I am not one who typically makes New Years's resolutions, simply because who really wants to see failure in black and white? I did make an exception for 2013,and I blogged my resolutions as a way to be accountable. I put them in black and white for the entire world to see, because if I was going to fail...go big or go home right? No pressure. In 2013 I resolved to...
*Be as accepting of myself as I am of my friends and family. I made progress on this one, though I have a long way to go.
*Read at least three classic novels FAIL...however I did read several books.
*Add more print to my wardrobe, buy a pair of colored jeans,
actually wear said colored jeans in public, and to add
a variety of colors to my closet that aren't blue, black, or grey. Partial success...I added a lot of color, but the colored jeans did not happen. Well...not unless you count those dark blue ones and last time I looked dark blue was a color.
*Strive to achieve a fit mind, body and soul. I made several lifestyle changes this year, and I have to say that I feel like a whole new person. My goal for 2014 is to work on the mind aspect a little more.
*Learn to cook something I have never made before I blew this one out of the water. I used several ingredients I have never used before thanks to a few fellow foodie friends who have awesome Pinterest boards.
*Write at least 10,000 words in my book by mid summer I hit this one out of the park as well.
*Express thanks I have counted my blessings several times over and I have expressed sincere thanks to God, family and friends.
*See at least one musical either live or in the theater FAIL...unless you count the twenty minutes of The Sound Of Music that I watched when it aired on television.
*Get back to the basics It is ever a work in progress, and I am headed in the right direction.
*Accept the things I can not change, have the courage to change the things
I can and be wise enough to know the difference. This is a tough one! It's the being wise enough to know the difference that gets me every time.
Being accountable has certainly helped me follow through. Now in 2014 I resolve to...
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
A matter of Moments
Tonight is my last night to be a momma to a 10 year old. When Charli wakes up in the morning she will already be 11. It is remarkable that an entire decade has passed, looking back I see her life in a series of moments...except for the first 3 weeks of her life...those are a blur.
Moments...
Her little yawn and baby breath
When she stopped breathing at 5 1/2 months old
When she said her first words
Our first trip to the bathroom because she threw her plate off the highchair at Steak and Shake when I told her to eat her French toast sticks. (Yes, she was only about 15 months old, and no she has never thrown another plate again. Yes, I am just as creeped out as you are that I remember what she ate for breakfast that day).
When she was 2 and took off across a parking lot and stopped about 4 feet before the sidewalk...past the sidewalk lay a 6 lane highway. (Yes, she got her booty spanked, afterwards I locked myself in a bathroom stall of the Best Buy in Valdosta, GA and bawled because she scared me so badly, and no she has never run across another parking lot since...oh and the reason I didn't have a hold of her hand is because she dropped her book, I let her hand go so she could pick it up and it happened that quick).
When she convinced me to buy her a potbellied pig and I convinced her father. Wilbur lived with us happily for 6 months until he got out of his enclosure and ran away.
The time she tossed the cat into our above ground pool with the inflatable ring, to see if he could swim...the cat survived...the pool...not so much.
Oh...when her Aunt Tracy let her do an art project with glitter in my kitchen when she was two...and I was cleaning up glitter for about 6 months afterward.
Her 5th birthday when we took her to Disney and the look on her face when they transformed her into Cinderella at the Bippity Boppity Boutique.
When she threw up on a field trip in the first grade because she had strep throat and I had no idea she was even sick. (Yes I chaperoned...thankfully).
Moments...I am so thankful for the highs and the lows, for every giggle and every tear, for skinned knees, strep throat, ear infections, and the best pediatrician on the planet. I'm thankful for all the sleepless nights, the cuddles, the rolling eyes, stomping feet, and lessons on the latest fashions. There was a time that we weren't even sure if we would be able to birth our own child...or have a child at all. I remember what life was like before Charli and life after Charli is so much more. My heart is filled to the brim. I am beyond blessed and I thank God every day that He picked me to be the mommy to my funny, sweet, stubborn, compassionate, creative, dramatic, sassy, loquacious sunshine girl.
Happy 11th birthday, baby bear...I love you to the moon and back again plus all the stars in the sky.
Moments...
