Monthly Archives: June 2012

How old am I, again?

Posted on June 29, 2012 by Life and all things love

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Some days I feel old, old and motherly. I am married. I work full-time, 8am to whenever, five days a week. I pay bills. I have a delightful mortgage. I cook. I clean. I do laundry. I wipe noses and butts. I change diapers. I give baths. I fill sippy cups, and I answer to the name Mommy, a million times a day.

Then there are days, I wake up, and I think, “My God, what has happened? I can’t really be 31! I’m sixteen. OMG! How did I get here? Whose house is this? Why am I in bed with a strange man and why are two little people pulling and tugging at me, calling ME-MOMMY! For crying out loud, I am still in high school. I can’t even legally vote, and I just got my learner’s permit. Is this my penance for watching Big one to many times? I had a mad crush on Tom Hank’s. Come on, who could resist that hair?

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My fingers could have got lost in his hair…

I find a closet, and go bumming, before strange man with stubble, wakes up. To my dismay, everything in this closet could belong to my mother. Tops and Blouses all symmetrical, skirts all A-line and knee-length. Pants are pleated and professional. Shoes all dressy and flat, or heel much to high. Doesn’t this gal ever dress down? I continue to dig and plunder until I find a pair of grey jersey shorts, a cotton t-shirt, and old pair of yellow running shoes.

I start to undress and I’m mortified. This CAN NOT be my body! Everything positioned North of my navel is now migrating South and well, everything, positioned south of my navel is migrating south as well. I inspect further and find cellulite heaped in piles, from my derriere to the back of my knees. Google Earth could use the marks stretched across my abdomen as national landmarks. I run my fingers across my face, it feels familiar, but not the same. My hair is no longer cropped short but falls in layers past my shoulders.

My anxiety level is surging from moderately upset to over the top frantic. I am borderline nervous breakdown.

I look for a phone, and all I find is a miniature version, it’s not small enough to be a toy, but not large enough to fit my 1990′s profile of cordless phone. I push talk and get a dial tone. Bingo! I dial my home number pushing each button with confidence. It rings, and rings, and rings. No answer! Where is my Mother? Does she know I am in the company of complete strangers? Maybe she’s on her way to pick me up, right now.

I find my way into the hallway, sit down by the door, and begin to wait patiently for my ride. I nervously drum my fingers. I twirl my hair, around and around. I bite my nails almost to the quick. I wish I had a Lisa Frank notebook to doodle in. You know the one’s with unicorns and lipstick wearing Panda Bears. I wish I had my CD player with headphones so I could listen to the Counting Crows. Shoot, I bet I’m missing Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Where are you Mom???

Just as I am about to get up and go outside, the strange man claiming to be my husband has found me. He’s only wearing boxers and he has really ugly toes. UGH!

“What are you doing?”. He practically yells at me! Jerk!

“What does it look like I’m doing? I am going home,” I snap equally irritated.

“Mommy, Mommy, where you going?”. Great the little people, have found me again. They look so sweet in just their diapers and underwear. I could kiss their little toes, one by one.

Wait! I take a deep breath and try to process this all. Could this really be my life? It’s not exactly what I had imagined growing up. I thought I would marry Prince William and live in a castle. Could this really be my husband? He doesn’t look like Prince William, but he does look good in just his boxer’s. I guess I could have done worse. At least, he’s tall.

What about the little people? Could they really be my children? I could not have done any better! One boy. One Girl. Ten toes each and ten fingers each. Healthy. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Perfection.

I begin to feel dizzy and disoriented. I feel like I’m fighting my way thru a dense fog with only my hands to guide me. My life slowly comes into focus. I am indeed 31. Strange man in boxers, belongs to me, and I to him, and little people are ours. This is my life, not what I had imagined, but better!

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , , | 10 Comments

First Crush in more ways than one..

Posted on June 26, 2012 by Life and all things love

I knew the day would come, when my son’s heart would no longer beat just for me.

I knew the day would come, when his hand would reach for someone else’s to hold.

I knew the day would come, when his arms would wrap around someone else’s neck, and his lips would kiss someone else’s cheek.

I just did not expect to see the day so soon, for him and for me.

He fell in love on Sunday

and I fell apart before Monday

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This is how my son looks when he takes a picture with me. No smile. No enthusiasm. Bored.

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This is his new love. Notice the difference in my son from bored with me, to ear-to-ear grinning, happy, with this gal. I am crushed!!

Categories: Life, Mommy Tales | Tags: , , , , , , | 11 Comments

From the view of a Ford Thunderbird

Posted on June 21, 2012 by Life and all things love

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My parent’s purchased a 1979 Ford Thunderbird brand, spanking new, two years, before I was born. It was candy-apple red with snow-white leather interior, and the frame was longer than a night in jail.

