Untaken Pictures

Last night, I went our friend Claudia Wilson's house to pick up this book for my mother for Mother's day. Momma and Claudia have been dear friends since before I was born. The book is written by Claudia and is called The Untaken Pictures. Claudia described the book title to me several months ago. She said she named it because if you were to look in her photo albums at home, you'd never ever know what was really happening in their lives. All the people wore smiles and nice clothes. What she's writing about is the stuff behind those smiles: the abuse she suffered, the extreme poverty, the sadness those pictures didn't show. She talks a little about my mother in this book. She mentions how Momma offered her friendship and clothing when she had neither. I love that she did that. My mother will (of course) be thrilled. Doesn't matter if Claudia sells two or two million copies of this book. This book is a treasure for our whole family because we all love the person who wrote it. She is as down to earth as her writing. She's what we call "good people".(Claudia & Momma)

I like visiting Claudia's home. She is very creative, using bits and pieces of different items to make unusual beautifully crafted decorations. She's pretty gifted there. My mom has that sort of taste. The two of them are like little scrap crafting MacGyvor's. Give 'em an old door jam and some Q-Tips and they'll make a coffee table with built-in bookshelves. Only, Momma's not so good with her hands any more. When I go to Claudia's, I look around and sort of see what my mom could have been; how my mom would have decorated if she had the means or agility to work with her hands like that anymore. (Her hands shake a lot, and they hurt.) Claudia lets me poke around her home and admire to my hearts content. I got extra hugs in last night and of course stayed longer than I had planned. She's just a joy to be around.

I'll be reading her book tomorrow in the waiting room as I wait for my husband to come out from his procedure for WPW. I know this is a pretty common procedure, and I know that I'm supposed to say that I'm certain that everything will be just fine. I (we) have nothing to worry about.

But that's bullshit, honestly, I'm terrified. I just want this to be over with and not have to worry or think about ever losing him. I'm not functioning too well today. I'm a complete mess. I know it's a routine procedure, but not for us. It's never routine for your husband to be brought to a cardiologist so he can burn anything on his heart. I don't care how many times 'they've' done it before, we've never experienced it and I'm fucking scared. I keep thinking that WE have manly un-taken pictures. So much more to do together... This man is my everything...

Any prayers thrown his way would be appreciated. I will try to be calm about this. My head is telling me that "everything will be fine, they know what they are doing, he's in good hands, it's a routine procedure....blah, blah, blah....".

But my heart is just screaming.

Caught!!!

Lookie who I caught in the fridge!!?? Can you see why I call him Menace!?? Have a wonderful weekend!!

10 Little Polar Bears

My Silly Girl turned seven years old last Friday.

SEVEN.

I'm still too tired to dwell on it...seems like yesterday when they handed me that cute little pink package of poo & goo.

But I'm not going to get sentimental today. That was last week. Today, I'm all about telling you how we celebrated!

I need to start this by telling you we're broke. When I say BROKE...I mean we had next to nothing to give little Miss Silly Girl a birthday party. My ex husband (Mr Potato Head) usually goes in 50/50 for the birthday parties, which is more than many ex's contribute, I know. However, like I said, we're broke.

I began pricing birthday places to hold a decent, yet affordable, shindig for my Silly. Guess what...there is NO SUCH THING in our area. I looked up Pump It UP, (not linking them because...please...they don't need the linky love)and they want a minimum of $250.00 for two hours on a weekend. We're talking blow up jumpy things, people! This is not live entertainment or rocket science! That's crazy! That doesn't include the cake, the presents, the drinks, the eats...

Cross that one off my list.

The usual suspects of places to hold parties were actually CLOSED. As in, no longer doing business. Dammit!!

Okay...new ideas...a skating party, a bowling party, a gymnastics party....all too much. At least, too much for us this month. (That's a whole other post!!)

"We...did...just...clean...out...the...pool..." says an awful, stupid, wretched voice in my head. "Pool equals free" continues the voice. "Then you could afford a cake...party favors...food...breakfast.."

WHAT? I'm NOT having them spend the night, I'm not CRAZY after all.

"Insanity is in your blood. Think of how much fun She'd have."

True, on both counts.

Crazy or not, that's exactly what we did.

We invited everyone, even the ex-in-laws, to partake in her wonderful number seven. There was cookie cake, hamburgers, chips, drinks, and money to spare. (I get the burgers cheap from work, and love the bread outlet around the corner!) The house was packed...the presents overflowed...the Girl was happy.

