Conversations around the table in the middle of nowhere . . .

This is just one of the many reasons I love my life; we have very educational and interesting dinner conversations.

After completing our customary "good thing / bad thing" around the table, my 5th grade son busted out with a "Did ya' know" about Hitler committing suicide instead of facing the consequences of his actions.  I commented on how he was really just a cowardly bully and that final act confirmed it.  Which led to the 1st grader needing to know the definition of coward.  But the boy brought us back to the topic of Hitler and how weird he was for wanting only blond haired, blue eyed people in the world when he in fact did not fit that bill.  The fourth grader had yet to learn about the horrors of Hitler so my son felt it was his duty to teach his sister about the real monsters of the world.  We discussed his hatred and killing of millions of Jews.  Which led us into a discussion on Judaism.  My son has always been fascinated by the Menorah (not sure if it's because of it's symbolism or because he's a boy and likes fire) and so we got on the discussion on how does one become a Jew.  I mentioned that if your mother is Jewish than you are considered Jewish as well.  The boy made the connection that if that's true then Mary must have been Jewish because Jesus was a Jew.  I said that's true but if you are a follower of Jesus then you are considered a Christian.  My daughter asked "so what do WE believe?" And that's when I explained that "WE" don't believe anything, it's all about what "YOU" believe.  Everyone gets to make that decision on their own.  No one can tell you what to believe.  I told her as you grow and learn about different religions and the beliefs of others then you get to decide what you believe. 
And that is when they realized there was only one slice of bacon left and the fights started. 

Truer Words. . .

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”-  Elizabeth Stone

Truer words have never been spoken.  School started back today and I miss my babies.  I am not one of those mothers who rejoices when school is in session or when someone wants to take my child for the night.  It doesn't matter if it's just for a few hours or a short distance.  I always feel like a part of me is missing.  I bundle pieces of my heart up every morning and place them on the bus, I wave goodbye and walk back to the house - empty.  Scattered.  All day I find ways to keep myself busy slowly counting down the minutes until I can collect my bits and pieces again.  I stand at the end of the drive waiting, watching, straining to hear the sound of the bus coming up over the hill.  When the bus rolls up in the afternoon a weight is lifted off my chest; my babies are all home, my heart can start again.  I know it's a bit irrational but it seems that as long as I can see them, put my hands on them, they are safe, but the moment they wander out of sight I panic just a bit.  Something is just "off". 
Don't get me wrong, my children can also drive insane.  I want to hide in my room for a few moments of silence, but the silence that exists when they aren't around is deafening.  I enjoy them.  I need them around. I breathe easier when I can see them. 

Gonna be a busy, emotional, weekend.

• Forever 52. If you were to ask my how old my mom is, I'd answer 52.  This is completely wrong.  She's actually 57.  She turned 57 months ago. But my father died almost 6 years ago and he had just turned 52.  In my mind no one can ever be older than he was when he died.  It means that life has moved on. That time has continued to flow past me.  They say time heals all wounds, this is a lie, the truth is we just use to our circumstances. We learn to live around our grief.  The wound is still there, it still hurts, we just get used to the pain.  Tomorrow, Dec. 16th,  would have been my father's 58th birthday.  I can only imagine what it would have been like to have him with us these last few years. 

• Saturday my siblings and I will congregate at my mother's house to celebrate Christmas with the extended family, but afterward we will be having what we affectionately call "The Last Supper."  Just weeks before dad lost his fight with cancer, we celebrated Christmas with him.  He was in surprising good spirits, that may have been due to the amount of morphine he was on or the universe knew that we were losing him soon so let us have this one day of laughter.  Whatever the reason he was cheerful.  I can clearly see him sitting in the kitchen mashing potatoes.  We ate a good southern meal of liver, fried okra, mashed potatoes and biscuits.  There were fried pork chops available for the weirdos of the group who didn't eat liver.  We laughed and told stories and cooked.  It was a great day.  This Saturday there will be laughter and stories, but there will be a level of sadness.  We will all be remembering that something very important is missing from our lives. 
  

• And then there is Sunday! This Sunday will be our 12th wedding anniversary.  We don't have money to do anything special this year - who am I kidding, it's a week before Christmas so we NEVER have money to celebrate our anniversary.  But that's never been an issue for us, we usually like to just spend the day with each other.  We're both very low maintenance so we don't ever expect gifts.  We'll probably sit around being amazed that 12 years have past and we're still completely in love with each other.
  

Enjoy your weekend!

How I differ from other parents. .

