I remember back when I was seventeen. I lived with the Roser family. A beautiful, talented family in Stafford, Va. They took me in when things were not going well at home. They were Lutheran, still are I assume. I would go to church with them and after services I would sit with the preacher, minister, pastor? Not sure what his title was. We would discuss my situation, my faith, any questions I had. I remember being doubtful and mistrustful of anything he said. I was brought up attending Cape Fear Baptist Church with my grandma. So I knew the stories. I knew what I was supposed to believe.... I just wasn't sure I did believe.
A lot of questions have arose in response to the shooting deaths of the children and adults in CT last Friday. Tomorrow will be a week. Some have said that it was God's will because the state passed a same sex marriage law. Others have said that God was nowhere around because there is no prayer in school. Others have said that we need tougher gun laws. Still others swear it is because the killer (he who refuses to be named) was autistic...
I was taught that God's plan for us was designed long before we were ever brought on to this world. That everything that was to happen was already conceived. God's plan was God's plan. Given that, is it not perhaps possible that this was meant to happen according to God's will? That these beautiful people died so tragically to meet some greater plan? That their lives and their deaths were to make changes in the world? That the events that unfolded may influence people to do things differerently? This is just me playing Devil's Advocate based on what I was taught as a child.
Westboro Baptist believes that this is God's will because of CT passing a same sex law. I don't believe God would make an example of so many of his children for this reason. I don't know God to be vendictive and mean spirited. I was taught God was loving and whatnot. However, I am not always on speaking terms with God so I cannot claim to know. But given that God was responsible for creating all of HIS creatures, including but not limited to gay and lesbians, I can't see how he would destroy such beautiful people for a law that was passed.
If you believe that our lives are played out on a linear path (A has to happen before B and then C happens because B happened and so on... ) then you understand that there were things laid out that led up to this tragedy. What if the killer's mother did not target shoot and own guns? What if the parents had not divorced? There are so many what ifs that I think you could safely go all day long just trying to understand. We will never get the answers we want. Never.
As a woman who struggles with her spirituality, I can safely say that I think that prayer in school or not, this would have happened. I wonder sometimes if the people promoting prayer in school, actually take their children to church. Morality and spirituality should start in the home. It is not our schools' responsibility to teach our children to be ethical and moral humans. Their job is to provide an education to our youth that will create productive members of society. If parents wish for their children to attend a nonsecular school, they should home school or send to a christian based school. I don't think that prayer in school is a bad thing at all. I honestly believe that our children's education should be complemented by instruction at home.
Gun control is a hot debate and always will be. The fundemental right to bear arms was written in to our constitution for a reason. I don't think stripping citizens of their right is going to stop these tragedies. There are too many ways to get things illegally. If a person wants to do something and are determined enough, they will find a way.
Our society is at a crossroads. We have to look deep down in to what we are doing to ourselves and our future generations. I don't think there is any one clear cut way to correct things that will not take time. We may want to start by looking at where our funding goes and where it should be going. Instead of taking money away from education and mental health and giving it to big corporate bailouts, we should build our society up and not make it worse. There is a lot to think about.
In the meantime, I, with my spirituality in distress, wonder what to tell my seven year old when he tells me that he had a nightmare that someone was trying to kill him.
I don't pretend to have any answers... There are far smarter people than me trying to figure this out. I do know that I do not want my child growing up in a culture of fear. I don't want him afraid to go to school, the mall, the movies, the park... So I am teaching him that there are good and bad people. But we are living our lives as if we will live long ones. Healthy, safe lives. Because if I don't then we are already dead... Walking around afraid to live. Afraid to be. Afraid to enjoy ourselves.
Just the ramblings of a slightly neurotic woman who questions everything....
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Legacy
As a parent we are given the job of raising a person from birth to adulthood that will be a productive member of society. A person that will give more to the world than they take from it. We try to raise a well rounded individual that is intelligent, happy, and well adjusted. That is a big responsibility to put on a person. The molding and shaping of another being. It is fraught with perils and risks.... and rewards. It is a challenge that millions of people take on every day. The title of "parent".
If you happen to choose the role of single parent on your own or it is thrust upon you by life's circumstances, then you know what I mean when I say it can be even scarier. You play the role of mother and father a lot of the time. You cater to the whims of your child, their pain, their joy, answer all of their questions. I know that my son is starting to ask me deep questions (well deep for a six year old) and I am having to think up thoughtful yet honest answers that a six year old can understand.
As a parent, if my child is interested in sharks, snakes, spiders and other gross boy things, then I have to be interested as well. I know more about the aforementioned creatures than I ever cared to. Yes, I will sit with him for hours watching documentaries on dinosaurs, snakes, and sharks and pretend that I thoroughly enjoy it. Afterwards, when he has questions on what he viewed, we look the answers up online. I've read the books, taken him to see the exhibits, am even considering getting him a snake as a pet. Why do I do this? Because I'm his mom and that's what I do. It's my job. You never know, I may be raising a future veterinarian or animal scientist.