My mom loved the Thunderbird, and it suited her so well, all leather and chrome. My parents kept the car for years, and I practically grew up in the car. I didn’t love the car itself, but I did love where it could take me.

Back in those days, children of my age, were not restrained in car seats or confined by seat belts. My brother was older, so he got the coveted privilege of sitting up front with my mother. Somehow riding up front made you cooler and more mature. I didn’t mind sitting in back. I would scoot from side to side, looking all around, at the world we passed by; houses, mountains, hills, rolling pastures and the occasional Moo Cow. My eyes, scanning from side to side, and the occasional front to back, taking it all in. I never wanted to look straight ahead at the perfectly striped road before us. It was too mundane and offered so little. No, I needed to see more, more of what the world held, and not another car or black asphalt.

Then, every time, halfway through the car ride, my stomach would start to ache and the car would begin to spin. I was no longer a backseat passenger of a Ford Thunderbird, but a carnival goer strapped to the tilt-a-whirl. Mom would tell me to lay down. She would roll the windows down or crank up the A/C, but it would always be too late. My lunch would rise to my throat, and spew from my mouth, at lightening speed, coating the interior. Unfortunately, for my Mother and the Thunderbird, I wasn’t coordinated enough to hurl out the window, and my mom wasn’t quick enough to pull over on the side of the road in time. Eventually, I became quite proficient in hurling into paper bags or towels, but it was too late for the back seat. It had already been stained a light pink, no longer a glistening snow-white.

I hated getting car sick, but I couldn’t give up my car rides, and I couldn’t follow my Mom’s advice.

“Tammy, if you would only look, straight ahead, and not all around, I promise you, you would not get sick.”

Only if I had listened to my mother, but I couldn’t do it. I could not stop looking at everything around me, and not what laid directly in front of me.

Luckily, I outgrew, the whole motion sickness thing, for the most part. From time to time, I still get car sick, and I still could not ride the tilt-a-whirl without puking. Yet, I still get sick from my surroundings, but it’s not from the view of a 1979 Ford Thunderbird. No, my sickness is from a very old disease, called Envy.

It is so easy for me to look around and get down. I look at some of my friend’s and I think, why couldn’t I be pretty like them? I look at their houses and I think, Why couldn’t I have a house like theirs? Why couldn’t my children be as well-behaved as The Duggers? Why couldn’t I wrHite like this blogger or this Author? Why couldn’t I have a voice like Carrie Underwood’s or a tush like Jennifer Lopez’s? Why? Why?

I get so tied up in looking around, that I get down, and defeated. My vision is blurry, and I have trouble seeing what’s directly in front of me; all my, many, many, blessings that are too abundant to count, and the path that’s paved just for me. The one, that only I, can travel.

I just simply need to heed my mother’s advice, from all those years ago, “Get your eyes of your surroundings everyone else and focus on what’s in front of you.”

otherwise, you will be car sick, unhappy, and your road will go untraveled. A destination never achieved.

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , | 7 Comments

Since we said Hello..

Posted on June 18, 2012 by Life and all things love

It’s true what they say, “The biggest and best surprises, come in the smallest packages!”.

I had two.

One that weighed seven pounds exactly and 19 1/4 inches long, a baby girl.

The other weighed 7 lbs and 13 ounces and 19 3/4 inches long, a little boy,

and the surprises haven’t stopped since we said hello!

 

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They do things I would never want to do…

 

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They do things I would like to do…I HATE cats!

 

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Who says little boys shouldn’t wear make-up??

 

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I never graduated from preschool. I never went. Yeah, Lauryn!

 

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I always land on my rear…

 

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me not so much…

 

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me, not so much….

 

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The biggest surprise of them all, they love me too…

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 6 Comments

I Did Something Bad!

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Life and all things love

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Pshh! I’ve done something bad, very, very bad! It’s downright criminal and certainly illegal.

I’m sure some people will say I’ve snapped like a twig during a long, thirsty, drought. Some will make excuses for me, “Poor thing! She had no other choice. Anyone would have done the same thing under the circumstances. You know she comes from a broken home.” Some people will have no tolerance for their excuses for my behavior or for my reasoning. “Crazy-blonde Girl! What was she thinking? I always knew she was a little unhinged. You could see it in her eyes, all green and beady!”

The truth is I did “SNAP”! I did go a little CRAZY, and I might be a tad bit, UNHINGED. I got tired of the constant browbeating, harassment.

