When I was growing up, living at home with my parents, I was told that Father's Day was just as important and just as special as Mother's Day, my birthday, etc. When I was very young, I took to the teachings of my family very well. But as I got older, I had to work hard to get in the spirit of Father's Day. I knew it was a day set aside to honor, love, and appreciate my father, just as Mother's Day is a day to honor, love, and appreciate your mother. What I was told I should feel and what I should express on Father's Day never came naturally. Many years, I found myself doing nothing but writing complete bullshit in greeting cards and kissing my dad's ass so he would enjoy "his day". I know that sounds terrible, but it's true.
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For a little over 20 years, I spent Father's Day trying my hardest to celebrate a man who is responsible for my existance but never successfully convinced me he was happy about my existance. He did clothe me, feed me, provided a roof over my head, and made sure I had the basics. I am very thankful for those things...many kids do not have the basics. But in so many ways, I lacked. I longed for something, but I couldn't ever put my finger on exactly what it was. Over the years, the answers have come to me.
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My dad was "removed" - or maybe "absent by choice" is a better way to put it. The truth is that it seemed he'd rather be with anyone, doing anything rather than being with his family. I can remember him calling friend after friend after friend late at night or on the weekend looking for someone to hang out with. He wanted to be immature with his friends - do drugs and jam to 60s music. My mom and I were boring...and he thought we'd always be there.
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I was and still am confused by my father. He is such a troubled person who I never expect to find his way. Because of the way he chooses to live his life, he and I have not talked since last September. As of now, I feel very good about my decision. I do not want my father to be a part of mine or my family's life. He isn't someone I can trust. I hear things about my father - what he's doing, things he's said, etc. I must say that I am often shocked at first but end up asking myself why I am surprised. I guess that even though I know he isn't going to change, I kinda wish he would. It isn't so much for my sake - it's for his. I hate to see anyone throw away their life the way my father has. It is sad. Actually, I think it is defying of your creator to be such a disgrace. Obviously, he doesn't see it that way. He claims to love his life and enjoy endless benefits from his daily choices.
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Father's Day is this weekend. As I picked out a card for Ray and my grandfather, I did think about my father. Actually, I think about him quite a bit. But I never considered buying him a Father's Day because I am "supposed to". I have no desire to speak to him - not even through writing in the most generic Father's Day card on the shelf. I have nothing to say. I'm so tired of saying the same things over and over. For so many years, I was like a broken record. He may have heard me, but he never listened. I wonder if he will ever regret that. It would do my heart good to know he will at least once - even if it is on his death bed.
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My father is such a hurtful person. Well, correction: He WAS such a hurtful person. He isn't anymore because I don't give him the opportunity to be. This Father's Day will be about Ray, my wonderful husband and the father of my two children. But once again, I plan to make a special effort to celebrate my father, the man I know exists but so rarely showed himself. I'll go in my small file of memories I have stored away and pull one out. I will do my best to relive that moment. I will try to connect and spend time with that man I've only met once or twice. When the daydream is over, I know it will be hard to say goodbye. But it has to happen because that guy wasn't meant to be a fixture in my life. He's kinda like Frosty the Snowman but so much less familiar. When Frosty goes away, he promises to return one day. My dad never made any promises. Sometimes I wonder if he even realized what form he was in.
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So many relate barbequing, golfing, fishing, tools, or football games with their dads. Unfortunately, it isn't that simple for me. To smoke out all the bad memories and sad feelings I have, I need some music. Beatles please. After all, I am my father's daughter.
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Oh, if you ever see my dad, please tell him that I hate him. Also, please tell him I love him.
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Tonight, I am desperately searching for the peace that I seem to have temporarily misplaced.
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Tomorrow, I will be together again.
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Good night.
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Father's Day is approaching...
A new venture
.Ray and I have been talking about how weird it is that we’ve broken so many things since we’ve moved in our new house. First, it was a vase. Ray gave me that vase, but he had to remind me of that. In other words, while it was pretty, it wasn’t sentimental to me.
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A few weeks ago, I pulled out my perfume that I love but don’t wear very often. I’m just not one to wear perfume every day. That isn’t me. I wear it on special occasions. And since I don’t use it often, I don’t ever get tired of the scent and consider changing it. When Ray bought it for me several years ago, it became MY scent. I loved it from first sniff. ;) Also, because it doesn’t get used often, it has lasted me a long time. I still had a LOT left in the bottle when I dropped it.
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Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those times where it falls, bounces, and miraculously doesn’t break. It fell. It crashed. It shattered into 1,001 pieces. What a deal. The good news is that I did not get cut. The bad news is that I had a HUGE mess to clean up. Even worse, I smelled like one of those women that cause me to gasp and let a curse word or two fly when they pass me in the grocery store. YUCK! Since it was such a big mess, it took a while. To avoid Grayson from crawling into the bathroom (where I dropped the perfume bottle), I had to close the door. Can you say “Eternity by Calvin Klein Summer Limited Edition high”? It was bad. After I cleaned the floor and picked up all the glass I could find, Ray turned on the vent. It was so smelly that we decided to go take Grayson for a ride in his wagon around the neighborhood. Throughout our walk, Ray was teasing me about how I smelled. I did stink. I felt like I had bathed in that potion. After that day, I don’t know how I still like that scent, but I do. As a matter of fact, I am looking forward to getting it replaced.
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But last night, something did get broken that was quite sentimental to me. It was a coffee mug Ray got me. I’ve had it for 2 ½ years or so. It was a surprise/“I thought of you” gift. It was the perfect mug. It was the perfect size, was colorful, and had my kind of art on it. For the longest time, I wouldn’t even use it because I was afraid I would break it. Ray was always on me about it sitting there – so much so that I started using it. And until it got broken, it was the ONLY mug I would use to drink hot chocolate in. I wasn’t there to see it happen (I’m glad), but from what I understand, Grayson just grabbed it off the counter and dropped it. I am not mad at Grayson. He didn’t mean to break it. He was just being his curious self. Besides, the crash actually scared him quite a bit. I am not mad at Ray either. No matter how closely you watch Grayson, it is almost impossible to prevent him from grabbing (and dropping or throwing) something. He is very determined. No wait, VERY determined. Wait – VERY VERY VERY determined. Yeah, that’s our boy. As I said, I wasn’t there to see it happen. I was upstairs. I just heard the crash and Grayson crying. My first question was if he and Gray were okay. With hesitation, Ray said, “ye-ah”. Of course, I flew down the stairs. First, I see tears streaming down Grayson’s face and Ray comforting him. Then, Ray looks up at me with this worried look on his face. He said, “A mug broke”. I didn’t think anything of it. I got the hand broom and knelt down to pick up the mess. At that moment I realized what mug it was…I said, “Oh, it was my mug.” Ray turned my way and said, “I’m sorry”.
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Someone might say, “It was a coffee mug. A coffee mug is just a thing”. And they would be right. And I’m not a materialistic person. So, things usually don’t mean much to me. I’m more of the sentimental type. But this “thing” just had big time sentimental value. It might sound weird, but I had a hard time gathering the pieces of my mug that were spread out all over our kitchen floor. Do you know how it feels when you want to cry and maybe you are crying inside but you are trying like the devil to suppress it? That was me last night. I kept telling myself to be rational. I will always remember Ray giving it to me. I enjoyed it for several years. The person who gave it to me is still in my life. Still, I felt very sad. That mug had special meaning to me. A coffee mug you might ask…yes, a coffee mug. Later on, Ray asked me if I was mad. I told him I was not mad – just sad. He said, “I’ll get you another one just like it, and we’ll pretend it never got broken”. That was so sweet of him. But the little kid in me said, “No, I don’t want another one.”
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When I was getting ready for bed last night, I thought about all the times in my life that I’ve lost or broken something I treasured so much. As a kid, there were many instances. But as an adult, there are very few. One happened a few years ago.
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Ray and I put the dogs in their kennels and left for the store. When we got home, Mya was loose in the house. Bad news. Mya is a very shy, sweet dog. But when left alone, she is destructive. We keep telling her she should see about going to a counselor. ;) Anyway, she was loose – and there was stuff torn up. There were strips of paper and such. As I was picking up the pieces all over the house, I realized one of the things she tore up was a picture I had sitting on our bookshelf. It wasn’t just any picture either. It was the one and only photo of me and my dad when I was a few weeks old. I LOVE this picture. It is the original and the only copy that exists. Needless to say, I have many, many pictures with my dad through the years. But this one was taken when my dad and I had a clean slate with each other. The only thing I knew at that point was that he was my dad. I have no way of knowing for sure, but I assume I felt so genuinely loved and safe in his arms. I treasured that picture so much because if that was how he made me feel, that was the only time I ever felt that way. I don’t remember it at all, but at least I had a picture of it…until MYA tore it to pieces. It was stripped – and soaked with saliva. I was SO mad. Through tears, I yelled at her so loud that I’m positive everyone on the street heard me. It wasn’t really that I wanted to kill her. She is just a dog that was having a party when her parents left her in the house unattended. All I wanted was to have my picture back. Ray tried hard to put it back together using Photoshop. He did a good job considering the condition the pieces were in, but it looked nothing like it did.