I have a rule in my house - Don't take anything to school that you don't want to lose or have stolen.   It's a basic common sense kind of thing, children, even if they are teenagers, are gonna misplace, share, set down in the wrong place, or break something of value. It's what they do.  If a child of mine takes something they value to school and it gets gone, I don't care.  I tell them, well that's too bad - learn this lesson now.  I mention this today because I over heard a mother fussing about a stolen phone.  Her daughter took a phone to school and it was stolen.  And although she had no proof what so ever, she just KNEW who the culprit was and had already called the police and the district attorney who handles juvenile cases.  She was gonna get that girl. 
Here is my problem with that - Why the hell did her daughter have the phone with her?  Oh yes I'm sure I'm about to get all kinds of comments about how sweet little Susie just HAS TO HAVE her phone in school because of practice, work, "omg becky kissed johnny!"  And all I have to say to that is "waaah" - Parents across America attended school without cell phones, ipods, etc.  How did we communicate with our parents?  We made plans and/or we waited at school if those plans changed. The world hasn't changed so much that children have to have these items at school - they are a want, a luxury, and something to make life more convenient.  It's not a need.

Now I understand being angry that something was stolen. I get that no one has the right to take something that doesn't belong to them.  But I also am a big believer that most crimes are crimes of opportunity and if you don't give them the opportunity the crime won't happen.  There is a reason you don't walk down dark alleys or talk to strangers or take expensive toys to school.  It's also why on black Friday you are reminded to put purses in trunks and be careful in parking lots.  It's just common sense.  Why this woman isn't angry at her daughter is beyond me. Doesn't she have some responsibility? I'm not saying she should be punished (having her phone stolen is good punishment), but I think calling down the powers that be on a girl you have no proof against is a bit crazy.

Two little white girls and the discussion of race

Yesterday, I was helping my youngest daughter get dressed and, like for most incidents in our house, we were not alone in her room.  She and her older sister were animatedly discussing art work they had made, I joined the conversation by telling Addie that "I made that!" as I pointed to her chest.  After a moment of confusion she started laughing and in her completely childish innocence she said "Thank you for making me white, I like being white!" After a moment of stunned silence I started laughing, but then I started listening to where that comment had led the sisters' conversation.  The older Abigail started telling Addie, in a very hushed voice (as if the words she was about to  utter were so shocking they couldn't be spoken too loud) that "back a long time ago, brown people weren't allowed to use the same things as white people and they were told what to do and didn't have the same rights as us!"  Addie become quite indignant, squared her scrawny shoulders and pointed her finger into the air then declared "If I were a brown person I would say to everyone, 'We need to be friends! You can't tell me what to do, we can do the same things!'" Abigail was happy to report that "Oh but someone did Addie! His name was Martin Luther King and he said we can all be friends! He said that everyone was equal!"  Addie was silent for a moment then whispered "I like him! I bet he's old by now but I like him." That's when Abigail shook her head sadly and said "Oh he's not old, he was shot a long time ago."  At this point they bowed their heads for a moment of silence and then Abigail wanted to know why "all those good people back then" had to get shot.  I had no answer for her other than that there were always people trying to stop the good in the world, but that we can't let that stop us from trying to do the right thing for everyone.   This is the point where the brother comes in and causes conflict with his very presence so the room erupts in squeals and arguments and this very important conversation was forgotten by the children but not by me.

**photo by Gail E. Photography

Cause I know you all are wondering. . .

how life used me for goodness today - because lets be honest that's just mind blowing. And I'll also be honest and say that I know that not all of you are wondering just maybe one (Hi Mom!) PS - I'm gonna warn you know that I'm a true southerner so a story that could be summed up in a sentence will now take a very large paragraph - ENJOY :)

So my day started like any other - went for my walk as the sun came up, cleaned house, picked up the youngest from school for a doctor's appointment. After the appointment I thought I'd be a most excellent mom and take Nature Girl for some lunch at Chick-fil-a. Every thing was going perfect until we tried to leave. Evidently the car some how got locked - which is odd cause I never lock the doors cause I know that the alarm automatically comes on and my key controller no longer works to turn off my alarm.  Well just as expected I turn the key to unlock the car and the alarm comes on and of course everyone looks at me like I'm the dumb ass who can't turn off their own alarm.  The car won't start with the alarm going so I look under the hood (because I wanted everyone to think I knew what I was doing but really I was just hoping for a big button that said "turn off alarm here" - there isn't one.)  Luckily we are in the same parking lot with a Radio Shack and I had the brilliant idea that maybe my key controller just needed new batteries so the kid and I walked across the parking lot to try that - it didn't work. (now I have new batteries in a controller that doesn't work) I called the husband, cause he knows how to fix everything, and he suggested unhooking the car battery and resetting the whole system.  I was willing to do that but I had no tools in the car so again the kid and I walked across the parking lot to buy an adjustable wrench from Big lots.  (Remember folks the whole time this is happening the alarm is blaring and people are staring).  By the time I get back to the car with my handy dandy new adjustable wrenches the car is silent (which happens after the alarm has gone off for a while, but once I open the door the alarm is gonna go off again) only this time it doesn't!  It chirped twice and then gave up.  I was able to get in my car again! That's when I hear a voice behind me (and this is where I start being used for goodness) asking me if I'd help boost off a woman whose car won't start. I, of course, was willing to help because Life was just nice to me (after i spent $20 on stuff I didn't need).  So there we are, me and this young woman, trying to boost off her car and it didn't work. We spent half an hour trying to start her car but nothing was working.  Her battery was beyond dead and her kids were in the backseat crying. So I offered to give a complete stranger a ride home.  Which I think surprised her. and I'll be honest again and say that it surprised me too.  But I know what it's like to be stranded by a car in a hot parking lot with kids - it's not fun, and it's frustrating, and it feels like you've been kicked in the gut.  So yeah I gave her and her kids a ride home.  And no I didn't take the money she offered, because I didn't do it to get paid, I did it cause sometimes you've got to pay forward the blessings in life.