“You’re not really going to wear that, are you? “

“You look hideous! Your hair is too long, your skin is too pale and when you walk, your thighs are so large, they sound like thunder over Louisville before the KY Derby.”

“What? Run a marathon? You can barely walk briskly without hyperventilating.”

“You want to write a novel? You can’t even write a decent short story.”

“Travel over seas? You will surely drink the water and DIE!”

So, I did what every self-respecting girl would do! I bound and gagged my inner voice and I stuffed her in my bedroom closet.

Gasp! ” You didn’t?”

“Oh Yes, I did!!”

“Why?”

Do you really have to ask? I needed her to see things my way. I needed her to understand my point of view and it’s the only way I could get her to shut up! Once my inner voice stopped all the muffled protests, I began to talk and she had to listen

Okay! So, I never had a date for prom. My clothes don’t always match. I occasionally get pimples and my thighs are larger than they once where, but I am not hideous. I did eventually get a date, and then a husband, and as far as my thighs go, they should be bigger. My body was invaded by human fetuses twice. I carried both children for 41 weeks each and gave birth to a healthy, bouncing, baby boy and a healthy, beautiful, baby girl. So, get off my back and thighs.

Alright, inner voice, I understand your concerns when it comes to me running a marathon. I know I am a little out of shape. I don’t hyperventilate when I walk briskly. I just breathe really hard, and, yes, someday I will run a marathon. Maybe not a full marathon, just a half. When I do, I will be ready. I will train and train, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. I will not hyper-ventilate or pass out from exhaustion, so why don’t you go run a marathon yourself and leave me alone!

I am 31 years old and I have never stepped foot on foreign soil. I know, it’s sad. Unfortunately, for me, I am afraid, No, terrified to fly! I grew up in the eighties and can remember several horrific plane crashes. I know my odds of being in an accident are greater in a car versus a plane, but I feel my odds of survival would be greater in a car accident versus a plane crash. Okay, I’ll just blame it on faulty thinking or Alanis Morisette. Remember these faithful words to her song ironic:

Mr. Play it Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole d*mn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
“Well, isn’t this nice…”
And isn’t it ironic…don’t you think

I don’t wanna be ironic but there is so much of the world I would like to see before I die. When I am old and gray, bedridden in a nursing home and all I have left is a spotty long-term memory, I would like to recall the time my husband and I explored the Egyptian pyramids and the sphinx and sang “Walk like an Egyptian” the whole time. I need the memory of us outrigger canoeing on the neon-lit turquoise waters of Bora Bora Island to keep me daydreaming or the night we spent in Venice cruising along the Grand Canal passing under delicate bridges and by stunning palaces to keep romance alive and well in my aged heart. I need to fly, soon! So, inner voice be ready we will soar with the eagles and float with the clouds and I promise I will not drink the water. I will only drink beverages from an air tight can or poured from a sealed bottle, and I will get vaccinated. I promise inner voice, so you can either go with me or stay in my bedroom closet. It’s your choice.

Egyptian Pyramids

Bora Bora Island

Venice, Italy

Yes, inner voice, I dream of writing a novel. Yes, I am aware that my knowledge of writing does not extend past the general education requirements of College English 101 and 102. Yes, I have never enrolled in a creative writing class or participated in a writing workshop, but inner voice, I love, love to write. I know I will never pen a New York Times best seller. Anything I write will more than likely go unpublished, indefinitely, but the only way to NOT write a novel is to NOT write. So, I am going to write, and write and write and I will remember these inspiring literary facts:

It took American Author, Kathryn Stockett, five years to complete The Help. It was rejected by SIXTY literary agents before one agreed to represent her. Per Wikipedia, The Help has since been published in 35 countries and three languages, and as of August 2011, The Help has sold Five million copies and has spent more than 100 weeks on The New York Times Best Seller list. This tells me inner voice that rejection does not always equal “Your work SUCKS.” Do not let rejection bring you down and persevere.
<;;/

So, I have not even written a short story, Stephenie Meyer had never written even a short story before Twilight. She had even considered going to law school, because she felt she had no chance of becoming a writer. Her only professional work was as a receptionist in a property company. Now, due to the success of her wildly popular Twilight Series, she has gained worldwide recognition and sold over 100 million copies globally, with translations into 37 different languages. She ranked #49 on Time Magazine’s list of the “100 most Influential People in 2008:, and was included in the Forbes Celebrity 100 list of the world’s most powerful celebrities in 2009, entering at #26. Her annual earnings exceeded $50 million and, in 2010, Forbes ranked her as the #59 most powerful celebrity with annual earnings of $40 million. Therefore, inner voice, what were you saying about my lack of short story writing?
Stephenie Meyer

“Now, inner voice, have you begun to see things my way?”