Her little yawn and baby breath
When she stopped breathing at 5 1/2 months old
When she said her first words
Our first trip to the bathroom because she threw her plate off the highchair at Steak and Shake when I told her to eat her French toast sticks. (Yes, she was only about 15 months old, and no she has never thrown another plate again. Yes, I am just as creeped out as you are that I remember what she ate for breakfast that day).
When she was 2 and took off across a parking lot and stopped about 4 feet before the sidewalk...past the sidewalk lay a 6 lane highway. (Yes, she got her booty spanked, afterwards I locked myself in a bathroom stall of the Best Buy in Valdosta, GA and bawled because she scared me so badly, and no she has never run across another parking lot since...oh and the reason I didn't have a hold of her hand is because she dropped her book, I let her hand go so she could pick it up and it happened that quick).
When she convinced me to buy her a potbellied pig and I convinced her father. Wilbur lived with us happily for 6 months until he got out of his enclosure and ran away.
The time she tossed the cat into our above ground pool with the inflatable ring, to see if he could swim...the cat survived...the pool...not so much.
Oh...when her Aunt Tracy let her do an art project with glitter in my kitchen when she was two...and I was cleaning up glitter for about 6 months afterward.
Her 5th birthday when we took her to Disney and the look on her face when they transformed her into Cinderella at the Bippity Boppity Boutique.
When she threw up on a field trip in the first grade because she had strep throat and I had no idea she was even sick. (Yes I chaperoned...thankfully).
Moments...I am so thankful for the highs and the lows, for every giggle and every tear, for skinned knees, strep throat, ear infections, and the best pediatrician on the planet. I'm thankful for all the sleepless nights, the cuddles, the rolling eyes, stomping feet, and lessons on the latest fashions. There was a time that we weren't even sure if we would be able to birth our own child...or have a child at all. I remember what life was like before Charli and life after Charli is so much more. My heart is filled to the brim. I am beyond blessed and I thank God every day that He picked me to be the mommy to my funny, sweet, stubborn, compassionate, creative, dramatic, sassy, loquacious sunshine girl.
Happy 11th birthday, baby bear...I love you to the moon and back again plus all the stars in the sky.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
More than a "Wrinkles" in time
We pose the same question to our children that once was posed to us when we were young...What do you want to be when you grow up? When I was a kid, my answer was always a teacher, a mommy, a writer. I did briefly want to be a pediatrician for about thirty seconds until I passed out at the foot of my mother's hospital bed sometime between ages 11 and 12. Do you know what I never wanted to be? A nurse. I know me, I know what I can handle and what I can't and I even knew it as a child. Bodily fluid, beeping machines, needles...yeah... that isn't for me, but God bless those that have made nursing their profession. I certainly have a deep appreciation for nurses.
Almost two weeks ago, my grandma broke her hip. She is getting rehabilitation at "the old folks home" as my daughter likes to call it. I see several nurses, and CNA's every day. I understand there is one of them and many more "old folks" that they are responsible to take care of. I get that it is a demanding, sometimes thankless job. In the whirlwind, I wonder if some working in the healthcare industry are even aware when they stop seeing their patients as people but merely a task to be accomplished so it can be checked off the list. My grandma is more than that sweet old lady down the hall, who had her TV set on the spanish channel, because she couldn't get to her remote. Grandma was born in 1926. She grew up in West Virgina and trust me, adios amigos is the extent of her knowledge of the spanish language. She is so much more than the person you see laying in the bed, or sitting in the wheelchair to eat dinner.
Grandma is...
Corn pops in coffee cups, porch swings, blue and white tricycles and the best scrambled eggs I've ever had. She is walks to the park, summer shorts made on her sewing machine, discipline in the form of fuzzy pink slippers, and the reason I hate hot dogs to this day. She is praying to Ernest, riding the horsey; 2, 4, 6, 8, Johnny had a little snake, and a "don't be that way or nobody will like you".
Grandma is...
Homemade peanut butter fudge, thumbprint cookies, banana pudding, Christmas lights and "let me hold that baby". She is the woman who wrote to seven guys in the service at the same time, the woman who had her first date with my grandpa at Camden Park, the woman who gave birth to five children and one half of the greatest love story I have ever known. She is "Lord bless you", all the love in the quilts she makes, the best green beans you will ever eat, and the precious woman I named my daughter after.