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When I was SO mad at Mya, I think I yelled “I hate you!” over and over. Again, that is something a kid would say. In many ways, I’m kinda still like a kid. I am especially that way when I am sad or get my feelings hurt. I can be really tough sometimes, but sometimes, I am very sensitive.
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As we were packing up to move a month or so ago, Ray mentioned again how funny it is that I keep so many things. When he first met me, I think it boggled his mind and maybe annoyed him. He still might not fully understand it, but he respects it. I really appreciate that. I don’t know how to explain my connection to some of my keepsakes. They just exist. And it isn’t just with the appearance of an object. It is how the fur on my 4 ft tall rabbit named Clarence feels in my hand. It makes me think of the nights alone in my room when he made me feel safe. It is how a Beatles tune awakens wonderful memories of me laughing at my father singing, dancing, and playing imaginary instruments. It is how the dinging of my Granny’s clock (that now sits on my mantle) brings me back to the many, many times she and I would sit in her living room talking and enjoying a glass of iced tea.
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I am not one of those folks that live in the past. And I’m not one to only talk and plan for the future either. I do a good job of living in the now. But I don’t ever want to forget my past. There is bad to be learned from and good to savor. Cherish is the key word here. Cherish where you’ve been and where you are…and without a doubt, you must let your good memories of the past and the happiness you feel today fuel your excitement about what’s to come.
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My life is good. I hope your is too.
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cause/effect
Isn't it funny how things can be going so great one minute and go to hell the next?
Besides being exhausted from our move, I have been feeling pretty darn good. Life is good. There are small disturbances here and there, but usually, it doesn't take me long to get back to where I was.
What completely derails me are big interruptions to my life like my father. I am in my new home with my husband and little boy. I just want to be left alone. I must say that I have come a LONG way regarding how I deal with my father. Years ago, things he said and did enraged me. I was so mad I know I could've punched a window in. Now, he still angers me, but it no longer affects me that way. I know it is because I have way to much happiness and good in my life to allow him to ruin it. I wish I could say he doesn't have any effect on me. But I can't because I'd be lying through my teeth.
Today, my father called my cell phone 3 times and left very rude voicemails each time. Part of me was angry. It was fueled by the fact that he is calling me when I asked him not to - and not just once but three times! That, my friend, is what you call DISRESPECT. He doesn't respect me as a person. That is one of the many reasons why he and I don't have a relationship.
Anyway, as I was saying, his messages made me angry. But what he had to say - and especially HOW he said it, disappointed me. Things he says and things he does are not something anyone would ever/should ever expect from their parent. And as much as I hate to admit it, he really hurts my feelings too. He shouldn't talk to anyone that way, especially his own daughter.
I am here wading through all the emotions my father stirred up today. All afternoon, my father's messages have been on my mind. But I couldn't miss the opportunity to enjoy every minute I could with Gray. So, I waited until now to sort through it all. I need to do this so I can maybe get some much needed sleep.
Conclusion: My father is powerful...not because he's this strong, almighty person. He's actually weak and insecure. That is the reason why he is so harmful to others. I have NO idea why, but I still can't believe he can be so hurtful. He must feel good about it because he does it again and again and again. He might think he is controlling this situation, "letting me know who is boss", or getting the final word, but he isn't. What he's doing is affirming my decision to not have a relationship with him with each and every mean message he leaves me.
I love quotes. They speak volumes in just a sentence or two and in some cases, a few words. I ran across one that sums up what I've said to my father time and time again...
What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
As I wrap up this blog entry, I find myself thinking like many others at the end of a long, hard, or draining day. It is a stupid wish I guess. It is one little girls make. I know it won't ever happen, but I feel I need to keep wishing for it. Wishes aren't granted to those who don't close every day with the same wish backed by the same amount of hope, right?
Here we go: I wish I would wake up tomorrow and have a normal dad - one that is loving, caring, thoughtful, trustworthy, genuine, mature, level-headed, respectful, and finally ready to take this whole "Dad" thing seriously.
in the spirit of Easter
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Anyway, I must credit my mom and my Granny for my love of holidays. They always talked to me about holidays weeks (and sometimes months) ahead, asked what I ideas I had for celebrating (crafts, recipes, etc), and continued to talk to me about that special day until it came. Celebrating holidays, whether big or small, is fun. You always have something to look forward to. I was taught that I didn’t have to be Irish to celebrate St Patrick’s Day, I didn’t have to be “in love” to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and I didn’t have to believe the groundhog’s prediction to celebrate Groundhog Day. I guess you could say my mom and my Granny also taught me it doesn’t have to be a holiday to celebrate or do something special. It could be that the Parish Fair was coming soon. My Granny and I loved talking about everything from how much fun we had the year before to what fun we were going to have that year. Or it could be the first day of school. My mom used to wake me up on the first morning of every school year singing, “School days, school days, dear old golden rule days, Readin' and writin' and 'rithmetic, Taught to the tune of a hickory stick…”
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I guess I strayed away from my original topic, but the point I want to convey is that holidays have always been and will always be very special to me. I hope Grayson learns this from me and incorporates it into his life – from babyhood to boyhood and then to manhood.
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Our move has helped me run across things I hadn’t seen in years, particularly pictures. I absolutely LOVE pictures. I love looking at them, and of course, I love taking them. Well, just today, I ran across some Easter pictures of me. They brought back such good memories. There is a good chance I’ve posted some of these before. If so, oh well.
My 2nd Easter.
(I still had dark hair at this point)
Me in another Easter dress my Granny made for me..
I do remember posting this picture before.
going home
We moved last weekend. Really, it wasn’t that bad but being surrounded by boxes is kinda overwhelming at times. Grayson has adjusted well. He hasn’t been as willing as usual to nap during the day, but I think that is because he just wants to be awake so he can explore. The dogs, on the other hand, didn’t do such a good job adjusting. Well, that’s what Ray and I would say all the nights we were awakened by whining, yelping, or barking. To them, our new home is a strange place. And it seems that if the house got quiet, they were alone. Of course, that was not the case. We were in other rooms trying to get some much needed sleep. But fortunately, they have done awesome the last few nights. Ray and I have slept like rocks. The 8+ hours of sleep we’ve been getting each night has been great. Our hope is to wake one day soon and feel fully charged. We are not there yet. We feel more rested than we have in a week or so but are still in need more zzz’s.
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As if packing, moving, and closing on our house wasn’t stressful enough, I’ve had some things going on with my family back home. First and foremost, my grandmother, my dad’s mother, died. Everyone was expecting it. She had been battling Parkinson’s disease and was in hospice care for a while. The way her life expectancy kept getting shortened was a little surprising for everyone. A few months ago, my Paw told me the head nurse who came to evaluate her every week said she would most likely not live past this year. Next, I heard she said she would be surprised if she made it to summer. Then, last Friday, the nurse said she probably wouldn’t live till Monday. And she didn’t. She died in the last few minutes of Sunday night. I think she was in “that place” (wanting to die) since Friday. She was just waiting for all of her children to get there. About an hour after my uncle from Houston arrived, she let go. My grandfather sounded so proud as he told me that she didn’t fight it.
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Needless to say, my grandfather is having a hard time dealing. I can only imagine what it is like to lose your spouse of nearly 60 years. The person you fell in love with, chose to spend your life with, had children with, spent birthdays and holidays with, took vacations with, etc is here one day and then gone the next. That is nothing short of DEVISTATING. Personally, I wasn’t that close to my grandmother. So her not being here anymore isn’t really difficult for me. I did care about her, and I guess I would say I loved her. I definitely have some good memories of her from when I was 4 or 5 years old. But as I got older, in her eyes, I wasn’t as cute/pretty and simply put, I did not become the lady she hoped I would. She judged me very harshly – from the big mistakes I made to the small ones. Heck, it wasn’t just about the mistakes I made. She was very judgmental about how I chose to live my life. But when it comes down to it, it was only a difference of opinion. I am different, my own person. I was a disappointment to her. Just like my father, at one point, she tried to blame ME for my parents’ divorce. Anyway, with all that being said, I will say that I am happy she is gone. My grandfather is suffering right now, and that makes my heart ache. She is finally free of her pain. That fact alone gives my family and I such a peaceful feeling. Since she passed only days ago, my Paw is still at the stage where he wonders how he’ll go on. I completely understand why he feels that way, but I’m really hoping time heals his pain. As I’ve told him, we need him here with us. I’m confident that my Granny (his mom) and my grandmother (his wife) will be looking forward to seeing him when his time comes, neither one of them would want him to rush to get there. Well, that is what I tell him anyway. I have no doubt that is how my Granny feels. My grandmother, on the other hand, is a different story. Unless she changed her ways between Earth and wherever she was headed, I’m pretty sure she does want him with her – NOW. In the last 2 or 3 years of her life, my grandmother showed just how selfish she was. She was so demanding and seemed to think nothing of depriving him of his hobbies, his family, his friends, sleep, and his sanity. But she got what she wanted. He nearly killed himself (literally) caring for her round the clock.