As a single parent (and here I say parent, not mom, because single fathers have the same duty) I never truly without my child. Even the time that he spends with his dad, I am still a mom. Yes, I do enjoy adult time with him away but he is never far from my thoughts. I worry about him and think about the things that are upcoming that we have to do. I do chores for him: shopping and laundry and other things.
When you take into consideration that everything you do regarding your child, every word you say to them, what you feed them, what you expose them to, the things they overhear or see you do, shape your child.... it's amazing that any intelligent person reproduces.
Safety: Oh my the fears of what can happen to your child... you try your best to protect them and yet let them grow as a person....Why do we even try and take on the responsibility? It can be so overwhelming.... but the sweet reward of a beautiful person who is an extension of you. That is why. Your legacy to the world....
If you happen to choose the role of single parent on your own or it is thrust upon you by life's circumstances, then you know what I mean when I say it can be even scarier. You play the role of mother and father a lot of the time. You cater to the whims of your child, their pain, their joy, answer all of their questions. I know that my son is starting to ask me deep questions (well deep for a six year old) and I am having to think up thoughtful yet honest answers that a six year old can understand.
As a parent, if my child is interested in sharks, snakes, spiders and other gross boy things, then I have to be interested as well. I know more about the aforementioned creatures than I ever cared to. Yes, I will sit with him for hours watching documentaries on dinosaurs, snakes, and sharks and pretend that I thoroughly enjoy it. Afterwards, when he has questions on what he viewed, we look the answers up online. I've read the books, taken him to see the exhibits, am even considering getting him a snake as a pet. Why do I do this? Because I'm his mom and that's what I do. It's my job. You never know, I may be raising a future veterinarian or animal scientist.
As a single parent (and here I say parent, not mom, because single fathers have the same duty) I never truly without my child. Even the time that he spends with his dad, I am still a mom. Yes, I do enjoy adult time with him away but he is never far from my thoughts. I worry about him and think about the things that are upcoming that we have to do. I do chores for him: shopping and laundry and other things.
When you take into consideration that everything you do regarding your child, every word you say to them, what you feed them, what you expose them to, the things they overhear or see you do, shape your child.... it's amazing that any intelligent person reproduces.
Safety: Oh my the fears of what can happen to your child... you try your best to protect them and yet let them grow as a person....Why do we even try and take on the responsibility? It can be so overwhelming.... but the sweet reward of a beautiful person who is an extension of you. That is why. Your legacy to the world....
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Drafts- Or things I just couldn't bring myself to finish
Draft 1:
Why?
It's quiet this afternoon. The kids are at their respective pre-church activities for tonight. I should be studying. Big test next Wednesday. I keep wondering what I'm thinking taking on this journey yet again when I already had my chance. I could just have a regular 9-5 job and enjoy my little life with no complications. I could enjoy spending time with the kids in the evenings and not have so much anxiety. Why?
When I was fourteen years old I lived in Greensboro, off of Church and Cone Blvd. Somehow I decided I wanted to become a candy striper at Moses Cone. Even at 14 I was driven to learn about new things and take chances. I signed myself up for a first aid and cpr class at the American Red Cross. I actually walked to Wendover from where I lived and took the class. I was that determined. I became that candy striper and was proud of my job. I also worked at Lindley Pool as a locker room attendant.
I was happy. Happy until I had something happen that forced me to move to Va. To move away from my friends and the things I enjoyed doing. It's hard to be uprooted. I was an emotional mess and not good for anything. I met friends when I got to Va. Stafford was a lot different than Greensboro. Everyone I knew had parents either in the Marines or working in D.C. including my dad and step-mom. I never stopped thinking about home; about all my friends that I missed. I stayed in Stafford for most of the school year until something else happened that prompted my dad to send me back to Greensboro.
And so it went.... I was the teen that went back and forth between my parents all through high school. I had no roots. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, without regard for how it would affect my future. My grades suffered. I really was in to my friends and boys and not as much in to school as I should have been. I finally moved out of my dad's for the last time when I was 17. I never returned to either of my parents to live. They have, over the years, helped me out tremendously.
Was I addicted to drugs? No. Did I get into legal trouble? No. I got married at 17 to my first husband. We had the most beautiful and great child. Did the marriage last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us. We were young and so different. I got married again a year after our divorce. Had another beautiful son eleven years later. Did it last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us.
Draft 2:
"How come you never tell me about your problems?"
"How come you never tell me about your problems?" she asked. I thought about it briefly before responding.
I don't tell you about my problems simply because they are not problems. They are life. I am a single mother of a six year old and I am also raising a fourteen year old niece. My life is chaotic, messy and more than a little overwhelming at times. Problems? The car breaking down, the home repairs, the bills, having to be in three places at one time are not problems, they are my life. A problem is something that has no solution. Something I cannot fix or manage. I don't talk about these things to you because I don't look at them as problems, I look at them as every day occurrences that challenge me and I can either rise to the occasion or I can fall apart. When you have other people who depend on you, you do not have the luxury of falling apart. I tried it. It didn't take.