When the adults and boys left, I was left with 10 little girls who spent the night.

TEN. Tenscreamingloudfartingcrazydancing little girls. Damn, I must seriously be nuts.

Friday night, they all went swimming despite the 68 degree water, and chill in the air. After a night of twister, crafts, and goofy dancing, they woke up one by one to chocolate chip pancakes. And then they began lining up at the back door in swimsuits.

They were up for more freezing water...I couldn't talk 'em out of it...they were too excited. They went out at 10am Saturday morning and stayed out until the party ended at two. My neighbors just LOVE me!

The kids had a blast. I'd do it again in a heart beat. But I'd pray for warmer weather!!!

















Click on any picture for a larger view.

Flashback

The summer after my mom took the 'leap', my two sisters and I were sent to live with my grandparents. Anyone who remembers the story of my mom would know that I pretty much witnessed my mom take the plunge. I began to wet the bed at night. I was barely three, and I just lost my mother (to the hospital) and my surroundings. My old school grandfather George punished me for wetting the bed. First, he put me outside in a dish towel pinned on the sides in a makeshift diaper. And only that. For a week. When that failed to cure me, he tried a new method. He put a dunce cap on my head and made me stand in the corner, behind the TV, for hours. (Grandma let me sit down when he wasn't watching.) When the TV began to mess up...what else does a three year old do with knobs on the back of a television??........I was further punished. I was spanked and made to wear the dunce cap outside in front of everyone. The dunce cap looked like a cone shaped wizard hat, made of cardboard, with the word DUNCE written on it. I carried that feeling of not being too bright through my childhood, into my teens. I never realized how wrong he was until I was in college and he was too dead for me to tell him what an ass he was. Every once in a while I still cower, if only inside.

The Brave, the Scary, and the Nice

The Brave:I have found some posts that I personally think are incredibly candid or candid-esque if you will. I wanted to point you in the direction of some fantastic posts I've read recently. Posts that don't appear to hold much back if at all. Some posts out there floor me and simply commenting on them isn't quite enough for me. I don't presume to think I'm any critic or anything like that. But I do think these are great. The reason this started is because The Queen of Mayhem put it out there with her post that was closed to comments. I wanted to wave my flag of agreement and tell her woo-freakin-hoo and way-to-go and could not. I thought her post was incredibly candid, to the point, rock-on. And I wanted to tell her so. So here it is...if you haven't read it yet. I admire her conviction. Very very much.

Unapologetic

Here are some other posts that made me feel. When I read them, it was as if I was reading their hearts:

Surrender (Wonderfully honest post about IVF and what she went through to get Super B)

So Far Away (Incredibly well written and to the heart post about her Grandma)

It was my intention to include more and more posts, but this week went incredibly wrong. From this moment on, if I read it and love it, I'm linking it here.

The Scary:
My husband called me at work last Tuesday, in the middle of my busy-week-from-hell, to tell me this: "The doctor said at best I have a one in 1000 chance of having a cardiac arrest and dying and at worst it's a one in 300 chance." (Cue that screeching sound when someone rips the needle from the record...)

What?!?

After much stuttering and googling, I discovered that he has Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. In a nut shell, it means that he has a heart that doesn't rest. It beats once, normally, and then from another place in his heart it sends out another signal and beats again. The fear is that the second 'beat' could stall the heart and he could die. Now I freaked out about this, was stunned to tears all of Tuesday and half of Wednesday. But the fact is that he was born with this condition and he's had these same odds all of his life. Doesn't make it any less scary....but it does make me glad I, um, insisted that he go to the doctor when I did. The result is that he can have that spot where that extra electrical beat begins burnt off (through a wire or catheter inserted in his leg) and this will pretty much go away. Worst case scenario is that his heart will stop as a result of the surgery. (Depends upon where the extra beat begins) But if his heart were to stop, I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather him be than laying in front of a heart surgeon. And they'll have a pace maker standing by....

The Nice: (!)
Tracey Treasure at Green Eyed Mama sent me some jewelry and a beautiful purse because I entered this give-a-way. She's a sweetheart. She sent two pair of earrings, a purse, and a bracelet last week. Aren't they nice?