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When Ray and I were told how bad off she was, we decided to make plans to head back home. Because we were in the middle of packing (and on the verge of closing our house), Ray had a lot going on at work, and a last minute trip is very costly, we had to schedule it a few weeks out. I didn’t think we would make it before she died, but at least we tried our best. Even though she has passed, we still see great value in us going home. Number one, I need and want to see my grandfather so bad. And I know a visit from Ray, Grayson, and I will really lift his spirits. Second, we look forward to seeing my aunt, her family, Ray’s mom and stepdad, etc. It will be great! It is a long overdue trip. It will be quicker than I would like. Three days is not long enough, but it is surely better than nothing. It will be far from a “vacation”, but it will be an enjoyable trip. Everyone is so excited to see Grayson, and we couldn’t be more excited about showing him off!
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The only unpleasant thing about our trip I foresaw was dealing with my father. It isn’t anything I can’t handle. It is something I’d just rather not do. Everyone knew we were coming in town except for him. I didn’t tell him because he and I don’t talk. And everyone else chose not to tell him. So, when he overheard my cousin saying something about it, he flipped his lid. He spouted off that he’s the last to know, etc. etc. As you can imagine, my cousin felt terrible that she let it slip. I told her it is okay. After all, I expected him to find out sooner or later. What I didn’t expect was his response to the news. I had already told my grandfather and my aunt that I could handle my father and that I had no intention of showing my ass. I came there to visit and enjoy everyone – not sling shit back and forth with my father. Honestly, my plan was to smile, say hello, and go on as usual. I wasn’t even considering talking to him in depth about our relationship if he asked me to. I have nothing new to tell him. How I’m feeling now (about him and us) is exactly what I told to him when we stopped talking six or seven months ago. There is no need to waste my breath saying it all again. Besides, I know he doesn’t want to hear me declare my feelings again like a broken record. Rather than working on improving himself and the state of our relationship, his goal is to get me to lower my standards and accept him for who he is. I can run through my neighborhood naked. And after some training, I could probably climb a mountain. But one thing I cannot do is accept my father for the person he is. It isn’t that I don’t like his style or the mood he was in on this one particular day. I cannot stand the person he is. It isn’t even about the person he was, the man who caused me so much personal damage. I forgave him for the past several years ago. The reason for the demise of our relationship is the person he is now. Needless to say, the person he is now is similar to the person he was. But in some ways, believe it or not, the person he is now is much worse than the person he was then. No matter how many times it is preached to me, the whole “blood is thicker than water thing” is not something I can practice. It goes against who I am and everything I believe. My big declaration regarding my father is: Despite how hard he tries to convince himself and others that I am the reason we don’t have a relationship, it is HIM that is making a daily choice not to make the necessary changes to improve his life and salvage what is left of he and I. Believe it or not, rather than his mother’s death helping him see the light, it seems to have made him more bitter.
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Over the last few months, my dad has sent me two letters. They weren’t even full of empty promises. They were full of nothing other than B.S. You’d have to read them to fully understand. The only part that was general and clear was him asking me to accept him for who he is rather than waiting for him to become the person I want/need him to be. The rest of it was what I call “head in the clouds” talk. His word choice and how he compiled his sentences was so dramatic and almost comical. I don’t agree with how he does things. His style and mine are completely different. But one thing I couldn’t deny is that he was trying – well, half ass trying. Okay, maybe he wasn’t trying…he was making an attempt. That says something – not very much but something.
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But his effort flew out the window yesterday when my aunt called to tell me that my dad declared he isn’t coming to my grandfather’s house to visit next weekend. He said since I didn’t tell him we were coming and my grandfather didn’t invite him, he is NOT coming. The thing is NO ONE got “invited” to my grandfather’s house. My aunt and uncle just heard we were coming, and it was kinda understood that we’d get together and visit. My grandfather’s house has been our meeting place for many years. Anyway, my father proceeded to tell my aunt that he has “gotten used to how things are” between he and I. I cannot express how pissed off I am that he called my aunt to tell her these things. Already, a week before we are due to be there, he is playing games. He will stop at nothing to make himself look like the victim. When it comes down to it, visiting with my family will be much easier if he isn’t there. But I had no qualms about him being there. He is part of our family. I just didn’t want to have much, if anything, to do with him. My aunt says she wouldn’t be at all surprised though if he changes his mind. He’s very different from one minute to the next. She knows this. He claims to be at peace now with my decision (not to talk to him), but in a few days (or less), he decide that he not only cares but that he’s enraged by me coming and not letting him know. He might very well decide that not coming to my grandfather’s would be too easy on me and exactly what I would want. Therefore, he’ll not only come but make a scene. My father is unpredictable. He always has been. I wouldn’t say he ever really surprises me because I know him very well. But I must admit that he continually takes me off guard. He always goes where I never thought he would. When it comes down to it, when he convinces himself he’s been wronged, he’ll do anything and everything to make people around him uncomfortable. As long as he’s feeling good, that is all that matters. I guess that makes his life enjoyable (or he thinks it does), but in the long run, living like that will come back and bite you on the ass. But ya know, my dad doesn’t think about that because he is the type that lives from one minute to the next.
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So, in conclusion, as I go back home for the first time in nearly a year with my husband and beautiful son, I am very excited and a bit nervous. This world is a scary place filled with lots of scary people. It is just sad when one of the people who scares you most is your own father.
me and him, a story.
There she was - sitting in the corner as she always did. She was waiting for him. She had changed in looks quite a bit over the years, but inside she was the same person she’d always been. She was passionate. She was determined. She knew what she wanted from life. One of her dreams was to share her life with him. Until he became ready, she declared she would wait patiently. Finally, he came to her with a big smile and a proposal. He stood behind her and said all the things he thought she wanted to hear. He was so wrapped up in his speech that it was obvious he was doing it for himself rather than her. He felt it was something he owed her. It didn’t matter that so much time had passed. Better late than never, right? Finally, he stopped talking. He was offering to grant her lifelong wish, and all she had to do was say “yes”. There was silence. The world seemed to stand still. He looked her way only discover that she wasn’t there. The fact is that she hadn’t been there in years. What they had for all those years was simply a figment of his imagination. She still exists in our world but not in his. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Translation: A few months ago, I told my father I didn’t want him in mine and my family’s lives anymore. If you are struggling to understand why, don’t. I could start compiling a list of reasons today, and it would be left incomplete on my dying day. Anyway, I made a decision. It wasn’t a “this is how I feel today and we’ll see how it goes” decision. It was a LIFE decision. I did and still feel good about it. However, I still expected my father to apologize and attempt change - to give me something to consider. When I had given up, his proposal arrived. It was on a plain white sheet of paper, folded up inside a Christmas card. With all his forms of expression (odd wording and BIG letters), it was obvious he put a lot of thought into this letter. When it was complete, I bet he smiled, slapped a stamp on it, walked it to the mailbox and proudly lifted the flag. But I don’t think he was expecting it to lose strength on its couple hundred mile journey. Instead of being forceful and intimidating as it was intended to be, it was weak and flat. I think he hoped to trick me into believing he was trying to speak to my heart. He didn’t fool me though. His intention was to induce silence, to back me in a corner, and cause me to melt to the floor. Instead, I walked around freely as I read it and actually found his empty business proposal humorous. He didn’t say he was sorry for what he’s done to me all these years and didn't tell me he wants to make changes. What he did was ask me to accept him for who he is just as I did for years and years. The truth is that I wasn’t even there. I exist in mine and your world but not in his. What he is trying to save is a figment of his imagination.
King WHAT?!?!?!
