This will be a not so wordless Wordless Wednesday.  I apologize in advance, but I just received the news and this is all I can think about.

Please, if you could spare any positive energy or thoughts for my younger sister (pictured in the far left), I would really appreciate it.

Last week, she sliced her finger trying to wash dishes, and it was pretty serious cut.  My mom went to find some stuff to clean it up, and while she was doing that, my sister passed out and fell out of the chair, hitting her head.

They went to the ER to have her checked out and get the cut cleaned, and everything came back normal.

Well, she went to school yesterday only to realize that she didn’t know a couple of the people that were coming up to her and talking to her.  Yes, my friends, she is experiencing memory loss.

I just talked to my mom, who says the long term memory loss is increasing, and she is now having pain in her neck.  She will be calling my sister’s doctor tomorrow.

My family means everything to me, so this is completely devastating to me.  She is only 15 years old.  At this point she doesn’t remember our dad (who was a big part of the first half of her life).

Cydney, Me, and Amanda. Sisters

You can find more WW at 5 Minutes for Mom, My Organized Chaos, Mrs. Cox Slice of Heaven, and WW home !!

First grade doesn’t seem like a good time to lose one of your favorite people in the whole wide world.  When you think about when you were seven years old – oh who am I kidding… Can you remember when you were seven years old?  First grade.  On the playground, causing mischief, mayhem, or sitting on the swings alone?  Did you have friends that surrounded you, giggling, pointing at the boy or girl who never fit in?  Were you that boy or girl that never fit in and not so secretly wished you did?

Some people can look back on first grade and remember having the most amazing teacher.  Mrs. Shoff.  She was a true sweetheart.  Since she was my teacher, my mom always hoped my siblings would have her for a teacher.  No such luck.

When I look back on 1^st grade, my friends and teacher are not what stands out in my mind.  The loss of one of my favorite people in the world is what I remember.

Uncle Craig was my favorite uncle.  From top to bottom he was great.  Fun, caring, loving, and he played video games with me.  Most of my memories of him are from pictures.  Stories.  They don’t come from the mind of which I write.  Although, not many of my memories do.

What I do remember is that day.  So many years ago.

“Where’s Mommy?” I asked my father one evening.  His response was a simple “I don’t know” which was a bull-faced lie.  Something was wrong, and I could sense it.  Everything about the day thus far felt weird, wrong, and different.  At the time I didn’t realize that I knew more subconsciously than I actually knew, but I did.

It was May.  School was winding down for the year, and soon we would all be able to enjoy the simple pleasures of summer.  It was a warm evening.  The back door was open and the frogs croaked beneath the clear sky spotted with stars.  A slight breeze floating in to the living room, and the sweet smell of another day passed filled my lungs.

Mom came in after dark.  I was still awake, and her eyes normally filled so full of love told me that something was wrong.  Concerned, I asked her what was wrong.  She could barely speak as the tears filled her eyes.  I sat there on her lap as the tears rolled down her cheeks.  It was obvious she was trying to figure out the best way of going about telling me the news she was keeping in.  There is no doubt in my mind she would have rather kept it to herself.

She told me there was a terrible accident.  Driving home from a bar.  People following my Uncle.  Maybe a fight.  He could have been fleeing from them.  A tree.  They fled the scene.  Left him.  A neighbor called 911.  It was too late.  He was gone.

Just like that I experienced Death.  The cruelest form.  Having someone ripped from your life with no notice – no chance to say good bye.  A horrible accident.  It could have been prevented.

I cried.

He was the middle child.  My Mom’s big brother.  My Gram’s second son.

And in an instant, he was gone.

The emptiness that filled my seven year old heart was a cruel introduction to the world of life and death.  It was also the horrific ending to my First Grade experience.  A memory forever embedded into my memory and one (of the few) that will never be forgotten.

I love you Uncle Craig.  May you forever Rest In Peace.

Me, at about 3 years old

That was the line my mom started off our conversation with earlier this summer.  She was begging me to go get a pedicure with her that day, but when we got to our favorite place to have them done, they were closed.  It was a Sunday.  Neither of us had realized they may close early.  So in the parking lot, she told me there was something we needed to talk about.