Grandma is more than the woman who pressed her button again for a pain pill because she forgot she just was given one 5 minutes before. She is more than the woman who doesn't complain...she doesn't like burnt toast any more than anybody else. She is more than a name on a chart. She is someone's widow, mother, sister,aunt, friend, grandmother, great grandmother, and great, great grandmother. She is the heartbeat of a family...I hope they add that to her chart.
Almost two weeks ago, my grandma broke her hip. She is getting rehabilitation at "the old folks home" as my daughter likes to call it. I see several nurses, and CNA's every day. I understand there is one of them and many more "old folks" that they are responsible to take care of. I get that it is a demanding, sometimes thankless job. In the whirlwind, I wonder if some working in the healthcare industry are even aware when they stop seeing their patients as people but merely a task to be accomplished so it can be checked off the list. My grandma is more than that sweet old lady down the hall, who had her TV set on the spanish channel, because she couldn't get to her remote. Grandma was born in 1926. She grew up in West Virgina and trust me, adios amigos is the extent of her knowledge of the spanish language. She is so much more than the person you see laying in the bed, or sitting in the wheelchair to eat dinner.
Grandma is...
Corn pops in coffee cups, porch swings, blue and white tricycles and the best scrambled eggs I've ever had. She is walks to the park, summer shorts made on her sewing machine, discipline in the form of fuzzy pink slippers, and the reason I hate hot dogs to this day. She is praying to Ernest, riding the horsey; 2, 4, 6, 8, Johnny had a little snake, and a "don't be that way or nobody will like you".
Grandma is...
Homemade peanut butter fudge, thumbprint cookies, banana pudding, Christmas lights and "let me hold that baby". She is the woman who wrote to seven guys in the service at the same time, the woman who had her first date with my grandpa at Camden Park, the woman who gave birth to five children and one half of the greatest love story I have ever known. She is "Lord bless you", all the love in the quilts she makes, the best green beans you will ever eat, and the precious woman I named my daughter after.
Grandma is more than the woman who pressed her button again for a pain pill because she forgot she just was given one 5 minutes before. She is more than the woman who doesn't complain...she doesn't like burnt toast any more than anybody else. She is more than a name on a chart. She is someone's widow, mother, sister,aunt, friend, grandmother, great grandmother, and great, great grandmother. She is the heartbeat of a family...I hope they add that to her chart.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
My eyes...my beautiful eyes.
So there I am, curled in the crook of my husband's arm, head on his chest all set for Wednesday Night, date night. Criminal Minds...I refuse to watch it alone. A few minutes later, our bedroom is stormed by a force, also known as our 10 year old daughter. It goes something like this:
"Mommy...MY EYES...they burn." I ask all the routine questions. Did you get something in them? Shampoo? Soap?
"No, I was holding Murphy (the guinea pig) and put him back in his cage, then I rubbed my eyes and now they BURN!"
"So get a cold rag and put water in them."
So she wets her hands and scoops water into her eyes. Insert blood curdling, ear piercing, the house is on fire screams. I jump up out of bed and grab a towel for Charli, and wet it with cold water. I tell Mark to go grab the eyewash out of the other bathroom medicine cabinet. I have Charli sit on our bed. Her hands are fused to her eyeballs, and she is screaming like a tween at a One Direction Concert. So I did what any other good parent would do. I told Mark to hold her down so I could put the eyewash in her eyes. Next thing I know our house has turned into the WWE. It's full blown Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown on a Wednesday. We wrestled on the bed, then somehow ended up in the living room on the couch, Charli is screaming "I can't breathe!" Dogs are hiding, pretty sure the guinea pig almost had a stroke, expecting the cops to pound on our door any second, my eardrum was on the brink of bursting, so I yelled "FINE! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" I was only trying to help but if she wanted to be stubborn, so be it. I channeled my mother and I threw the bottle of eyewash against the wall. (Yea, I know, not one of my finest Mommy moments, but this blog is real folks, so it is what it is.)
