Afterall

I didn't grow up in some magical kingdom where everything was perfect.  We didn't have unlimited cash in hand.   My parents really weren't fancy people.  They met working in a B.F. Goodrich rubber factory where my mother's mother also worked.  Her father worked for an iron company.  My father's father was a mailman and his wife raised 9 children. My father eventually went on to be an Electrical Engineer for Consumer's Power, my mother a nurse's aid, a nurse and then she worked swing shifts in a salt factory.  She didn't work in the office, she worked on the factory floor, just like the men. 

My mom wanted nice, fancy things but, I guess she never wanted to spend the money to have them.  Because she never really bought much of any value. 

That said, my parents were pretty good people.  They raised us kids in the church, taught us to be clean, responsible, kind, considerate of others.  Now maybe that all happened by accident and maybe it was intentional, I'm not sure but regardless, here we are. 

My mother's daughters, all 5 of us, though very different, have always looked out for the little guy, helped the less fortunate, donate our time and our talents where needed.  We have always been quick to volunteer - most often without thinking!  We try very hard to help where we can, and do what we can.  

My mother's children are an extremely responsible, fiercely independent, strongly opinionated, overly determined, bunch.  We're an intelligent, well read, vastly experienced, loud bunch of givers!  

We're also a tough bunch to cross as we tend to hold our wrongs close, we have high expectations of ourselves and others.  When someone fails us, we're hard to forgive and harder to forget.   I truly pity the soul that dares try to take advantage of one of us or lies to us.  We generally sniff out a rat at 50 paces -and there is no turning back.  There is no saving yourself.   

But, when we love, we love with all that we have, all that we know and all that we can give.  We're unabashedly proud of our kids, and we are amazed by our spouses as they are often also our very best friends.  We also will not stand for anyone to take advantage of them in any way.

We're pretty quick to cut someone out when we have had enough.  But, please know by the time we have had enough, we have been stolen from, lied to, lied about, betrayed, talked about, and almost anything and everything in between and rather than hurt any more, we'll just leave you behind and go on with our lives.  You see, the pain of your betrayal is bigger than the pain of being without you. 

I'm not writing this as a threat.  I'm tired of being stabbed in the back, tired of sticking up for myself, really tired of being deceived and lied to.  You see, my momma taught me to be better than this, to not sit back and take this shit from anyone. I'm done.  I am my mother's daughter after all.

What A Fool Believes

"But what a fool believes he sees
No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing" ~ The Doobie Brothers 1979

Please forgive my attraction to 1970's song lyrics.  It's my sister's fault.  All of them. 

Anyway, what a fool believes...is always better than nothing.
  

Is it?



I have a hard time when it comes to people who believe ignorance.  People who can't make an educated opinion.  I don't understand how you can spout off some stupid shit when you don't read, you don't research and you don't listen.



For instance, the transgender bathroom debate.
"I don't want my kids in a bathroom with them."



Let's clear up a few things shall we?



News Flash:  All transgenders are NOT perverts.  They're just not.  They're not child molesters either.  Sure, there are good and bad people everywhere, even in your church (gasp!) the majority of transgender folks were/are just issued the wrong parts!  There is good and bad in ever gender, in every race, in every society.  If you believe otherwise, you're a stone fool!



That said, take into consideration if you have a male identifying female, she will use a stall because women's restrooms don't have urinals.  Females identifying as males will also use the stall because well...have you ever seen a woman trying to pee in a urinal?   Think about that a minute!  If we're all in stalls, with our eyes on our own papers, who knows what parts a under whose pants?





Let's also look into this twist, shall we?  Not everyone you meet is going to rape you, assault you or make you touch them on any way.  Frankly speaking, whatever you are, you're probably not "their" type anyway!  Don't flatter yourself!





Also, there is nothing that stops men from entering the ladies rooms (or viceversa) except for the good old honor system.  Honestly, I'm more afraid to send my son into a public restroom than I am of him having to share with a former woman.  I promise you that!



What is the solution?  Unisex restrooms for all?  Maybe.  I can tell what is not the solution.  Bigotry is not.  Bullying is not.  Segregation is not.  Extermination is not.  Look how well those ideas worked in the past!