I laugh and I smile. I pray. I depend on my support system. Maybe if I didn't have a solid support system, I may think of things as a problem. But thanks to the Lord, I have what I need to see my way through the ups and downs of my life. It is a beautiful thing to know that a minor setback is just that, a setback. There has only been one area of my life that has been a problem the last few years and it is taking care of itself in a way I never could have foreseen.
Life is good. It is what you make of it. I have love and laughter in my life, wonderful kids, friends and family and I choose not to sweat the small stuff.
Draft 3:
The Obituary
The obituary was brief. Why wouldn't it be? It, after all, was only the death of her sex life. There were no survivors, no one left behind to mourn. The death of her sex life was sudden but not unexpected.
Draft 4
The Secret
If I didn't know that my life would turn upside down... Oh but I knew. I couldn't say what only a few already knew. So I put on my face. I dressed and went about my daily life. I wore my skin like a costume. No one could know the real me inside. The one that spoke in her head what she could not say aloud. I always knew that the day would come where I would have to just yell at the top of my lungs the truth. But that time wasn't now. My skin was feeling tighter. Ever so tighter every day. I feel constricted. It hurts to breath sometimes. But I have to just hang on a while longer. But how much longer? Long enough that I can deal with the looks, the rejection, the disappointment. Can I do that now? No. Not yet.
An unassuming woman. Mild mannered. Good mom. Plain in appearance.... She hid a secret so dark... So threatening to others.
Why?
It's quiet this afternoon. The kids are at their respective pre-church activities for tonight. I should be studying. Big test next Wednesday. I keep wondering what I'm thinking taking on this journey yet again when I already had my chance. I could just have a regular 9-5 job and enjoy my little life with no complications. I could enjoy spending time with the kids in the evenings and not have so much anxiety. Why?
When I was fourteen years old I lived in Greensboro, off of Church and Cone Blvd. Somehow I decided I wanted to become a candy striper at Moses Cone. Even at 14 I was driven to learn about new things and take chances. I signed myself up for a first aid and cpr class at the American Red Cross. I actually walked to Wendover from where I lived and took the class. I was that determined. I became that candy striper and was proud of my job. I also worked at Lindley Pool as a locker room attendant.
I was happy. Happy until I had something happen that forced me to move to Va. To move away from my friends and the things I enjoyed doing. It's hard to be uprooted. I was an emotional mess and not good for anything. I met friends when I got to Va. Stafford was a lot different than Greensboro. Everyone I knew had parents either in the Marines or working in D.C. including my dad and step-mom. I never stopped thinking about home; about all my friends that I missed. I stayed in Stafford for most of the school year until something else happened that prompted my dad to send me back to Greensboro.
And so it went.... I was the teen that went back and forth between my parents all through high school. I had no roots. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, without regard for how it would affect my future. My grades suffered. I really was in to my friends and boys and not as much in to school as I should have been. I finally moved out of my dad's for the last time when I was 17. I never returned to either of my parents to live. They have, over the years, helped me out tremendously.
Was I addicted to drugs? No. Did I get into legal trouble? No. I got married at 17 to my first husband. We had the most beautiful and great child. Did the marriage last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us. We were young and so different. I got married again a year after our divorce. Had another beautiful son eleven years later. Did it last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us.
Draft 2:
"How come you never tell me about your problems?"
"How come you never tell me about your problems?" she asked. I thought about it briefly before responding.
I don't tell you about my problems simply because they are not problems. They are life. I am a single mother of a six year old and I am also raising a fourteen year old niece. My life is chaotic, messy and more than a little overwhelming at times. Problems? The car breaking down, the home repairs, the bills, having to be in three places at one time are not problems, they are my life. A problem is something that has no solution. Something I cannot fix or manage. I don't talk about these things to you because I don't look at them as problems, I look at them as every day occurrences that challenge me and I can either rise to the occasion or I can fall apart. When you have other people who depend on you, you do not have the luxury of falling apart. I tried it. It didn't take.
I laugh and I smile. I pray. I depend on my support system. Maybe if I didn't have a solid support system, I may think of things as a problem. But thanks to the Lord, I have what I need to see my way through the ups and downs of my life. It is a beautiful thing to know that a minor setback is just that, a setback. There has only been one area of my life that has been a problem the last few years and it is taking care of itself in a way I never could have foreseen.
Life is good. It is what you make of it. I have love and laughter in my life, wonderful kids, friends and family and I choose not to sweat the small stuff.
Draft 3:
The Obituary
The obituary was brief. Why wouldn't it be? It, after all, was only the death of her sex life. There were no survivors, no one left behind to mourn. The death of her sex life was sudden but not unexpected.
Draft 4
The Secret
If I didn't know that my life would turn upside down... Oh but I knew. I couldn't say what only a few already knew. So I put on my face. I dressed and went about my daily life. I wore my skin like a costume. No one could know the real me inside. The one that spoke in her head what she could not say aloud. I always knew that the day would come where I would have to just yell at the top of my lungs the truth. But that time wasn't now. My skin was feeling tighter. Ever so tighter every day. I feel constricted. It hurts to breath sometimes. But I have to just hang on a while longer. But how much longer? Long enough that I can deal with the looks, the rejection, the disappointment. Can I do that now? No. Not yet.