Charli is in her room crying, Mark and I are back in our room, where we attempt to resume Criminal Minds (thank the Lord for the invention of DVR). I suddenly make out what Charli is saying:
"Sweet Lord, help me." Then and this is the best part. She says "I don't wanna be blind."
You know that movie a Christmas Story? Do you remember Ralphie's little brother Randy? His whiny voice when he can't put his arms down in the snowsuit because he is bundled too tight? Well, Charli's voice sounds EXACTLY like Randy's at this point. Mark and I are horrible parents...because we are laughing. I'm not talking haha. Mark was rolling on the bed laughing. I am kegaling to beat the band, so I won't pee my pants.
Then I felt kind of bad...so we called Charli back to our room and I got her calmed down. She is saying random stuff and it's so funny because she is sitting with the rag over her eyes on my bed and she says:
"My eyes...my beautiful eyes." (Which reminds me of a commercial you know the one.)
Her eyes finally stopped burning, and miraculously her eye I got the eyewash in feels much better then the one I didn't get it into. Alas, just when we think the drama is going to die out, her FACE starts burning. So being the concerned mom that I am, I turn to her and say "Do you think it has anything to do with crying your eyes out and screaming like a raging lunatic for the past 30 minutes? Hmm? Put a cold rag on your face, Daddy will get you an ice pack, and go get in bed."
She went to bed and Mark and I laughed and laughed over her Oscar worthy performance. Oh and her eyes are fine, turns out a good cry is a great way to flush them.
"Mommy...MY EYES...they burn." I ask all the routine questions. Did you get something in them? Shampoo? Soap?
"No, I was holding Murphy (the guinea pig) and put him back in his cage, then I rubbed my eyes and now they BURN!"
"So get a cold rag and put water in them."
So she wets her hands and scoops water into her eyes. Insert blood curdling, ear piercing, the house is on fire screams. I jump up out of bed and grab a towel for Charli, and wet it with cold water. I tell Mark to go grab the eyewash out of the other bathroom medicine cabinet. I have Charli sit on our bed. Her hands are fused to her eyeballs, and she is screaming like a tween at a One Direction Concert. So I did what any other good parent would do. I told Mark to hold her down so I could put the eyewash in her eyes. Next thing I know our house has turned into the WWE. It's full blown Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown on a Wednesday. We wrestled on the bed, then somehow ended up in the living room on the couch, Charli is screaming "I can't breathe!" Dogs are hiding, pretty sure the guinea pig almost had a stroke, expecting the cops to pound on our door any second, my eardrum was on the brink of bursting, so I yelled "FINE! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" I was only trying to help but if she wanted to be stubborn, so be it. I channeled my mother and I threw the bottle of eyewash against the wall. (Yea, I know, not one of my finest Mommy moments, but this blog is real folks, so it is what it is.)
Charli is in her room crying, Mark and I are back in our room, where we attempt to resume Criminal Minds (thank the Lord for the invention of DVR). I suddenly make out what Charli is saying:
"Sweet Lord, help me." Then and this is the best part. She says "I don't wanna be blind."
You know that movie a Christmas Story? Do you remember Ralphie's little brother Randy? His whiny voice when he can't put his arms down in the snowsuit because he is bundled too tight? Well, Charli's voice sounds EXACTLY like Randy's at this point. Mark and I are horrible parents...because we are laughing. I'm not talking haha. Mark was rolling on the bed laughing. I am kegaling to beat the band, so I won't pee my pants.
Then I felt kind of bad...so we called Charli back to our room and I got her calmed down. She is saying random stuff and it's so funny because she is sitting with the rag over her eyes on my bed and she says:
"My eyes...my beautiful eyes." (Which reminds me of a commercial you know the one.)
Her eyes finally stopped burning, and miraculously her eye I got the eyewash in feels much better then the one I didn't get it into. Alas, just when we think the drama is going to die out, her FACE starts burning. So being the concerned mom that I am, I turn to her and say "Do you think it has anything to do with crying your eyes out and screaming like a raging lunatic for the past 30 minutes? Hmm? Put a cold rag on your face, Daddy will get you an ice pack, and go get in bed."
She went to bed and Mark and I laughed and laughed over her Oscar worthy performance. Oh and her eyes are fine, turns out a good cry is a great way to flush them.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Time Flies...