A few evenings ago, we got out for groceries. Since Grayson wasn’t feeling that great, we decided to go to Tom Thumb. It is our favorite store that’s near our house. I carried the diaper bag, and Ray toted Grayson. As we were walking from the car to the store, I was struggling. In addition to the diaper bag, I was trying to put up my keys, hold on to the list, keep my purse straps on my shoulder, and help Ray wrap a blanket around Gray. Somehow we managed to figure everything out in ten steps or so. When I looked up, I saw a banner that said King C??? Sale. The cold wind popped the banner continually and caused it to kinda fold in the middle. I couldn’t read the dang thing! I said, “OH MY GOD!!!!!! Ray, what does that banner say?!?!?!” Taken off guard, he said, “Wha? What banner?” I pointed and said, “That banner right there!!!!” He said, “What banner, Tish?!” I said, “The big white one in front of the store!!! It’s right there – almost in front of us!” About that time, the wind died down and I saw what it said – KING CRAB SALE! I said, “Aw shit!” Totally confused, Ray said, “What?” I said, “King CRAB sale…who cares about a stupid King CRAB sale?!?!” He gave me a weird look. I laughed and said, “I thought it said, “King CAKE Sale!!!!!!” He laughed too and said, “Why would there be a King CAKE sale in the middle of October?!” I said, “I don’t know! I didn’t think of that. I just saw King something and assumed it was King CAKE. Who gives a crap about King Crabs?!” Boy oh boy! Yeah, that was one of the many times I had to laugh at myself!!!! I absolutely LOVE King Cake! It’s my favorite cake! I can eat it for breakfast, for a snack, for dessert – heck, I wouldn’t complain if I were served King Cake for lunch or supper! ;) Baum’s King Cake is so good!!! But you know who makes the best damn King Cake?! ME! I’m not shittin' you! It was to die for!!! My Mom and Ray will tell you the same! :)
Just found out Mardi Gras is on February 5th next year! That's more than 3 months away - too long to wait for a King Cake! So, maybe I'll make one for Thanksgiving! :) Yeah, to hell with nerdy traditional desserts - Bring on the King Cake baby! And that will be the perfect fuel for Day After Thankgiving shopping! :)
What a difference a generation can make.
In so many ways, I am completely different from both of my parents – my entire family for that matter. I think this world tries so hard to tie you to your roots, to your family. There is so much talk about the genes, the personality traits, the physical features you inherit. Like so many, I was often told how I look like my dad and do this like my mom. That’s great and all, but I’m ME. And over the years, I’ve come to realize how important I am. I have officially given up on trying to improve everyone’s lives and hold my family together the way my great grandmother did for so many years. The fact is that she did it, and she did a damn good job. Maybe everyone listened to her because she had so much life experience. Maybe the timing was just right. Or maybe she just knew how to do it, and I don’t. Whatever the reason, I label the job as IMPOSSIBLE. Certain family members will always be selfish, thoughtless, uncaring, oversensitive, hurtful, etc. Since I cannot control them, the only thing I can do is not let myself get involved in their secrets, lies, denial, refusal to accept responsibility, expressions of hate, self-destruction, and finger pointing.
I was born with a sharp mind, a big heart, my own ideas, strong opinions, and an incredible durability. Well, I probably developed the durability along the way. It takes a lot of hard hits to become tough. I don’t mean the “I can talk the talk” tough. I mean the kind of toughness that makes you get up after being knocked on your ass time and time again. I’m sad to say that I’ve not only taken hard hits but that I’ve taken them from people who occupy the branches of my very own family tree.
A few weeks ago, I decided me and my family would be much better off without my father in our lives. I told him this in the simplest, most direct way possible and stated the reasons why once again. Instead of my decision lighting a fire under his ass, he chose to ignore me. He got wind of me having surgery and called to show concern. It was a nice gesture. For that reason and because the pain I was experiencing kept me from having the energy to fight him, I didn’t bitch at him for calling me. But now that some time has passed and my pain is almost gone, I am PISSED OFF. What he did was use my surgery/pain/recovery as a way to get to me. He saw an opportunity to serve himself yet again, despite what I needed or wanted.
In the last few days, Ray and I have talked about my father a good bit. What amazes me is that no subject gets me more keyed up than when I speak of my father. My heart races. My blood boils. Okay, so maybe “enraged” is a better way to describe how my dad makes me feel. Believe it or not, I’m not surprised my dad is still the same person I’ve known for nearly 30 years. Actually, let me rephrase that. He’s been the same person for almost 60 years, exactly 57 years to the date. Today, my dad celebrates his 57th birthday. I have no idea how he’ll celebrate or who he’ll celebrate with…and I try not to think about it. Whether he spends the day by himself doing absolutely nothing or with an acquaintance getting up to no good, I feel saddened. The truth is I want to hate my dad with every ounce of my being – and sometimes I think I just might be successful…after all, he’s easy to hate. But no matter how immature, irresponsible, cold, thoughtless, selfish, odd, and cruel he is, I still care about him. It just took me too long that I cannot let my feelings go beyond that. I cannot change him. I am not responsible for him. As I told him in my most recent letter, I am thankful to have experienced a connection with him even though it was only for a short time. I guess some people never have that with their parents. Well, realistically, some people don’t even know their parents. In many ways, I’m glad I know who my dad is. It gave me a good foundation for getting to know myself. Although, knowing him set me back a GREAT deal too. How I wish I could’ve been at the place where I am now several years ago. It took me so long to free myself of his teachings, his methods, his manipulation, his lies, and his excuses. Unfortunately, I just didn’t know how to feel secure living my life without him. That led to me not knowing how to fully enjoy all the good in my life. As the saying goes, hind sight is 20/20. Take it from someone how knows: putting limits on yourself and falling victim to someone else is no way to live.
I won’t pretend I am okay with how things are with my father because I’m not. To be frank, the situation sucks. But sing it with me: Nah, Nah, Nah, Nah - LIFE GOES ON. And as you can imagine, I have way to much HAPPY going on in my life to waste my time belly aching about the negative in my life (i.e., my father). Ray and I are doing great as partners and as parents. We have fun both with Grayson and without him, which is vital to a partnership being successful. And Grayson, well, what can I say?! He’s the cutest, smartest, happiest, most fun little boy in this entire world. He’s now 8 ½ months old. He’s the number one reason for all of our outings. We’re always going to Target for diapers and formula and to the outlet mall (or wherever) to buy him new clothing because he has outgrown what he has! Life is busy, but it is so wonderful. Oh and Gray is teething right now – BIG TIME! He has 3 teeth working on him. That means he’s growing fast! Despite how much pain I know he’s in and the fever he’s had for a few days (averaging about 101), he’s been in the best spirits. He’s a tough guy. Because he’s been feeling bad, he’s been kinda quiet and to himself. It hurts to see him that way. But no matter how bad he feels, he gives his dad, me, and his reflection smiles throughout the day. And when he’s feeling real rotten, we do little things he enjoys like tickling him, dancing with him, letting him run his fingers through his dad’s hair, running the lint roller across his chest, etc! :) The weather is finally getting cool in Dallas! We’re so excited! Grayson has already been taken on several afternoon strolls around the neighborhood. We all loved it! And of course, cooler weather means fall is really here. Fun holidays like Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are fast approaching! They will all be firsts for G this year! So, they’ll be extra special! As I’ve said from Day 1, Ray and I have been family since we married in 2001. But earlier this year, our family became something he and I couldn’t have made alone. Our boy, Grayson Koa, is the most magical wonderful little being who amazes us, teaches us, makes us smile continually, and enlarges and overflows our hearts with love. I look to the branch above me and see a mess, and then I look below me at a primo little being. I guess that kinda makes me a little of both huh? ;) I’m okay with that. :) It’s just such a daylight and dark difference from what’s above me to what’s below me on my family tree. What a difference a generation can make.
i struggle to make sense of it all...
Sometimes I write about fun topics on this blog. And sometimes I use it for the very reason why we keep it up and running – for venting. That is exactly what I’ll be doing in this entry. So, disclaimer: Read at your own risk. If you don’t like deep or personal writing, stop reading now.
If I would’ve done this blog entry a few weeks ago, I’m positive it would’ve been full of anger. But since I waited, I’ve been able to sort through some of my thoughts and not feel quite so ticked off. My feelings haven’t necessarily made a 360, but they have changed a great deal. I’m not a “poor me” type of person. I don’t seek sympathy from others. The point I’m trying to convey is simply “my situation sucks”.
This world is full of disappointing people. Everyone, no matter if they are a disappointment themselves, label other people as a disappointment. And who hasn’t had a coworker who wasn’t a disappointment? There are disappointments everywhere. I mean, look at our President. Think of famous people you know like Britney Spears. You just look at them and go “What the hell happened?” And another example: I hate seeing mothers threaten or beat their child. What a disappointment huh? What a disgrace to society, a lousy mother and worst of all, a complete failure to her child. Who hasn’t seen a nasty guy at a gas station walking around with some made up story about how he ran out of gas and needs some money? Besides being a disappointment, people like these are incomplete. They are missing some necessary component to properly fit in with society. I could go on and on with examples, but there’s no point. The list would be endless. While our President, Britney Spears, an abusive mother, a lowlife lazy guy are all disappointing, I can say one positive thing about them. I can be involved with them as much or as little as I want to. I guess that can apply to any disappointment you know, but it becomes much more difficult when you’re related to one.