In addition to the pictures above, she also sent an extra pair of silver hoops that are just beautiful! (My camera isn't cooperating or I'd include a picture of them, too!) Tracey is incredibly sweet. She also sent a card, and an warm note that had a dime attached to it from the year I was born for luck! For LUCK!! As if I wasn't feeling lucky enough! I cannot say enough nice about Tracey. She went above and beyond and then some! She's getting a cheesecake as soon as I have a minute to catch a breath! (I've been making them for a while...I promise she'll be happy!) You don't come across people like Tracey very often. I'm so glad I found her!

At the end of the week we opted to go out of town for a family visit in Texas. I have so much to catch up on this week! I'm a jonzin' for some blog readin'!!

First Rant Revisited

(Not for little eyes!)
If I'm holding a door open for you at the QuickMart or the Gas&Sip, say "thank you"! Pick a language! "Gracias" will do! I'm so astounded at the rate at which common courtesy has become a rarity!!

Okay, so I'm holding the door open the other day and this lady just walks right out of the store. I have two cases of soda and a bag of 'stuff' I've just purchased and this lady just walks right past my nice-ness and doesn't even look up. Not a thank you, not a piss off, nothing. To her, the world just owes her an open door or two, I think.

At that very moment, the inner yamerer wanted to trip the bitch and chunk a case on her head. But. That wouldn't be polite, now would it?

Same thing goes for another night at another store. This time I'm holding the door for a gentleman...just a bit younger than myself....who passed through my nice gesture and said absolutely nothing. This one looked me in the eye. Not one thank you. His friend followed. Same deal.

Here's the deal, folks. I've noticed that not too many people open doors for you anymore. Not too many people say thank you at that. I've been to restaurants where my co-workers do not thank their waiter (or waitress). Lost is the politeness I was raised with. Makes a nice person like me want to bitch slap them and yell. "YOU'RE FUCKING WELCOME!!"

I don't do that. I value my freedom. A bit.

Instead, I have taken it upon myself to teach my children how to hold open a door. I have shown them how to be polite in a restaurant. I gave them my parents manners. I cannot guarantee that they will be as nice to those rude people out there when they grow up. If I were you, I'd protect my kids and teach them manners.

But what the heck do I know?

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To celebrate my One Year Blog-A-Verse-R-EEEE I have re-posted the above. (it's late, of course!) This was my first attempt at blogging...and my first rant...my first free therapy. I considered removing the profanity, but then decided to leave it as-is. I have come to understand within the last year that I can express myself just as well with less swearing. I love my blog and my bloggy friends. It's turned out to be so much better than a place to let my past go. It's tuned into a place to meet new friends, see new perspectives, laugh and cry with my Internet siblings. Thank you all for a wonderful year!!

-Candid

Finally Friday

In the middle of my nightmares of the pool and the toddler....I've been awakened at all hours by thunder most of the week.

April showers my ass. More like April downpours and hail storms. There is a certain point in the weather in Oklahoma where it seems like God just pulls the plug on the drain and we get it all. At once.

I woke early Tuesday morning to crashing banging sounds. Serious hail. There is a skylight in the bathroom off of my bedroom and WOW that was loud. We have a vaulted ceiling in our bedroom, too. Sounds and looks great, right? Um...no. If there were an attic above us the hail the size of golf balls would have been muffled a bit. Maybe.

We have three kids under ten trying to sleep through this clanging and banging and noisy hell above us. Doesn't work that way! Especially with the thunder that sounds like it's thisclose to you. And lightening that lights up the whole house.

Yeah, we uncovered the pool just in time for the hail to splosh into it like little bombs. Would have been fun to watch if I weren't so afraid that a tornado wouldn't wrench our house off it's foundation at any minute. They say that a tornado watch is better than a tornado warning. But I don't exactly agree. Watching for one to show itself all night is worse than knowing where is is and either getting out of it's way or taking cover. I'm prepared to take cover. I'm not so good at wearily listening for sirens and/or watching the news for updates...seeing circular patterns in the 'storm warning' announcements. It's enough to make you want a drink or ten.

Truth be told, I don't drink hardly at all anymore. But after being jolted awake by the hail then thunder, watching the news to see how far the nearest circulation is, when the watch will expire, pacing back and forth from you window's to your kids beds, deciding which mattress you're going to take from what bed to cover your children in the tub...it's exhausting.

I see a margarita in my future.

We drained about six inches off of the pool this week. And it's still full.

The wind was so incredibly strong yesterday that it was a struggle to stay on the highway on the way home. We were being tussled around like little matchbook cars.

The forecast for this weekend says sunny and in the mid 60's all weekend long. Bring it on!