An unassuming woman. Mild mannered. Good mom. Plain in appearance.... She hid a secret so dark... So threatening to others.
Monday, November 19, 2012
For Now
The connection was there. They were both more than fully aware of the attraction. He had longed for her for so long it was like a physical ache. She knew that it could never be. They danced around the subject. It was safe to flirt. It was safe to imagine what could be if they could just let go that one time. Just once. He thought of her. She imagined how her life might be different if they could just be together. Imagined a life with him as her partner. It hurt knowing that once they gave in to their desire, it would no longer be safe. They would sacrifice too much. They had too much to lose. They were happy apart but were wanting so badly just to have that one taste. To see. To touch. To explore. What could it possibly hurt? It would hurt because it could never just be one taste. It was already past the point of simple pleasure and had gone in to the realm of danger. For them. For their lives.
So they joked around. They talked of other things. They were to each other what they could not get from their lives already. But nothing more. And they felt it. It was there all the time like a ghost looking over their shoulder. Neither could stop thinking about the other.
It wasn't fair. Would life EVER give her what she wanted? Was it fair for him to want her knowing that it was wrong? They were both confused. They knew even thinking about each other or talking to each other about such things was just wrong. So very wrong.
They stood under the same stars. Under the same moon. In different lives. Knowing each other was alive and there was just enough. They walked around their daily lives with their loves and family and jobs and friends... It was enough just knowing how they felt.
For now.
So they joked around. They talked of other things. They were to each other what they could not get from their lives already. But nothing more. And they felt it. It was there all the time like a ghost looking over their shoulder. Neither could stop thinking about the other.
It wasn't fair. Would life EVER give her what she wanted? Was it fair for him to want her knowing that it was wrong? They were both confused. They knew even thinking about each other or talking to each other about such things was just wrong. So very wrong.
They stood under the same stars. Under the same moon. In different lives. Knowing each other was alive and there was just enough. They walked around their daily lives with their loves and family and jobs and friends... It was enough just knowing how they felt.
For now.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Paint Lives Here.
He was a quiet, unassuming child. We never heard from him unless Katrina wanted us to. I remember when we lived in Greensboro, Paint used to go bowling with us. I never paid much attention to him. When we decided to move from Greensboro to Stedman, Paint followed. Again, I didn't pay it much thought. I was too busy raising my own and other people's children to pay attention to this child named Paint. He was Katrina's friend. One night, everyone was over eating dinner and having a good time. Katrina came out of her room and informed us that we needed to be quiet or Paint would make us. I wasn't even aware that he was at the house. We all got really quiet. Katrina stomped in to her room and shut the door. My dad said that if someone came out of Katrina's room, he was leaving.
Katrina showed me where Paint lived once. A small, white house on Baywood Rd. Really rather unassuming, again I didn't give it much thought. Katrina was always talking about Paint.
One day she stopped talking about Paint. I don't remember when she stopped or how long it took me to notice. I asked her finally what had ever happened to her friend Paint. She told me, very seriously, that his mother had killed him.
I paid attention then.
Katrina showed me where Paint lived once. A small, white house on Baywood Rd. Really rather unassuming, again I didn't give it much thought. Katrina was always talking about Paint.
One day she stopped talking about Paint. I don't remember when she stopped or how long it took me to notice. I asked her finally what had ever happened to her friend Paint. She told me, very seriously, that his mother had killed him.
I paid attention then.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Discovery, not Recovery
Just a few months after my infamous split with my ex-husband, I tried to get back in to the dating scene. After a sixteen year marriage and twenty-four year friendship, dating was the very last thing I should have attempted. But I tried. I really did. I joined Plenty of Fish, Match.com, Datehookup.com and a few other less known sites. Did I have success? Yes and no. Anyone can find someone on a dating site if you are looking hard enough. Will you find a quality person who matches your wants and needs? Maybe. My ex did. I did not. Why did I not? Well, simply because I did not know what my wants and needs were. I met a few guys that I could speak to casually but never met or a few that I met casually but it never amounted to anything. I was not ready. How can you be ready to jump into a relationship when you are dealing with a relationship just ended? You can't with success. You really can't. I did meet my ex-boyfriend on Facebook and we had a great year and a half and I count him as one of my best friends and favorite people. Was the relationship a success? Obviously not if he is an ex. Am I surprised? Not one little bit. I was not ready.
After our relationship ended, I tried the dating websites again. This time with just as much of a failing but for different reasons. This time it is because I am so busy with my own life, I have a hard time meeting people that I am willing to fit into my life as it is currently. I am also unwilling to introduce someone to my six year old. Now, I have a better idea of what my wants and needs are. My wants and needs are simple. But unfortunately they do not include a man. Does this scare me? Very much. Am I worried that I will let love pass me by while I am trying to fulfill my goals? Yes. Do I worry that I will be the old lady who is alone? No, not really because I have so many good friends and family that I doubt very much that I am ever going to be alone.