My father, the disappointment who is half responsible for my existence, came to visit us a few weeks ago. I had high hopes that our visit would go well, especially since he started taking better care of himself earlier this year. But before he even arrived, I had bad feelings about his visit. If I could’ve told him not to come, I would’ve. It was too late. I just told myself no matter how unpleasant it might become, that I could hang with it for the 6 days he would be here. Well, it ended up being not only more difficult that I imagined but nearly impossible.
While he was in Dallas, I found myself feeling like I did when I was a teenager. My father just as annoying, unreasonable, inconsiderate, selfish, hurtful, inappropriate, offensive, (shall I go on?) as he was when I was living under his roof. I actually counted down until the day he left. I couldn’t wait to get back to my life.
Ideally, when you are parent, your job isn’t ever over. But needless to say, when your child is living with you and completely dependent on you, your job is more important than ever. The screwed up thing is that I’ve always been more responsible, grounded, and smart than my father. Don’t think he is a fun dad. He isn’t. He’s a stupid dad.
All 28 years of my life, I worked so hard to convince my father that his ways were slowly killing him. It was like talking to a brick wall. Finally, earlier this year, he seemed to be seeing the light – well, more than he ever had before. I was able to have a close to normal conversation with him for the first time in years. Without deciding to, I realized I was opening myself up to him. I had high hopes he had become the father I always needed and wanted him to be. I started feeling like I was finally being heard. I tried to be reserved about it on the outside, but on the inside, I was ecstatic!
Several of my childhood friends whose dad listened to the same “music” and had a very similar lifestyle as my dad are now fatherless. One girl who practically lived with us and was raised as my sister for years lost her father her first year of college. Like me, she begged…she pleaded. She tried educating him. She said it in every way possible…she spoke from her heart…she talked to him like a parent talks to their child. Nothing worked. He was told he would lose his life if he didn’t straighten up, and he did.
I declared that I could not be like my friend. I told myself I would do whatever it took to save my father. Ya know – that’s a nice thought, but it isn’t realistic. The fact is that I can help my dad, but I cannot save him. First, he must want to save himself…and that isn’t on his “to do” list. He wants to laugh off others’ concerns and say it’ll never happen to him. He lives as he wants to. He flies by the seat of his pants and does it with a big smile on his face while expelling a sickening laugh from deep inside. All the while, those who love him and care about him watch him fade away. Sometimes I ask myself if he was ever really that guy I needed and wanted. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe I got a glimpse of that guy, and I made him something bigger and better than he truly was – all in my head. I don’t know. I just know how he is now.
My dad is a very unique person. I guess a better word to describe him would be “odd”. I’m okay with that to a certain extent. After all, I’m odd in many ways – or unique. But one thing I’m not is disrespectful to others. I don’t think I’m any better than anyone else. I don’t feel anyone owes me anything. I do have strong opinions and speak my mind. However, I don’t intentionally hurt people. And damn it, if someone who loves me and cares for me tells me I am wrong, inappropriate, hurtful, or whatever, I will mull it over. Most likely, they are right at least to some degree. So anyway, I appreciate the ways my dad isn’t typical. I don’t want him to be “textbook”. He can be different. But I also need him to be basic. Unfortunately, basic he is not and probably won’t ever be.
What’s funny is that Ray has always believed the stories I’ve told him about my dad. But in the last few years, he’s seen and heard how he is for himself. Honestly, I think he was not only shocked but appalled. As for me, well, I’m extremely saddened to be hearing and seeing so many of the same things that I thought had gone away. And as I said before, I’m pretty angered by how my own father disrespects me as a person. He’s a disappointment. Despite what I was taught when growing up, blood isn’t necessarily thicker than water. And the title he holds (“Dad”) doesn’t protect him from being excluded from my life nor excuse him from respecting me as a person. And my title (“daughter”) doesn’t mean I have to accept his ways.
In mine, Ray’s and Grayson’s best interest, I made a decision – not to talk to my father for a while. It isn’t meant to be a punishment for him. I did it for me, Ray, and Grayson. I do not have the time or interest to convince my dad how damaging he is to himself and others. I am too busy and having too much fun to be dragged down by my father. I need some time away from him – no phone calls and no face to face. I don’t know how long it will be before I’m ready to give it a go again…or if I ever will. It took me 28 years to see and feel the extent of the damage he’s done to my life. Now that I’m an adult, have my own home and family, I declare it is OVER.
Sometimes I feel guilty for complaining about my father because I know so many have it worse. Some go visit their father in prison for goodness sake. I guess someone always has it worse than you. BUT I cannot deny that my situation sucks. It can be overwhelming and so frustrating.
And from time to time, I think about stupid things like, “What if my decision to keep away from my dad for a while turns him back toward his habits?” I know that isn’t something I should worry about. What he does is completely out of my control. The ball is in his court. I just want to have NO part in where he ends up – simply because I don’t think it will be a good place. I cannot tell how horrible it is to have to watch someone stumble time and time again until they fall the final time.
I’m sure there will be times Grayson doesn’t like me. But I think he’ll always love me…and I know I’ll always love him. He won't ever have to wonder how much our relationship and our friendship mean to me. I might tick him off, but I will never let him down the way my father has disappointed and failed me. That's for damn sure.
The Simpsons
Thanks to my mom, Ray and I are able to go on dates more often than most couples. We're so appreciative of her. Our date last weekend was to breakfast and to see The Simpsons Movie!
When I saw the previews, I knew I wanted to see it...but honestly, I didn't expect the movie to be that good. Besides, I have not watched the TV show in YEARS. I wondered if I'd know all that was going on.
Unlike most movies, they just chose not to show all the best parts in the previews/trailer. It was so nice to be completely surprised! Many times, I enjoy a trailer of a movie that is "coming soon" more than I do the actual movie I went to watch. Not this time! All the movies that are "coming to a theater near you" are about time travel, death, near death experiences, and just stupid s*** (i.e., Daddy Day Camp).
The Simpsons Movie was AWESOME! It was hilarious!!! We loved it! It was funny - so funny, a love story, and a drama! Of course, the voices of the characters are of people with such talent. But the writing was great...it was a brilliantly written movie! And I was so impressed at how well every single character was displayed. To be a cartoon, I couldn't believe how connected I felt with Bart, Lisa, Maggie, Homer, Maggie, and even the townspeople!
Have I gotten my point across?! We loved the movie! It was GREAT! And needless to say, its always great to have some alone time with Ray. But unfortunately, I was sandwiched between Ray and this single, middle aged guy with a trashy looking daughter (or who could've been his girlfriend I guess...EW, I'd rather not consider that possibility) who was just too close for comfort and who I think I felt breathing on me a few times. EW! Good thing the movie was so enjoyable! It kept my mind off the freak next to me. And it was one of those movies Ray and I talked about for a while after we left the theater!
So go see the dam movie! You'll be glad you did.
The Simpsons and ME! Garage Sale
As I mentioned before, we have been spending the last few weekends going through things we had stored in our shed. We got rid of so many things! We had a “keep” pile, a “trash” pile, and a “garage sale” pile. To my surprise, a LOT of stuff went in the “trash” pile. And in the end, the “keep” pile was the smallest one! We found both junk (we have no idea why we kept it) and treasures (keepsakes we put away and forgot we had). I found old greeting cards (I was sure to keep all the ones from my Granny), some old writings of mine, pictures, toys from my childhood, etc. Ray found old drawings of his, high school keepsakes (gotta love those wine glasses from Senior Prom!), origami that an old girlfriend of his made for him with her own two hands (Can I get an “Oh, how sweet!”???), etc. I’m just giving Ray a hard time! ;) We ran across stuff from my past too – old letters, tackle earrings (A guy I dated liked to fish. So, he bought me earrings made with artificial fish bait…go ahead and laugh – I did! Laugh because he gave them to me – not because I wore them because I never did!), and pictures (We found so many pictures that had Ray and I both laughing…but it was one a photo of this particular guy I dated that really cracked us up!).
Let’s call the guy I had in a bright gold picture frame “Jacob”. Knowing I dated Jacob years after I graduated from high school, Ray said, “Why do you have a high school picture of him?" I said, "That was the most recent photo he could find of himself." Ray said, "Did you ask for it, or did he give it to you?" I said, "I don't remember - I think he gave it to me. Why?" He said, "Did he expect you to carry it around in your wallet?" I said, "I don't know...I never did." He said, "What do you want to do with it?" I said, "Take the picture out, throw it away, and let's sell the frame in the garage sale". He had a funny look on his face. I said, "What? Well, just throw the whole thing away. I don't want it!" He smiled. I said, "What?!" He said, "Let's sell it in the garage sale - with his picture in it!" I said, "What?! You're a weirdo!" He said, "No! Let's see if anyone will buy the frame with his picture in it!" I couldn't help but laugh at my husband...he's so cool!