And now for my rant - Seriously MEN what's up with not helping women in distress?  Chick fil A is a very busy place at lunch time - construction workers, business men, your average joe - they're all there.  They all passed us.  No one offered to help two women with their hoods up.  Let me correct that - the only person to offer help was an old man who just made sure our connections were right then walked off mumbling to himself.  The only other man who approached us was the one parked beside me and all he did was grumble about us being in his way.  I know that just cause you have a penis doesn't mean you can fix a car but I've been around enough cars to know that they prefer penises.  I don't know what it is about a car but the penis seems to be the key to fixing them.

Untitled because I couldn't decide on a good one.

I'm one of those people who is amazed when someone wants to be my friend.  I suppose someone will say it's a sign of low self esteem - maybe it is - but it's not that I don't feel worthy of friendship or that I'm not a good friend, because I am worthy and I make an excellent friend (as long as you're ok with me not kissing your behind).  No, I think it's that I'm too cynical.  I assume someone wants something from me.  I wonder what is this person getting out of our relationship.  Maybe this is why I have a small circle of friends.  I know folks who have 100's of facebook friends (which I don't confuse with having real friends because too many people confuse "hey I met you that one time" with being friends) but I tend to keep making my friends list smaller and smaller.  Since moving away from my circle last year, I've started to analyze my friendships and my ability to make new ones.  I know I'm a friend who doesn't need constant contact to reaffirm that friendship.  I can go for months without seeing my friends and my friendship doesn't wane.  But maybe that's a problem.  My husband has commented a time or two that my total lack of needing others isn't always a good thing.  I think it stems from "daddy" issues and the knowledge that it hurts when those you need aren't there when you need them so it's best to not need anyone too much.   And it's not that I don't actually need any contact with the person, I just don't have to see them to know they are still my friend. Email, text, letters, carrier pigeons, smoke signals these things all work for me.  I'm not really a phone talker unless you're family, like my black sister, who I met in college, she and I can go for months without speaking then pick up the phone and it's a gab fest that ends when the children start banging on my door telling me they're starving and asking why have I disappeared for so long.  She is more friend then family; anyone who will sit beside you while you sit by your father's death bed is family.  Most of my friendships are kept strong because of the internet, which is fitting since most of my best relationships have come from the internet (husband included).  Facebook / twitter gives me the ability to communicate with my friends daily and the interstate gives me the ability to see them when group therapy is needed.
But I guess to really analyze my ability to be a friend, I need to review friendships that have ended.  Most of my former friendships ended because that's just how life happens - two roads diverged in the woods and I took one path and they another.  No fighting, no angry words, just moving in different directions.  I don't regret when this happens. At least I don't get too upset about it. It's life. I'm only sad over a few lost friendships.  One being a friend I made in middle school.  The first time I saw this chick I knew I'd hate her.  (I have a tendency to make quick judgements about people, and she was a bitch in my mind) but then we started to talk, and laugh, and that was it. She was my best friend.  We remained friends through high school (luckily our last names were close in the alphabet so we tended to be in similar homerooms) and even into college.  Again this friendship wasn't one where we had to see each other every day or one where communication was a huge issue.  We were friends, plain and simple.  And then I got married. And everything changed.  I was young and silly and thought being married meant I had to focus all my attention on my husband so there was no room or need for a friend and I turned my back on her.  I tried to do this to my black sister, but like all good family members, she wasn't having any of that and wouldn't let me phase her out.  But the friend of my youth needed me and I wasn't there for her so our friendship ended.  But luckily, through the power of facebook, I have found her again and I am so proud of the person she has become, and it makes me regret missing out on all the years that have made her the person she is.
Maybe that's what what I need to learn from this introspection of my ability to be a friend.  It's not my ability to need people that's the problem.  It's my ability to be there when others need me.   I think I'm a fairly responsible person, I think I'm the kind of person who will be there when my friends need me, but maybe knowing that I'm not always a good person keeps me from accepting friendship. 

Wow this is some deep thoughts. . . I think I'll go google some happiness to over come all this psychoanalysis crap.

Here look at this and smile - I know I did.