Life is full of surprises. I am a testament to that. My life was jerked out from under my feet two years ago. Everything I knew to be true was questioned and I have had to learn to adapt and change to go with the flow. I have made a success of my life since then and value everything in it. Am I sad about the state of my love life? Not at all. Not in the slightest. I am still trying to figure out who I am. I am taking time to get to know myself and what I like and don't like. There are things to contend with in the past so that I do not make the same mistakes in the future. My life is happy and fulfilled but also a little bittersweet. It is sad to realize that you are happier alone than you were with the person you expected to grow old with.
I am allowing myself all the time in the world to figure myself out. One thing I have learned in the past two years is that I am a hell of a strong woman. I am determined and will do anything in my power to protect myself and my family. I have also learned that I need to allow myself the time to be myself. To be happy by myself. To love myself. There are days when I cannot breath from the tightness in my chest caused by the memories that crop up. There are days when I am so proud of everything that I have accomplished in the last two years, from my house, to my career and to my friendships. I have earned the right to be who I am. To be proud of everything I have accomplished in my life. No one can take anything away from me unless I allow them to. I am learning to love who I am. I accept who I am with pride.
Do I make mistakes? You bet! Every day. Do I have regrets? But of course. I have so many regrets that I choke on them sometimes. Do I wish I still had my old life? No. The very idea scares me. I was drowning and didn't even know it.
I have a good friend who tells me to not dwell on the past. I don't dwell. I analyze why I allowed myself to be the person I was, to deal with the things I did, to stay when I should have left, and to put a man before my child. I analyze so that I can put things in perspective and not be that person in a future relationship. I want to be a healthy person, mentally, for myself, for my children, and for any future relationship I am in. I am in discovery, not recovery.
After our relationship ended, I tried the dating websites again. This time with just as much of a failing but for different reasons. This time it is because I am so busy with my own life, I have a hard time meeting people that I am willing to fit into my life as it is currently. I am also unwilling to introduce someone to my six year old. Now, I have a better idea of what my wants and needs are. My wants and needs are simple. But unfortunately they do not include a man. Does this scare me? Very much. Am I worried that I will let love pass me by while I am trying to fulfill my goals? Yes. Do I worry that I will be the old lady who is alone? No, not really because I have so many good friends and family that I doubt very much that I am ever going to be alone.
Life is full of surprises. I am a testament to that. My life was jerked out from under my feet two years ago. Everything I knew to be true was questioned and I have had to learn to adapt and change to go with the flow. I have made a success of my life since then and value everything in it. Am I sad about the state of my love life? Not at all. Not in the slightest. I am still trying to figure out who I am. I am taking time to get to know myself and what I like and don't like. There are things to contend with in the past so that I do not make the same mistakes in the future. My life is happy and fulfilled but also a little bittersweet. It is sad to realize that you are happier alone than you were with the person you expected to grow old with.
I am allowing myself all the time in the world to figure myself out. One thing I have learned in the past two years is that I am a hell of a strong woman. I am determined and will do anything in my power to protect myself and my family. I have also learned that I need to allow myself the time to be myself. To be happy by myself. To love myself. There are days when I cannot breath from the tightness in my chest caused by the memories that crop up. There are days when I am so proud of everything that I have accomplished in the last two years, from my house, to my career and to my friendships. I have earned the right to be who I am. To be proud of everything I have accomplished in my life. No one can take anything away from me unless I allow them to. I am learning to love who I am. I accept who I am with pride.
Do I make mistakes? You bet! Every day. Do I have regrets? But of course. I have so many regrets that I choke on them sometimes. Do I wish I still had my old life? No. The very idea scares me. I was drowning and didn't even know it.
I have a good friend who tells me to not dwell on the past. I don't dwell. I analyze why I allowed myself to be the person I was, to deal with the things I did, to stay when I should have left, and to put a man before my child. I analyze so that I can put things in perspective and not be that person in a future relationship. I want to be a healthy person, mentally, for myself, for my children, and for any future relationship I am in. I am in discovery, not recovery.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Once More with Grace
I own the market on clumsiness. I don't say this to brag, as there are many other areas I would wish to excel at. I would love to be the best cook, the most knowledgeable at useless trivia, or even known as someone with an eye for coordinating socks with their shirts.
As far back as I can recall I have been clumsy. I trip over thin air. I fall over wrinkles in the carpet. I fall going up stairs. I "kiss" the bottom of the pool. I have even fallen in a stand up shower. Yes, I have fallen in a stand up shower. Just ask my beloved sister and my six year old.
