That won't happen again. I just wish you would have said something, Sarah. I know you were there last night. I felt you. Stop hiding from me, Cuddlebug. I need you. I miss you. Don’t forget our promise. Write more later.

Still Waiting...

There was hope today. I thought today would be the day we would finally bring you home. I felt a sense of completion. I felt as though my efforts had worked. I started this blog to reach out to you. I started this blog to find you and bring you home. Every time I've posted an entry, I've known one day you would read it. I thought today would be the day that we brought you home. I was wrong.

When I read the diary for the first time, I was shocked. So many things you wrote didn't make sense to me. I was reading something that didn't happen. To me, it's a horror story. It didn't even sound like you Cuddlebug. If I had not seen it in your handwriting, I wouldn't have believed it was you. I've always had some serious questions about this since the police contacted me. I was a complete mess. I thought the cops were coming to arrest me for some other things I'd done while using drugs. I wasn't really hiding from the law. I only had a few petty shoplifting cases and disturbing the peace. I wasn't a serious criminal. I admit I had done some things I hadn't gotten in trouble for and that's why I thought they were coming to get me.
I had a post office box in my name. My general assistance check would come there once a month. The only time I'd ever go to that box was around the time that check would be there. That check . . . my junkie addiction pulling me toward that check. The full circle. They told me to hold on while they went to grab my mail. I waited. Two men walked up to me, held up some police identification and said my name. I started to turn and run. The addict in me. All I had on me was a few grams of hash, but I just know they were there to bust me for it. The funny thing about my desire to run was that I wasn't afraid to go to jail (I've been locked up for a few days before.) I was afraid I wasn't going to get my check and that meant no more drugs. I remember wishing I had my check in my hand so at least when I got out I could go use again. Then one of the detectives said, "We are here to talk to you about Sarah Brown." My mind went blank for a minute and all of my addict tendencies went out the window.

That's how I found out. That's how I learned what happened to you. I didn't see it on the news. I didn’t get a call from a relative or friend. The police took me downtown, asked me some questions and showed me a copy from the pages of your diary. I thought you were dead. I told the cops something must have happened to you and that they needed to find you. The cops weren't as positive as I was. They pulled out a few sections of the diary and asked me to verify if your accounts matched my recollections. I read each page with horror. It was this twisted mix of truth and fiction. I couldn't understand what it all meant. I pushed the pages away from me. The cops asked me again if I recalled any of it. I began to cry. In that moment, I knew you were not dead and that you hadn't been kidnapped. I told the police the truth. I told them I did not recall the events in your diary. Then I went and got my check.

From that day when I wandered the streets, I always had this hope that I would run into you or that you would find me or I would find you. Yesterday I thought I received a message from you. I really thought it was you. Maybe it was. There were things said that I still feel only you would know. We were supposed to meet at the coffee shop today. I waited . . . I waited . . . I waited . . . and I waited. I waited there until the shop closed. I waited three hours after the shop closed. I showed people the picture I have of you from when we were kids and asked them had they seen you. With no luck I ran home thinking maybe you left a message on the blog. You didn’t.

Sarah, if that was truly you, please contact me again. I won't tell anyone about it. I just want to see you again and know you're okay. I love you Sarah and I miss you so much. Please. Please. Contact me again. We miss you Sarah. You know how to reach me.