Oh god, what did I do this time, I thought desperately to myself.  I mean really, your mom says that you need to talk… Isn’t that the first thing that pops into your head, too? No?  Well, okay.  Palms sweaty, heart racing, and knees weak, I waited for her to speak

To make this long conversation short, when I was about 3 years old, my mom had another baby.  A little girl, who she gave up for adoption because at the time, my “father” (I use that term lightly, when in fact he is now more of a Sperm Donor to me) and my Mother were in an on again, off again sort of relationship.  For whatever reason, my parents decided it would be best to give the baby (my 100% biological sister) to a family that could give her the best in life.  To give her everything she would need, and more.

Now, at first I thought this whole thing was a sick joke.  I mean, all my life I had fantasized, or played make believe that somewhere I had a long lost sister or brother.  Someone who was separated from our family at birth, that would some day walk back into our lives.  Maybe it’s normal, or maybe in my sub-conscious mind I really did remember my mom being pregnant and having another baby.

Alas, mom told me that my sister had contacted her on Facebook.  That she wanted to meet her – meet us.  Meet the family that she had that she never got to be a part of.

This was sooo exciting and so scary at the same time!

After running it by my mom and getting her okay, I friend-ed my sister on Facebook.  I didn’t think she looked much like me at first.  I look more like my father.  My sister, on the other hand, has more of my mom’s dominant features.  Either way, we started messaging each other and really seemed to just hit it off.  We talked about this and about that, and I came to realize that she sooooooo fits into our family, in more than one way!

Up to this point, we have met, and hung out a few times.  She only lives a couple hours from us, which is the best part about it!  We can literally drive to one another or meet in the middle for a day trip to hang out.

I am also an AUNTIE but I will leave that update for another post.

Me (ew), Cydney, Mom, William, Dalton, and Amanda!

Wow.  Hello!!  Welcome to my itsy bitsy teeny tiny bit of the web’o’sphere.  Please, don’t mind my scatter brain, I swear it’s normal.  I’m a tad flustered as this is my first ever large blog party.  Well, that’s what it is anyways, right?

Also, don’t mind the mess that is currently my blog.  The layout is not ideal, but we are working through it. 

My name is Alex.  Short for Alexandra, but after 18 years of my mom insisting that my name is Alexandra, and not Alex, I had to rebel. 

Mommy of 4 year old Konnor, always and forever my baby, and 10 month old Ariana, the baby girl I have always dreamed of having.  My children are hands down my life and the reason for my being.  To most of you, it will come as no surprise for me to tell you I would give the world for my babies.  They are my rocks, whether they know it or not. 

Working full time as a customer service representative at the local electric company is my day job.  A repetitive job that is not nearly as rewarding and fulfilling as I would like a job to be, it pays the bills.  That’s all I have to say about that.

Writing has always come natural to me.  I can change my style from serious to funny, laid back to professional, and anything in between without much thought at all.  

Blogging/writing since I was in middle school, I have owned 3 diaries, one online diary, 4 blogs, and one online journal.  The random short stories and no less than one dozen unfinished plays and auto-biographies sit buried in all of the above places listed.  At the moment I am in the process of compiling all my thoughts and life snip-its into one big book.  A story of my own life, which I refuse to call an auto-biography (I just despise the term).

If I’m not playing mommy, working, or writing, I am most definitely taking pictures.  Photography is a passion that falls dead even with my passion for writing.  On a bad day I take no less than 20 photographs of anything and everything that inspires me.  Some say I have a knack for the hobby and should go pro, but a hobby (to me) is more fulfilling than a job.

Living with my kiddos and my boyfriend, Justin, in our apartment in Oregon couldn’t be more amazing.  Well, a house would be more amazing, but that’s a different story.  The Pacific Northwest is known for its beauty, but you can never really understand that beauty unless you live here.  Who wouldn’t want to live an hour from the mountain and two hours from the ocean?

Well, I think you are probably tired of listening to me, so go and find some other fabulous bloggers who are participating in the 2010 Ultimate Blog Party.

Want more of me?  Or, I suppose, in a sense, it’s less of me.  I live my life 140 characters at a time on Twitter.  You can follow me @theJAKAmommy but I’m warning you now, I am not all peaches & cream.  My life is not perfect, nor am I.  I can be rude, harsh, and my filtration is not always top notch.

By the way, I’m not entering to win any prizes.  :)  But good luck to all those that are!  Happy blogging!

I am also proud of where I live.

I was born in Portland, Oregon.

I was raised in Portland, Oregon.

My mom was born and raised in Portland, Oregon.

As my children grow and learn, I want them to appreciate the finer things this state has to offer. Beach trips are frequent, and while the water isn’t as warm as Cali or Florida, the sweet simplicity of the waves crashing are enough to appreciate.