Now, you may ask, why am I so clumsy? I could blame it on my benign proximal vertigo but alas that only affects me when I go from a sitting to a lying down position (makes my love life interesting to say the least and I have to have my teeth cleaned while sitting up) or I could blame it on my size ten or eleven (depends on shoe) feet or I could even blame it on my trying to do too many things at one time. Nay, the truth is... I am just clumsy. It may be a combination of all of the above or it could be that I get so involved in thinking about something that I don't pay attention to what is going on around me. I choose to believe that God needs some laughs every once in a while what with all the death, destruction and Obamanation going on in the world. God in all his glory looks down upon me and says "you know, after dealing with the Occupy people I think I need a good laugh... Oh let's see how we can embarrass her today". But see, what God doesn't know is... I am beyond being embarrassed by my clumsiness. I own it now. I have fallen in public so often now that I do nothing but laugh (hysterically), brush myself off, check for broken bones and irreparable harm to my dignity, and go about my business. I have slid down my front stairs, landed in an impossibly awkward position that you would have sworn would end in broken legs, and gotten up laughing so hard that I was crying. My friend who had come to pick me up that day for school had her cell phone in hand ready to call 911 with her mouth hanging open watching me laugh. I am not for sure she did not think I had broken what tentative link to reality I had along with broken a bone.
The latest and so far greatest (tied with falling in the stand up shower which I choose to blame on too much body wash) was at 5:30 a.m. I awoke out of a deep slumber to go check on my charge (a charming two year old named Julie; just call me Nanny Saun Saun). As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, I snag my toe or foot on a bag, pitch forward hit my head on the desk chair, land on my knee (yes that is where the rug burn came from) and roll over on my side. There were no witnesses to this but God and like I said I am here for his amusement. I do believe that this event is directly related to "getting up on the wrong side of the bed".
I am a woman of deep and complex thoughts, a loving heart, a stubborn personality, a witch without her coffee, caffeine, and carbs, and clumsy as all get out. And I OWN it. I wear the crown and the only person who could come close to taking it from me is my beloved sister.
As far back as I can recall I have been clumsy. I trip over thin air. I fall over wrinkles in the carpet. I fall going up stairs. I "kiss" the bottom of the pool. I have even fallen in a stand up shower. Yes, I have fallen in a stand up shower. Just ask my beloved sister and my six year old.
Now, you may ask, why am I so clumsy? I could blame it on my benign proximal vertigo but alas that only affects me when I go from a sitting to a lying down position (makes my love life interesting to say the least and I have to have my teeth cleaned while sitting up) or I could blame it on my size ten or eleven (depends on shoe) feet or I could even blame it on my trying to do too many things at one time. Nay, the truth is... I am just clumsy. It may be a combination of all of the above or it could be that I get so involved in thinking about something that I don't pay attention to what is going on around me. I choose to believe that God needs some laughs every once in a while what with all the death, destruction and Obamanation going on in the world. God in all his glory looks down upon me and says "you know, after dealing with the Occupy people I think I need a good laugh... Oh let's see how we can embarrass her today". But see, what God doesn't know is... I am beyond being embarrassed by my clumsiness. I own it now. I have fallen in public so often now that I do nothing but laugh (hysterically), brush myself off, check for broken bones and irreparable harm to my dignity, and go about my business. I have slid down my front stairs, landed in an impossibly awkward position that you would have sworn would end in broken legs, and gotten up laughing so hard that I was crying. My friend who had come to pick me up that day for school had her cell phone in hand ready to call 911 with her mouth hanging open watching me laugh. I am not for sure she did not think I had broken what tentative link to reality I had along with broken a bone.
The latest and so far greatest (tied with falling in the stand up shower which I choose to blame on too much body wash) was at 5:30 a.m. I awoke out of a deep slumber to go check on my charge (a charming two year old named Julie; just call me Nanny Saun Saun). As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, I snag my toe or foot on a bag, pitch forward hit my head on the desk chair, land on my knee (yes that is where the rug burn came from) and roll over on my side. There were no witnesses to this but God and like I said I am here for his amusement. I do believe that this event is directly related to "getting up on the wrong side of the bed".
I am a woman of deep and complex thoughts, a loving heart, a stubborn personality, a witch without her coffee, caffeine, and carbs, and clumsy as all get out. And I OWN it. I wear the crown and the only person who could come close to taking it from me is my beloved sister.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The House that Crack Built Part Three
As my foray into singledom continues and my attempt to turn my "house that crack built" into a home for myself and my family, I dig my heels deep into what has served me well over the years, PURE STUBBORNNESS. Yes, stubbornness, cause Lord knows I could be a lot further along in the repair business if I did not insist on doing things my way.
There is a series by Sarah Graves that I like to read. It is titled "Home Repair is Homicide". The repairs that she does to her Federal style house are way out of my league in terms of scale and talent. However, the very real fact that my house was built by crack heads (see previous posts for proof of this) and that I am doing the repairs when I have no talent, money or time are proof enough that I am involved in my very own version of Sarah Graves novels.