Look at our kids.  Our kids don't see color.  They don't see hate. They don't always see cruelty. They don't see gender quite like we do, we as adults give them labels, we teach them difference and we teach them hate.  Why? 


Because we're fools and it's what we believe.

To be a reader

I am reader.  I have always been a reader and I will always be a reader.  I will always have full bookshelves, a Kindle in my desk drawer and a wish list of books a mile long.  

I remember the summer it all began, I don't remember the year but I remember it was summer and my sister Cindy had a good friend of her family who was a teacher. Cindy took me to her house to borrow some books.  It was then I met Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House in the Big Woods and I was a goner. I couldn't read that series enough. I read every book over and over and over again. I probably had them memorized. I went home the end of that summer to have my mom get me the whole set for my very own. I read them so many times I wore them out. The spines were cracked, pages were dog eared, and some even falling out.  I loved those books. 

Some Sunday mornings my mom and I would stop at the local bookstore and I'd be allowed to pick out 2 or 3 or 5 books for my very own. I read everything by Judy Blume and a few Beverley Cleary to V.C. Andrews and Danielle Steele and now Karen White, Patti Callahan Henry, Elin Hilderbrand, Robyn Carr, and so many more.  

We had a subscription to Reader's Digest once, I loved the day the new issue came in the mail. I'd read that little magazine from cover to cover, All in a Days Work, Humor In Uniform, the featured stories, every last bit.  My mom also subscribed to Guideposts which was another fave.  His Mysterious Ways was the best feature! Even a Parents magazine or Grandma Nollf's National Enquirer rag would do!  It seemed there were never enough words to be read. 

Somewhere around high school my appetite for books took a lull and I didn't read much until my early 20's.   Now I read about slavery, Civil Rights, the Holocaust, World War II, Vietnam, Ellis Island, Henry Ford, women's rights, The White House, John F. Kennedy and his assassination, things I never thought I'd have an interest in. But, I do.

I asked my husband once how he would describe me.  His answer was "well read".  I like being a reader.  I like knowing a little about a lot of topics.  I like getting lost in a book for an hour or 3.  Books kept me out of trouble, kept my mind sharp, kept some of the demons at bay.  I'm thankful I grew to be reader.  I hate to think what I would have been without. 

Thank you Betty James for introducing me to Laura Ingalls Wilder, encouraging me to read, read more and read often.  To you, I will always be grateful. 

Marriage (again)

This topic is probably the biggest, broadest most frustrating topic in all the land, well, this and parenthood.

It's an odd tradition to think about. Marriage. Take a minute - boy meets girl and there is this spark.  That's all.  It doesn't matter where they're from, what their backgrounds are, their opinions are or who their family is, there is just this undeniable magnetism, this force that pulls you together no matter the circumstances - some move across the country, across oceans to follow this spark.  Some leave their whole families behind - be it in disagreement or distance.  Some leave jobs, homes, sadly some even leave their children.  It's really something how all these changes arise from one spark.You just know you'll work all these things out...somehow.

And you do...or you think you do.  

I have been with my husband for approximately 14 years.  14 years of working things out.  Sometimes the work is really simple.  We disagree, see each other's points, apologize if needed and we move on to the next disagreement.  But, some times, there are these fights where you scream, holler and yell at each other like a 6th grader on the playground duking it out over who's on first, knowing   neither of you will ever win, completely disregarding any sort of respect for each other, totally going for the throat and there is no teacher here to save your stupid ass.  This has more than once  involved one of us packing bags, threatening "I've had enough of you" and many other horrible things and yet somehow we talk our way off this precipice and manage to mop up the mess and move on.

Some think marriage is about control, funny those who think I can control what my husband says or does. (Or God forbid he can control me) I pray to tell you, he is a man of his own mind who acts or reacts of his own accord.  And if you must know, I honestly believe he is the most stubborn, hard headed of us both. Marriage isn't all him, and it isn't all me.  I think for myself, he thinks for himself, at times we have to think for each other and all the time, we have to do what we think best on the fly.  There are many times I wonder why he reacts his way and I know he can't figure out my reactions to save his soul but, I think true key here is to call them as you see them and do what you see fit.  

We don't pretend anything between us, or around us, we are very down to Earth, realistic people.  No smoke.  No mirrors.  He sees my worst and I see his.  I can't say I'm proud of those moments but, he knows me, what I am, who I am and he loves me anyway.   I'm very blessed. 