Anyway, that's what we did - put Jacob in our garage sale. I must admit that I hated seeing his face time and time again as I walked our carport throughout the morning. Ray and I kept joking about how no one wanted to take Jacob home with them. After a few hours of working our garage sale in the heat and humidity, we started marking stuff down so we can finish earlier rather than later. We were at a point where we just wanted to make whatever we could. And more important - we just wanted to get rid of everything! All that stuff had become "junk" that was doing us no good. Whatever didn't sell would be donated or thrown away. Stuff that was $1 became 50 cents or lower. Jacob was already marked 25 cents, and still, no one wanted him! Really wanting to get rid of him, I marked him down to 10 cents! When Ray noticed it, he cracked up! I said, "What?! Jacob's gotta go!"
Finally, someone came to our table to be run up - with Jacob's picture in hand. I was smiling the entire time I was calling out prices to Ray. The woman's total came to like $7.10 (or something like that). That was the total to the penny, but since we were trying to get rid of things and I didn't think I had 90 cents in change to give back, I told the woman $7 was fine. We had been rounding off to the lower dollar for people for an hour or so but because Jacob's picture was involved, Ray and I had smiles that couldn't be wiped off. That woman must have thought we were crazy! When she walked away, I said, "Well, we got rid of Jacob...but it took us giving him away!" Ray laughed his butt off...I did too! I can't help but wonder if that person went home and found another picture to put in that frame right away or if Jacob will sit on their shelf or in a drawer until they have time to replace him! ;)
And as I said, I ran across many toys and dolls from my childhood. I got rid of a lot of them. They were in bad shape or just not that significant. I would've loved to have kept several of the important ones but didn't because they were not in good shape. One of the many dolls I had and loved so much was named "Baby Jane". She is a plastic doll that stands about 3 feet tall. When you lifted her right arm, her right leg would step forward. When you lifted her left arm, her left leg would step forward. It might sound creepy...and I guess it kinda looked creepy, but I loved making her walk. I received her from my mom and dad (wait - correction: Santa Claus) when I was 4 or 5 years old. She came with black curly hair, a checkered blue and white shirt that was sewn to blue pants, and white shoes. Somewhere, I have a picture of her sitting under the Christmas tree. What a special delivery from Santa she was! I wasn't much taller than her. She and I walked and walked and walked together. She got propped up to play with me. I'm sure we ate together and had some deep conversations. And on several occassions, she got to sleep in bed with me. How that worked, I have no idea because there wasn't anything soft about her...she is made of HARD plastic.
Like most kids, I played with my dolls and toys less and less as I got older. I got busy with the phone, friends, sleepovers, etc. Even though my priorities changed, my love for them did not. I refused to get rid of them. Many of them got to sleep on my made up bed every day while I was in school. The other ones got to hang out on a shelf in my closet with their friends. And eventually, some got stored away. My mom and I did it carefully...many were bagged and then boxed to increase the chances of them not getting smelly or nibbled on by a rodent. I just refused to get rid of them. Now that I think about it, they probably would've made some little girl or boy very happy, but they continued to make me happy by still belonging to me even though I didn't see them as often. Honestly, my dolls and toys weren't just possessions or "things" I enjoyed. I thought of them as my friends, if not my brothers and sisters. They were fun, and they helped me through some tough times. Anyway, Baby Jane, Monkey Mugs, Coco, Clarence, etc will always have a special place in my heart...and I planned on keeping them until they day I died.
The town in Louisiana I'm from has been known to flood. It flooded twice. The first flood we had (when I was only 4) destroyed just about everything we owned and left me very sick. But if I'm not mistaken, Baby Jane was stored very high in our shed so she was spared from the disgusting flood water. The next flood is what got her (when I was about 10 years old). After that,Baby Jane didn't move well and was very dirty. I should've let her go, but again, I refused to. She got wiped down and stored again. Several years later, I asked to have her sent to a doll hospital for her hair to be replaced. The short black curly hair she had became stinky (like an old moldy storage smell) and matted. I decided I'd like her to have long straight brown hair with thick bangs. The one outfit that fit her (the one that came with her) was ruined. So, for the longest time, she was naked. But when she got discharged from the hospital (with her new do), she went straight to my grandmother's house. My Maw-Maw made her a plaid dress with a lace trim.
After a month or so of great anticipation, I got to meet the NEW Baby Jane! I was so excited! I had missed her so much! But while I was happy to see her, I felt weird too. She wasn't the Baby Jane I knew. She looked nothing like she looked before. I kept thinking about the fun, curly haired girl with the playsuit on I once knew. This girl seemed very reserved, shy, and insecure. She still seemed sweet though, someone I could get to know and like a lot.
I seriously considered giving Baby Jane a new name, one that matched her new look. But I decided that would be too much change all at once. So, she remained Baby Jane. I don't know if keeping her name was a good decision or not. It might have been what kept my good friend, the original Baby Jane, in my mind and heart forever. Baby Jane and I were still good friends, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get too close to her. I got bored with her and had trouble accepting her for who she was. I constantly compared her to the old Baby Jane, the girl I missed so much. And as if that wasn't bad enough, she had permanent damage to her eyes from the flood. When we cleaned them, they only stayed clean for a short time. That chalky film from the flood kept reappearing.
When Ray first looked at her, he said how freaky she looked. Her eyes is what bothered him most, I think. To me, she never looked "freaky". She just looked sick, whereas the original Baby Jane was vibrant and healthy. When I looked at her, she reminded me of how sick I was after the first flood. I didn't want part with her forever, but again, she got stored - for many years this time. While stored, her long hair got very tangled and matted. I thought I might take her to a doll hospital again one day. She wasn't ever forgotten, and she definitley held a special place in my heart. But as an adult with limited space, I decided she was best kept stored. Then, Baby Jane and I met again when Ray and I went through our shed a few weekends ago. It had been a LONG time.
When I first looked at her, I felt more uncomfortable than anything. She was a friend I kept around because I felt bad for her - not because she was someone I couldn't do without. Ray didn't ask me if I wanted to keep her. He didn't think I would consider any other option. At this point in time, I don't have the money to send a doll to a hospital to be cleaned and cosmetically redone. And when I do have the money in the future, I won't want to spend it on her. I will want to spend it on Ray and I or Grayson. Besides, when I look at her, I felt sad - to the point of almost feel nauseous. I thought back to when I was four years old, sick, and in that hospital run by the state under not even up to standard care. I even had a brief flashback of the sights and sounds of that place. I knew I couldn't keep her anymore. She wasn't what she was. She had become someone else - someone I didn't care about...and a reminder of a rough time in my life. So, in the garage sale pile she went.
Like Jacob's picture, Baby Jane sat out in the heat for hours waiting to be picked up by someone - anyone. I watched kids go towards the boxes filled with toys and then walk away after getting a glimpse of Baby Jane. She was, without a doubt, unwanted - by me and kids in search of a friend. She got marked down to $1 or less...still, she sat. After some contemplation, I decided that she had been through enough. She wasn't accepted by me, was stored for years, was set out for garage sale, got looks of fright from kids, etc. That's when I picked her up and put her inside our enclosed porch out of everyone's sight. Then when the garage sale was over, we began the big long process of cleaning up. It took a while to clean off the carport. Then once that was done, we had to collect all the garage sale signs we had posted around the neighborhood.
When Ray opened the door leading into our porch, he saw Baby Jane sitting on the steps next to piles of old newspapers, garbage bags, and boxes. He said, "You decided to keep her?" I said, "No". He said, "What are you doing with her?" I said, "She goes in the trash". He stopped in his tracks and said, "Really?" I said, "Yep, she and I had some good times. I enjoyed her...and I thought she would make some little girl happy. BUT, it wasn't meant to be. So, yeah, put her in the garbage". Hesitant, Ray put her in the bag of trash. I gave him a look to let him know it was okay. Fortunately, the bag she was put into was full of newspaper. I wouldn't have been able to stand real garbage (food and such) on her. That would've really bothered me. It was a little weird, but I felt okay with doing that for the most part. She didn't want to be put back in storage. That is no way to live. She was a good friend when I was little, and she helped make many good memories. So, last Saturday, I said goodbye to a sweet girl that I came to know...my fun, happy friend was gone many years before.