When you are a single woman and are working on your own home, you have several options to get things done:
Hire someone (this method works as long as you have money to pay said repair person)
Ask a friend for help (this option has served me well over and over and I am grateful the Lord has seen fit to bless me with the friends He has)
Do it yourself (ahhh.... this is the option that I go for as often as I can, with mixed results)
Don't do anything and let it continue to fall apart (this is how I got stuck with so much work in the first place but hey, it builds character)
I have a good friend who I call when I am contemplating some purchase or repair that is outside my skill set. Recently the conversation turned to the element in my oven needing to be replaced. He asked if I could have my ex boyfriend or my ex brother in law put the new one in since there is some wiring involved. I got slightly offended that he did not think I could handle the job. In his defense, he has known me for about fifteen years and is quite aware of my limitations around wiring, plumbing, automotives and lawnmowers. So my taking offense lasted oh all of five seconds. My response to his blatant assumption that I may be better off having someone with knowledge or hell, even a better set of tools (and that is not a euphemism for what is between a male's legs) install the element was an indignant "I don't want to have a man fix something every time something breaks in my home. I am perfectly capable of figuring it out on my own, looking the instructions up on the internet or hell, even YouTubing (and yes it is now a verb) it". He soothed my ruffled feathers and wished me luck.
Doing things myself: I have wired my thermostat after it was taken down for the professional help to put the sheetrock up. I did this by pulling the schematics up on the internet and connecting wires as shown. I have replaced outlets with only minor shocks. I can unclog drains (this skill came after my ex husband got tired of unclogging the Upipe under the sink after I had poured grease down it over and over. He finally had enough and told me I was on my own to get it unclogged. Tough love. Gotta love it.) I fixed the locking mechanism on my front load washing machine after I broke it slamming the door shut after putting a queen size comforter in it (they don't fit). Again, I looked up online how to replace the part after I bought it. I have even stopped leaking pipes, jerry rigged my son's bed and put up light fixtures (this I do not like doing at all). Every time I accomplish something on my own, I get excited and thrilled. I am not dependant on a man!!! No one in the world knows how much this means to me. The very real independence that I get from being able to accomplish a task on my own or with minimal help is thrilling to me.
When I walk into my home, I am walking in to my sanctuary. I look around at all the changes I have made in the last two years. I love it. I am content and happy at the choices I have made. The paint colors, the designs... Every part I had a hand in I am pleased with. There is a very real sense of satisfaction when you are successful in your endeavors. I take pride in my surroundings and my home is a testament to all that I have endured and all the hard work I have done in the last two years and I am in love with it.
Working on my home has taught me several things... patience, prioritizing, praising God, skill, and most important of all: I can accomplish something when I set my mind to it.
Next up for my home: light fixtures up, new faucet in the kitchen, new smoke detectors, and repair some sheet rock. That should be done in next week or so. After that, I hope to get the trim put up and a window replaced.
The house that crack built is becoming the home that Saundra Chavis made... It is fun and it is frustrating but it is all MINE.
There is a series by Sarah Graves that I like to read. It is titled "Home Repair is Homicide". The repairs that she does to her Federal style house are way out of my league in terms of scale and talent. However, the very real fact that my house was built by crack heads (see previous posts for proof of this) and that I am doing the repairs when I have no talent, money or time are proof enough that I am involved in my very own version of Sarah Graves novels.
When you are a single woman and are working on your own home, you have several options to get things done:
Hire someone (this method works as long as you have money to pay said repair person)
Ask a friend for help (this option has served me well over and over and I am grateful the Lord has seen fit to bless me with the friends He has)
Do it yourself (ahhh.... this is the option that I go for as often as I can, with mixed results)
Don't do anything and let it continue to fall apart (this is how I got stuck with so much work in the first place but hey, it builds character)
I have a good friend who I call when I am contemplating some purchase or repair that is outside my skill set. Recently the conversation turned to the element in my oven needing to be replaced. He asked if I could have my ex boyfriend or my ex brother in law put the new one in since there is some wiring involved. I got slightly offended that he did not think I could handle the job. In his defense, he has known me for about fifteen years and is quite aware of my limitations around wiring, plumbing, automotives and lawnmowers. So my taking offense lasted oh all of five seconds. My response to his blatant assumption that I may be better off having someone with knowledge or hell, even a better set of tools (and that is not a euphemism for what is between a male's legs) install the element was an indignant "I don't want to have a man fix something every time something breaks in my home. I am perfectly capable of figuring it out on my own, looking the instructions up on the internet or hell, even YouTubing (and yes it is now a verb) it". He soothed my ruffled feathers and wished me luck.
Doing things myself: I have wired my thermostat after it was taken down for the professional help to put the sheetrock up. I did this by pulling the schematics up on the internet and connecting wires as shown. I have replaced outlets with only minor shocks. I can unclog drains (this skill came after my ex husband got tired of unclogging the Upipe under the sink after I had poured grease down it over and over. He finally had enough and told me I was on my own to get it unclogged. Tough love. Gotta love it.) I fixed the locking mechanism on my front load washing machine after I broke it slamming the door shut after putting a queen size comforter in it (they don't fit). Again, I looked up online how to replace the part after I bought it. I have even stopped leaking pipes, jerry rigged my son's bed and put up light fixtures (this I do not like doing at all). Every time I accomplish something on my own, I get excited and thrilled. I am not dependant on a man!!! No one in the world knows how much this means to me. The very real independence that I get from being able to accomplish a task on my own or with minimal help is thrilling to me.