Every marriage is different and only one of them belongs to you.  We (or I) try to remember our marriage is simply ours.  It's our success or our failure. No one else knows what goes on between us behind closed doors.  No one knows the things we see or we talk about, things we do or don't do. It's easy to judge someone else's relationship (even easier when you're a parent) but the hardest thing to remember is these things oftentimes have to play out for the lessons to be learned.  

When it's my turn.

The saddest thing I can imagine is being at the end of a life and not having a true soulmate, a confidant, a best friend that knows you, your secrets, and your fears enough to finish your sentences for you.   

Sometimes, I'm sad to not have a best female friend at this point in my life but, I am blessed to have married a man that listens to me and hears me, who hugs me when I cry, laughs at me when I laugh at myself and is willing to go along with whatever shenanigans I can think of. 

I have had a few best friends along the way.  I wish I could go back and handle the hiccups differently than I did.  Maybe those friendships would have been stronger...maybe they just went the way of fate.  I don't know.

And well, there are a few goofballs around to keep me in laughs and I am ever so thankful for them too!   I know there are a few of you who can finish my sentences and I hope you'll be there for me one day to do just that.

I think a lot these days about when I die.  How I'll handle myself when it's my turn. If I die slowly, I'll do this.  And if I die suddenly, I want to be sure to have always done this or that.  

I think about my son, and all the things he needs to know to live without a mom. Every day, I make sure I tell him how much I love him. I think that is the biggest, most important thing he always needs to know no matter how I leave him.  

I think about my husband and our life together and honestly, I can't write everything here...well...because I only want him to hear what I have to say. 

And my siblings.  Siblings are the strangest of relationships aren't they?  I have 5 of them...each of us from the very same parents yet all so very different and yet some of the very same. I think of my sister, dying from Cancer, and how I'd handle that if it were me.  She's not me and I'm not her.

I'd like to think if I were dying, you'd all come forward, make me laugh, make me cry and help me remember all the dumb shit we did together as kids (or as adults).  I'd also like to think I would take my time to put out some apologies.  I have regrets at 42, I'll have more at 52, 62, 72 and God forbid 82!  I hope I'll have courage enough to make things right where I can.

It is sad to think about death.  I didn't want to bury my sister when I was 10, my dad at 26, my mom at 41 or another sister here at 42.  God didn't ask me what I wanted.  He didn't ask me if I wanted a best friend but, all in all, he gave me the best friends.  

Whelmed?

"I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?"  ~ Bianca Stratford - 10 Things I Hate About You

It's a good question, isn't it?

I had about a week and a half off over Christmas and it was wonderful.  We didn't make any plans or take any trips, it was so nice just to relax and home, together and really to just BE.

I don't remember a time in my life where I've felt so full, so much and yet not be able to write freely, without consequence as I do now.  The choices and the changes I'm going through now are not mine so I can't openly share all of them here and it's really hard for me...yet I know it's just not my story to tell. 

Christmas was unusual, perplexing and almost inexplicable (I had a little fun on Google finding these words) for me this year.  I wasn't into the spirit, the spending, the tradition or magic of it all this year.   Our tree was down and all evidence of Christmas removed by the Monday after.  Not at all like me!  We did our normal dinner/snacks but, there wasn't a special "really wanted" gift for Jacob this year and it seemed to be a 'going through the motions' type thing for me.  I think that contributed to the lack of lacking this year.

Is it just us or did last year end with this huge pile of upheaval?  For us, it was another new job and even less money for Jeremy (better benefits and advancement though), my sister being diagnosed with stage IV Adenocarcinoma (soft tissue cancer), my responsibilities at work shifting and...a...long term house guest - which, I'm not going to lie, it's extremely hard/heart wrenching for me to watch this one play out.  And then our every day normal on top of all that. Y'all, this girl is overwhelmed!

And then I look back at last year, And I was just as overwhelmed.  I had lost my mom, I was terribly, excruciatingly angry with her, Jeremy left his job, I was thinking about leaving my job and a huge spot of my damned hair fell out!

Oh, I almost forgot, my corporate credit card was compromised too!

When does it stop?  When does it get easier?  When does the success outweigh the challenges?  When do I get to be just whelmed?