In closing, I will say it felt good to get rid of all that stuff we didn't need or want. We were able to get rid of about 85% of what we put in the garage sale. Someone will find good use for things we just labeled as CRAP. What do they say? "One man's trash is another man's treasure", right? After the garage sale, I thought about all the stuff we went through. The things I put back to be stored are things I want to keep forever. And obviously, I got rid of things that didn't matter to me anymore. Throughout the entire day, Ray kept saying, "How did we collect all this CRAP?" It's so easy to do...many people do it. You just don't realize how MUCH you have. But when he asked that, I specifically thought about all my stuff. Why did I keep so much stuff, things that I can so easily get rid of now? The answer came to be instantly. I hung out to all that stuff to remind myself of the good times...because when I look back at the last 28 years, it is so easy to think about all the unhappy or unpleasant times. The sad truth is that those times were plentiful. But now that my life is so happy as I approach 30 years old with my husband and my son, I don't think much about the past. And when I do, it is easier to make peace with.
So, raise up your glass!!! Toast to the oldy moldy past being dismissed, to the happy giggly feel good now, and to the put on your sunglasses bright ass future!!! :)
sprinkles of cuteness
Like many, I would have to say my roughest childhood stage was my junior high years – the time of “braces, glasses, and zits”…and lucky me had them all.
Junior high friendships are quite complex and very confusing, especially for girls. Well, they were when I was in junior high anyway. Girls at that pre-teen stage of life are so catty! They will do anything at all to gain attention – even at someone else’s expense. Beginning around 6th grade, all girls declared their “BFF” (best friend forever). Personally, I think it should’ve been called “BFFT” (best friend for today). I don’t think there is one girl who doesn’t know what it was like to be awarded a best friend title, only to have it stripped away and given to someone else the next. And believe it or not, something as simple as tight rolling your pants incorrectly could be the cause of such drama. And by the way, that never happened to me! I was an expert tight roller! I was so good at it that one girl would have her mom drop her off at school early so I could tight roll her jeans before others saw her! No, I’m NOT kidding! :) Anyway, needless to say, friendships between girls caused a major lack of self-confidence. Girls at that age are unsure of themselves anyway, but imagine having your best friend approve of you one day and not the next. Fortunately, I wasn’t too affected by what other girls dished out. I quickly learned that most girls were not worth my time and grief.
Boys were cruel too. Well, they were decent to other guys but were very mean to girls. There was this one guy named Brad, who was our “group leader”. Are you wondering why there was a “group leader”? Our circle of friends was referred o as “the group”. We weren’t part of a cult, though it might sound like it. We just called ourselves that. Anyway, once you were accepted into this group, you were part of it until you said or did something stupid (i.e., wearing clothes the others didn’t approve of…and this happened a good bit – judgment based on fashion choices because after all, to be stylish in the 80s, there were strict requirements). Many of us were threatened to be kicked out of “the group” forever, but we were always accepted back in. Anyway, I have no idea why Brad was chosen to be the “group leader”. Maybe it was because he was the loudest guy. And now that I think about it, maybe I always got kicked out because I was the loudest girl! ANYWAY! Brad was the one who always told someone they have been voted out. And he’s the only one who could make such a decision without others input. As I said, we all got kicked out and accepted back in so many times during our 3 years of junior high. Well, except for this one girl named Danielle. The reason why Danielle got a free pass is because she was Brad’s girlfriend! Okay, are you laughing yet?! I am! Brad was a mean kid. He even treated his girlfriend like dirt. Let me put it like this – their song was “One More Try” by Timmy T. Okay, are you laughing now?! Cause I am about to pee in my pants as I write out these details! Brad loved making fun of girls and putting them down. What he found most hurtful was to do it by using their “pre-teen changes” as his #1 target.
Do you remember the candy bar called PB Max? It came out in the 1980s and was basically a big thick square chunk of chocolate covered peanut butter (like Reese’s). PB Max stands for peanut butter max or peanut butter to the max, if I’m not mistaken. Well, dumb butt Brad started calling me PB Max. Why? He said I “padded my bra to the max"! What a jerk huh?! Back then I made it very clear I had not ever stuffed my bra and to this day (at almost 30 years old), I have not ever stuffed my bra. Purchased shaping bras over the years – yes. Stuffed my bra – no. :)
And to think there were times I liked Brad – like “liked him, liked him”! EW! Did I like him because he was a man of power (think about it – a guy of power and a powerful girl together running “the group”) or because Danielle got on my every last nerve and I daydreamed about stealing her boyfriend just to tick her off and leave her feeling unwanted?! Probably all the above. :) By the way, when I went to my reunion last fall, I found out that Brad still builds race cars with his dad and ended up marrying a trashy woman in her 40s (when he was in his early 20s) who had several kids that weren’t much younger than him!!!! And not long after they married, they had a son. Unfortunately, his son will likely be just like him.
So speaking of insecurities, I hated my freckles and my overbite at that age. I still dislike my overbite and hope to get it fixed one day. But one thing I’ve not only made peace with but actually like are my freckles! I think I was unsure about them because not many people had them, which means they were easy to notice and make fun of. Everyone has heard of the term “freckle face”. I was called that many times when I was younger. I hated it. And now that I’m older, I’ve seen many people who are more of a “freckle face” than me. Some people are covered with freckles! I didn’t think I could rid myself of freckles completely, but I really wanted to find a way to reduce the amount of them. I pulled out my mom’s home remedy book. They talked about making your own “freckle remover”, which sounded too good to be true. If removing freckles were as easy as making a potion, wouldn’t everyone do it? So, I kept reading. I finally got to a paragraph that gave a recommendation to those who were “desperate” to get rid of their freckles – and desperate I was. If I didn’t find a way to make some of them vanish or at least fade, I might just not have any friends! But as I read the disgusting instructions (actual article is below), I didn’t think I could do it.
Doesn’t the thought of mixing potent morning urine and apple cider vinegar together make you think twice about whether or not your freckles are so bad?! Then I saw where it said you had to let that mixture set for 24 hours! Where would I set that concoxion without my mom seeing it? If she saw it, she might have given me a lecture about how beautiful I am with freckles, thought I had lost my mind, grounded me, spilled it or something! And as I thought, all that mixing and storing was in preparation to rub it on my face! I decided I needed a few days to think about it and come up with some sort of plan in order to achieve success. After thinking about it for 2 or 3 days, I decided that #1, I couldn’t do it and #2, my freckles really aren’t that bad.
Actually, when I went in for a routine checkup with my physician here recently, I got an "excellent bill of health". But of course, he talked to me about what all a woman my age needs to be sure to do (not smoke, exercise regularly, do breast self-examinations, etc). The only thing he talked to me about that surprised me was my "sun damage spots". He told me I need to take care of my skin, properly protect myself from the sun with sunscreen, hats, etc so I will not get any more "sun damage". It took me a while to realize he was referring to my freckles. And while some of my freckles are a result of exposure ot the sun, some are there because I inherited them. As a matter of fact, my dad and I can match and map out freckles on certain parts of our body (especially our arms) like constellations! Anway, in conclusion freckles are cool! They are cute! I like them! And for the record, I have neither padded my bra nor rubbed urine on my face! Aren’t I a smart girl?! ;) And now that I'm older and more "ME" than ever, I would be much more likely to dump my morning urine on someone's head before I rubbed it on my own face! ;)
By the way, what gave me the idea to do this blog was me running into my mom’s home remedy book this past weekend when Ray, my mom, and I were going through a bunch of old stuff we have stored in our shed. When I notice it was sitting in my mom’s “to be trashed” pile, I said, “Are you throwing this away?!” She said, “Yeah, why?” I said, “Because I want it!!!” She said, “Okay, you can have it.” I turned to the index, looked up “freckles”, flipped to the correct page, and ran to where Ray was. I point out the highlighted paragraph. He said, “What is this? Your mom’s book?” I said, “Yes, you know the story!” He said, “Yeah! Cool! Scan that page and blog about it!” So, that’s what I did. Just think – it is weird stories like this that had a part in making me who I am today! ;)
old photos are funny!
One afternoon while Grayson was napping, I started looking through old photos stored on our computer. I found old pictures of when Ray and I first started dating, when we first adopted each of our dogs (it is amazing how much happier and healthier they look now), etc. I don't think there is anyone who can look at an old picture of themselves without laughing- at the expression on their face, the clothes they were wearing, etc. I found some of the funniest pictures. I was laughing so hard that I don't see how I didn't wake Grayson! :)
I emailed some to my mom and even more to Ray at work. I wanted to make Ray's Friday afternoon fun and give him some laughs in anticipation of the fun weekend ahead! And that's exactly what I did!!!!! :)
The following picture was taken about 2 months after Ray and I met (yeah, I know, we're kinda snaked around each other a lot to have only known each other for 2 months...but it was love at first sight...what can I say?!).
No matter how many times I look at it, I cannot keep a straight face! It is hil-arious!!!!!! It kinda looks like I have my pants pulled up to my boobs, doesn't it?! I don't...I'm just so tall! ;) No, I wasn't that proud of my rear! I have no idea why I'm standing that way! How do you like my browner than brown nail polish?!