"Time flies"...it's so cliché. We say it often and are nonchalant about it. However, there are moments in life that you realize how true that statement is. Tomorrow my only child starts 5th grade and it boggles my mind, that this once tiny being who was a prayer I whispered for nightly against my pillow is starting her final year of elementary school. This tween whose height is even with the bump on my nose, is in fact the same little girl I sang to and rocked to sleep nearly every night until she was three years old. I am in shock that the sassy, shoe stealing, lip gloss wearing young lady, was once the little girl whose hand I let go of in a Denny's parking lot to pick up her book, the one who spilled glitter all over my kitchen, and the one who flashed the entire congregation during her preschool Christmas performance. I truly am in awe of how time flies. I realize...all that time...all those years...really are just little moments. Hundreds of little moments that have made up her young life, and the memories that live in the heart of her mother.
Tonight, on the eve of 5th grade, I will do something I haven't done since who knows when. I will pull out the storage container from her closet floor, and dig through the treasures that lay within it, and find her favorite book from when she was a toddler. I will crawl into her bed and read her a bedtime story. While she sleeps, I will make pancake batter, so when she wakes up tomorrow she can have chocolate chip pancakes made in the pan that is molded like the face of a pig. She will giggle and I will remember that the piggy shaped pancake, is reminiscent of her former obsession with pigs...an obsession that began just before her fourth birthday when I took her to see the movie Charlotte's Web. I will create a moment, one that she may not remember, one that may be lost when I am yelling at her to hurry up or she is going to be late for school...but I will still create a moment nevertheless.
Tomorrow, I will pause for a few seconds and take it all in. I will take her picture on her first day of her last year of elementary school and I will allow it to sink in, and I will take notice that it is a moment in time...and time flies.
Tonight, on the eve of 5th grade, I will do something I haven't done since who knows when. I will pull out the storage container from her closet floor, and dig through the treasures that lay within it, and find her favorite book from when she was a toddler. I will crawl into her bed and read her a bedtime story. While she sleeps, I will make pancake batter, so when she wakes up tomorrow she can have chocolate chip pancakes made in the pan that is molded like the face of a pig. She will giggle and I will remember that the piggy shaped pancake, is reminiscent of her former obsession with pigs...an obsession that began just before her fourth birthday when I took her to see the movie Charlotte's Web. I will create a moment, one that she may not remember, one that may be lost when I am yelling at her to hurry up or she is going to be late for school...but I will still create a moment nevertheless.
Tomorrow, I will pause for a few seconds and take it all in. I will take her picture on her first day of her last year of elementary school and I will allow it to sink in, and I will take notice that it is a moment in time...and time flies.
Friday, August 2, 2013
If blowing out candles on a birthday cake really made wishes come true...what would you wish for? Since today is my birthday, I began to wonder what I would wish for. A bigger house? A newer car? A better job? No. I have given it a great deal of thought. If I had three wishes...I would wish for...
* A time machine. I would have conversations with my younger self and instill the knowledge it took me 36 years to gain. I wouldn't undo any single event good or bad because... that would mean altering the course that is my life, a life in which I'm happy. I would just impart true wisdom...like being healthy has little to do with numbers on a scale, and that the most incredible blessings in life are the ones worth waiting for.
*The ability to recall memories and feel, see, touch, taste, hear and smell the moments just by thinking about them. I would think about my grandpa and be able to feel his arms around me, and breathe in the smell of garlic and Ben Gay. I would remember kissing my dad goodbye before school every morning, and feel the stubble on his cheek and the sound of his voice as he said "Love you, baby." I would think about the moments when the magic of life happens, the moments that are important, the ones that we don't even realize matter until we are looking back. I would be able to remember the way Charli smelled when she was a baby, the sound of her little toddler voice, and the feel of her hand in mine back when it was so much smaller.
*A "Beam Me Up Scotty" machine, big enough for me and a few friends...Seriously how cool would that be?! I could just step in a capsule and beam myself to Italy for a bottle of wine for dinner. My girls and I would never miss another book signing. I could go visit all the places on my bucket list with out the hassle of car or air travel. Yes a Scotty Machine indeed.