When I walk into my home, I am walking in to my sanctuary. I look around at all the changes I have made in the last two years. I love it. I am content and happy at the choices I have made. The paint colors, the designs... Every part I had a hand in I am pleased with. There is a very real sense of satisfaction when you are successful in your endeavors. I take pride in my surroundings and my home is a testament to all that I have endured and all the hard work I have done in the last two years and I am in love with it.
Working on my home has taught me several things... patience, prioritizing, praising God, skill, and most important of all: I can accomplish something when I set my mind to it.
Next up for my home: light fixtures up, new faucet in the kitchen, new smoke detectors, and repair some sheet rock. That should be done in next week or so. After that, I hope to get the trim put up and a window replaced.
The house that crack built is becoming the home that Saundra Chavis made... It is fun and it is frustrating but it is all MINE.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Virgin List
Everyone has a list. A wish list, a bucket list... a list of things they want to do... I call mine the virgin list. I call it the virgin list because it is a list of things I want to do that I have never done before. This year my list is short and simple. Zip lining. I am deathly afraid of heights and being the stubborn, hardheaded girl that I am, I thought I would try zip lining as a way to overcome this fear. It is the same reason I will get on a ferris wheel or a roller coaster knowing that I will stop breathing and my heart will practically jump out of my chest from the time the ride starts until I am safely on my two feet on firm ground.
I have never been afraid of trying new things, be it food, activity, or places... hell even people. I ain't scared!!! Nope not I. To look at me, you would never think I have done some of the things I have. And that's a good thing. My looks deceive. I am the mild, overweight, plain mother of two who under her facade is a free spirit who loves to push her own envelope.
My virgin list includes zip lining (going next weekend in Myrtle Beach and again for my birthday in July at a place in Fayetteville), New York City, kayaking, run in a marathon, parasailing, skydiving, drive across country, and go on a cruise.
I am sure my list will grow and change as I get older and my interests change. Several items on my virgin list are on there to challenge my body and my fears. Several are on there just because I have always wanted to do them.
I am the girl that once she gets her mind set on something, she will move heaven and earth to make it happen. I am stubborn to a fault and don't know when to call it quits. This has served me well and not so well, depending on the situation.
I am determined to bust my cherry (pardon the pun) on the items on my virgin list....
I have never been afraid of trying new things, be it food, activity, or places... hell even people. I ain't scared!!! Nope not I. To look at me, you would never think I have done some of the things I have. And that's a good thing. My looks deceive. I am the mild, overweight, plain mother of two who under her facade is a free spirit who loves to push her own envelope.
My virgin list includes zip lining (going next weekend in Myrtle Beach and again for my birthday in July at a place in Fayetteville), New York City, kayaking, run in a marathon, parasailing, skydiving, drive across country, and go on a cruise.
I am sure my list will grow and change as I get older and my interests change. Several items on my virgin list are on there to challenge my body and my fears. Several are on there just because I have always wanted to do them.
I am the girl that once she gets her mind set on something, she will move heaven and earth to make it happen. I am stubborn to a fault and don't know when to call it quits. This has served me well and not so well, depending on the situation.
I am determined to bust my cherry (pardon the pun) on the items on my virgin list....
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Snoopy: World's Greatest
She didn't want it. How could she say no? He offered the Snoopy trophy like a peace offering. If she accepted it, did it make it ok what he did? Would it ever be ok again?A friend of a family member, she doesn't remember a time when he wasn't around. Old, so old to her, in reality maybe forty? Fifty? Who knows. She never asked. It wasn't the important part. He had a beard and seemed so big to her. But she was but a little girl of nine so everyone seemed big. He was friendly and nice and paid attention to her. He told her he had a stereo he wanted her to have. Where should it go in her room? Was there enough space? Let's look?
She wants to look back on her young self and scream "NOOOOO!" He's tricking you. He's trying to get you alone. She looks as if through a window and wants to bang on the glass and warn, oh warn her so badly to just do anything but go in that room. Run outside, go anywhere. Just stay away.
"Young girls shouldn't be alone in a room with a man" is what she is told. It's too late. Violated, she doesn't understand. Why would he be nice and then be mean. Why? It wasn't the only time but it was the worse time. The pool at the motel, the room, the non-existent stereo.
No one tells you. Because no one believes that things exist that can turn on a dime. Forever marked by the betrayal, she can't breathe when she goes to the place where he works. She avoided it for so long. Finally, she goes with a friend for some innocent shopping. It has been 20 years. She walks in. Her heart pounds. She starts sweating. And she remembers his offer of Snoopy.
We aren't supposed to wish people dead. It's unchristian. It's not healthy. And she never did. He was the one man she hated. When she was told of his death, all she could do was say "I'm glad".
A grown woman now, she still feels like a nine year old little girl when she passes the motel with the pool or the place where he worked... or the room... the room that should have been her haven but where she felt pure shame for the first time.
She didn't want Snoopy. She said no.
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