I don't ever remember Ray looking THIS Chinese! ;) And he looks so muscular - like some sort of Chinese super hero! I look like a....I don't know....some sort of weirdo - a cowgirl? a wanna be model? a wanna be cowgirl model?!
then and now...
Over the years, I’ve heard so many people talk about how they were blindsided by their parents’ decision to divorce. My case is exactly the opposite. I not only knew my parents would divorce in a matter of time – I wished for it. And actually, it should’ve happened many, many years before it did. My parents definitely had good times, as all couples do. And there were some good family times too. But I will say that the bad far outweighed the good.
My mom really wanted to make her marriage work and tried so hard to keep her family together. Honestly, I don’t know how she was so devoted to this cause when my dad destroyed her dreams time and time again. She was stronger than strong – a super woman I would say. I know she was afraid of what my dad could do if she were to leave him. He could provide her no financial assistance toward raising me and other horrible things. At that time, my dad could be such a cruel person. So, I have no doubt he would’ve done many hurtful things to her and/or me. Otherwise, I know she truly wanted things to work. She loved my dad, loved me, and wanted us to stay together.
My dad was pretty much an impossible person to be married to and to live with. He was a very selfish person who wanted to have a family (a wife and a daughter) but wanted to continue living as a single guy would (controlling all finances, having the say on everything, coming and going as he pleased, having his someone care for his child round the clock, etc). He was very aware of the fact that he was very lucky to have my mom by his side. I heard him say it many times. But sometimes 5 minutes after he said it, he was mistreating my mom again. He did the same thing to me. One minute he was telling someone else how wonderful I am (smart, beautiful, etc); but when they would walk out the door, I suddenly became his daughter who just wasn’t ever good enough. For whatever reason, my dad thought my mom and I would always be there. He thought we’d be there because he led us to believe we couldn’t function without him – we’d never have friends, we’d never have enough money to live, no one would ever love us the way he did, etc. And as sad as it is, he had us both convinced of that for years. Yes, that is what you call mind games.
Finally, halfway through my senior year of high school (what fine timing huh?!), my parents separated. Well, to be more specific, my mom and dad decided to separate and my dad gave us a few days to be out of our house. What my mom and I got out of the house when my dad wasn’t home was all we got to take with us – a few towels, a few blankets, our clothes, and that is about it. As a teenager (who wasn’t aware of how much money it took to live), I was very afraid. So, I can only imagine how scared my mom was. She had to find a way to live and finish raising her daughter on her own. Without much help from my dad, my mom and I survived thanks to her hard work, the help of nice people, and a few little lucky breaks along the way that were probably rewards from “up above” for making it out of hell.
And here we are 11 years later! I’m so proud to say how wonderful each of my parents is doing. My dad even talks about what huge mistakes he made. He knows he can’t change the past, but I know he wishes he could. He is very sorry for the kind of person he was, has worked very hard to make changes, and has been very successful. I’m very proud of him. And I can honestly say I forgive him, when I never thought I’d be able to. Both my mom and my dad learned a lot from their marriage to each other, have become better and stronger individuals, and have entered THE DATING SCENE!
I have listened to the details of my friends dating experiences and my coworkers dating experiences…but I never thought I’d hear the details of my parents’ dating experiences. Not everyone knows what it is like to have parents who are single and dating. Their parents have been together since they were in high school and will not be apart until they die. That is great. I hope and plan on that being mine and Ray’s case. Having Ray as my husband (and Grayson being my son, and other obvious things) is one of the few constants I don’t get bored with. :)
I used to feel so alone in the world as a child of parents who date, but as the years passed, I found out there are many people in the same boat as me. It can be a little awkward at times because for whatever reason, I thought both of my parents would be partnered by now. And it can be a little stressful because I think they make it much more complicated than what it is (as many singles do). I won’t say I’m an expert at dating because I’m not. I HATED dating. I just got lucky by finding Ray and tricked him into marrying me as soon as I could! ;) And it can be a little aggravating too because I want my parents to put themselves out there more or not settle for someone that I feel isn’t good enough for them. Both my mom and my dad are good looking, intelligent, fun, good natured people who need someone who is also all those things. But as weird as it might sound, I find my parents dating kinda fun too!
First of all, I will say that neither or my parents have been in a real serious relationship. It just wasn’t the right time, the right place, or the right person. I’m so glad neither my mom nor my dad has married anyone they’ve dated in the past! I would have hated my “step” with a passion. Both my mom and my dad say they know what they’re looking for in a partner (just as most single people do), but sometimes I wonder if they really know. Personally, I think they won’t know until they stumble across it. My dad has finally learned to keep his eyes open rather than seeking out love. My mom has finally learned she has to be more open-minded and give people half a chance. Guys have shown interest in my mom over the years – from guys she worked with to guys who give her free services (such as oil changes and cell phones) as they give her big smiles and make google eyes at her – and she never has considered giving them a chance.
Anyway, I always find it funny to listen to my mom tell me why she isn’t interested in a guy who showed interest in her. She says a lot, but the answer ends up being somewhere along the lines, “I don’t know…I’m just not interested”. I tried not to buck her too much because no one knows who she likes better than her. And it is just as funny listening to my dad say why he isn’t interested in a particular woman. Either it comes down to “I don’t know…I’m just not interested” (like my mom) or he can’t get past something physical about her (i.e., a large honker – nose, that is!). I understand what he’s saying because if you aren’t attracted to someone physically, you’ll never get anywhere. But at the same time, hearing him say those things cracks me up! And when I do meet a person he’s dating, I wonder why he chose her. I think, “My god! This woman is ugly/annoying/ stupid/whatever! Bring on the b***** with the big nose!” :)
Bottom line: I’m very hard on who my parents date. When it comes down to it, it is them who needs to like that person. They should choose who they feel is best for them – no matter what anyone thinks. But at the same time, I feel that I can see things they can’t…and as you probably assumed, I point them out! :) My mom and my dad are completely different people. And they aren’t even the same kind of people they were when they met or when they were married. They’ve both changed so much – mostly for the good. ;) They are my mom and my dad. They are far from perfect (as we all are), but they are good people. And they deserve to be with someone equally as good. I don’t think either of them need a ring on their finger, but I sure hope they are able to find someone they enjoy spending their days and nights with for a good long while. They both have a lot to offer a boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/whatever. They deserve the kind of love that my dad has recently learned to give and that my mom was always an expert at giving. :)
Good luck to all the single middle-aged men and women out there…may the best win the ultimate prizes – my mom and my dad!
Ba-bye!
Is this a fallen satelite from the 70's? 
Or is it an old engine block from a block?Wrong! It was our A/C unit as of 2 days ago. By now it is probably recycled or became landfill. Yes our A/C has finally died. We always knew this day would come, but was hoping to sell before it did. Oh the joy of owning a 50 year old house!
Ray
Rainbows apologize for angry skies. ~Sylvia Voirol
It has been raining just about every day in Dallas since BEFORE Memorial Day. Yes, it has been raining for OVER a month! I haven’t ever been one to hate rain or really even dislike it – until now. I am SO sick of it. Many people in Texas have died because of all the flooding. Because my family went through two floods when I was a child, I know how HORRIBLE it is. We have water standing in our yard and on our street. We don’t even get a chance to mow our yard between downpours because the ground stays so wet!
Fortunately, Grayson isn’t bothered by the bad weather. He sleeps through it. Yoshi uses it as an excuse to lay in the same spot on our bed until Ray or I force him to move (I wonder what his excuse was before all these rains started!!!) The dogs, especially Daisy and Mya, absolutely hate it. They are such scaredy cats! Daisy won’t let us out of her sight. She is on our heels everywhere we go. Mya wants to stay with us to. She wants to stay with us so bad that she trips us as we walk from room to room. But unlike Daisy, Mya doesn’t want to be next to us. She likes to find a hiding place in the room we’re in. When the poor girl finds the spot she feels safest, she sits down, and shakes like a leaf. Poor girl. And I will admit that I have been in an advanced state of FUNK in the last few weeks. I tell you – I have never been waiting with open arms and so ready to embrace the 110 degree weather that we’re destined to get!!!
Last week, when Ray and I were leaving the store and driving to my mom’s place, we saw a beautiful rainbow. It wasn’t one of those you had to keep moving to find again! It was big and long! It was one of those that had to have a big pot of gold at the end with little leprechauns jumping in it making coins spill over the sides!
Ray and I began discussing rainbows and how their not as simple as they appear. We both know how complicated they are (the science behind them), but neither of us could show off our smarts to the other…and I know if either of us could have, we would have. We have fun giving each other a hard time. :) All we knew is how beautiful that rainbow before us was. And the cool thing is that it stayed in front of us until we got out of the car! It sure was a nice “pick me up” after weeks and weeks of continual dreariness, earth shaking thunder, sharp bolts of lightning, and soaked to the bone wetness.