Thirty six certainly isn't old by any stretch, though when I was seventeen it seemed ancient. I have learned that sometimes you have to agree to disagree, especially when it comes to your family. I have learned that being able to let go of things helps you hold on to others. I have learned the value of true friendship and am blessed to have true friends. I have learned that regardless of how I would like certain people to take better care of themselves, I can't do it for them. Murphy's Law always applies and sometimes you need to be okay with where you are in order to get where you want to be. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.
Today is my birthday. I am content, well loved and happy. It is a very happy birthday.
* A time machine. I would have conversations with my younger self and instill the knowledge it took me 36 years to gain. I wouldn't undo any single event good or bad because... that would mean altering the course that is my life, a life in which I'm happy. I would just impart true wisdom...like being healthy has little to do with numbers on a scale, and that the most incredible blessings in life are the ones worth waiting for.
*The ability to recall memories and feel, see, touch, taste, hear and smell the moments just by thinking about them. I would think about my grandpa and be able to feel his arms around me, and breathe in the smell of garlic and Ben Gay. I would remember kissing my dad goodbye before school every morning, and feel the stubble on his cheek and the sound of his voice as he said "Love you, baby." I would think about the moments when the magic of life happens, the moments that are important, the ones that we don't even realize matter until we are looking back. I would be able to remember the way Charli smelled when she was a baby, the sound of her little toddler voice, and the feel of her hand in mine back when it was so much smaller.
*A "Beam Me Up Scotty" machine, big enough for me and a few friends...Seriously how cool would that be?! I could just step in a capsule and beam myself to Italy for a bottle of wine for dinner. My girls and I would never miss another book signing. I could go visit all the places on my bucket list with out the hassle of car or air travel. Yes a Scotty Machine indeed.
Thirty six certainly isn't old by any stretch, though when I was seventeen it seemed ancient. I have learned that sometimes you have to agree to disagree, especially when it comes to your family. I have learned that being able to let go of things helps you hold on to others. I have learned the value of true friendship and am blessed to have true friends. I have learned that regardless of how I would like certain people to take better care of themselves, I can't do it for them. Murphy's Law always applies and sometimes you need to be okay with where you are in order to get where you want to be. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.
Today is my birthday. I am content, well loved and happy. It is a very happy birthday.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Believe it...
The words swirl in my head, my fingers feverishly peck the keys, and my word count climbs higher by the second. I never dreamed of owning a farm with talking animals, when I was a kid. I had no desire to be president, or run away with the circus. I wanted to fall in love, get married, have babies, be a teacher, then later changed to being a writer. I didn't think it would take having my heart broken, not once by twice, (being a teenager sucked), before I met the man my childhood dreams were made of. I guess the third time really is a charm. I just assumed that I would have babies, an even number, like two, four, or six. The fact that I was blessed with one is a miracle. Somewhere along the way, from those childhood dreams to the word that invokes fear in many...reality...I grew up and became jaded. What once seemed possible, suddenly had a snow cone chance in Hades of ever happening.
I used to make up stories when I was a kid, to entertain my sister. I had always been the "creative one". I wrote poems, and stories, and in high school, I wrote for the school paper. I am not sure when it happened but sometime after I dipped my toe into the water of the real world, I stopped writing. Why? Life happens. You work, get married, have kids (or in my case a kid), and you pay the bills. Time slips away and you muddle through, one day rolling into the next. You do what needs to be done and you place the needs of your family above all else. You work at a job you no longer love, to provide for the family you do love. If you are lucky, you find a way, to let the person you wanted to be, become part of the person you are.
I never thought I would be in the midst of writing my first novel at 35 years old. Truth be told, I will be 36 in a few weeks. I mean I never thought...I would be in the midst of writing a freaking novel! How incredibly awesome is that?! You are never too old to become the person you were in your dreams. Go ahead, take an acting class or two. Dance like nobody is watching. Head to the batting cages. Go back to school. We teach our children that anything is possible, that with hard work and determination, they can make impossible dreams a reality. We say it to them with such conviction, and we don't doubt the words for a second. We don't doubt their ability to make it happen. Believe it for yourself... the way you believe it for your kids. Give yourself permission to be passionate about something.
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