Muffle, groan. Muffle, groan.

“I’m sorry inner voice, but I am having trouble hearing you. Maybe I’ll just leave you in the closet, a while longer!”

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Love, Marriage and Baby Carriage’s!

Posted on June 11, 2012 by Life and all things love

I met the man I would marry, when I was a sophomore in college at the ripe, young, age of twenty. He was tall, thin, and wispy. The sun had painted his face and arms a deep brown, and his baby, blue eyes shone like a beacon in the night among his finely chiseled bone structure. I was drawn to the way he carried himself, all legs and shoulders, with a hint of complexity that could be mistaken for shyness or arrogance. I felt like I had played my hand long enough to know, when I needed to hold and when I needed to fold, and I fully intended to hold onto him for a very long time.

I know! What was I thinking? I was still a BABY, barely out of diapers, and I had went and fallen in love. Love could wait, right? There was so much yet I hadn’t done, so much I needed to see, but love rarely waits. The timing, the attraction, the emotions, and the willingness for vulnerability all have to show up and be present or else; it dissipates; it moves on; it finds someone new. I couldn’t or should I say, didn’t, want to take that risk. When he asked to have and hold me forever, I did not hesitant. I leaped toward holy matrimony with both eyes and feet firmly planted forward.

So, imagine this madly, deeply in love girl, whom would have walked toward the end of the ocean, wrapped the moon and stars in cellophane and gift wrap, for the man, who placed a platinum engagement ring on her finger, sitting in a sociological statistics class, under a quirky red-haired professor whose favorite topic of research and discussion was marital satisfaction. I’ll never forget the day she showed us one of her pretty little graphs with horizontal and vertical lines flagged with dips and dives. Her graphs illustrated how marital satisfaction deteriorated the longer you were married, and by the number of children you bore. The greater the number of children, the lower your marital satisfaction ranked. I was in HELL!

Considering, I was as green as a four-leaf clover on the first day of spring, when it came to marriage, you can just imagine the fear and panic I felt from this class. I desperately wanted my marriage to work. I wanted us to be happy and live happily ever after until the end of time; until our hearts stopped beating and our lungs drew their last breath.

Yes, I was naive. I was hopeful and FRANTIC! I wanted, no, I needed to know what made a marriage work before I said “I do”? What was the glue that held it all together? Why did some marriages work and why did some not?

Thus, began my life long research project. I began to dissect, over analyze, and over think every married relationship I had ever came in contact with, from those that had lasted 35 plus years to those that had stayed married less than six months. I took everything I knew about their lives and their love, and multiplied, divided and factored, trying to come up with some magical formula. Okay, so 1 man with traditional beliefs and frugal spending habits plus 1 woman with conservative views and frugal spending habits equaled 1 happy marriage. Hah! Only if it was that simple. Love bites. Love hurts. Love is beautiful. Love is Messy, but simple it is not!

The more I researched the more confused I became. Seemingly happy couples who did nothing but love, hug and pat, would unravel at that seams without a single snag, and then there were those couples that seethed misery, never had a nice word to say about their spouse, and the less time they spent together the better, would last till death came knocking. The only thing that made sense was love doesn’t make sense. The only answer I received is that, “Well, umm, it’s complicated.” Really? Complicated? Hmm…

My lack of understanding didn’t stop me from saying “I do”. I walked, actually I ran down the aisle, with a head full of ill conceived notions about this thing called “love”. I full-fistedly held onto the idea that as long as I loved enough, as long as I did everything in my power to make him happy, from saying yes when I wanted to say no, having a five course meal waiting for him when he got home from work, clothes clean, house spotless, and a pearly white smile plastered across my face at all times, then I could be the glue that held us togther.

I laugh as I write this, because being a Stepford wife didn’t work for me and it didn’t work for us! By the time, our one year anniversary rolled around, I had had enough. I wanted to throw our left over freezer burnt wedding cake out the door, and me with it. I was exhausted and much to my dismay, I had discovered that it didn’t matter what I did or didn’t do. Love was something that could not be forced or contained. It could not be bought or sold. It’s there or it’s not.

Thank God, for the most part love has always been there between us. So what, if it feels a lot like a wild, roller coaster ride most days. One day, we are coasting to the top, arms stretched out wide and high, enjoying the glorious view, and the next day, we are barreling toward the bottom, screaming, long and loud, and fed up! But, we never stop. We never give up. We never get off. We just keep going; up and down; up and down.

Why am I sharing all this you ask? May be it’s nostalgia. My husband and I, will be married almost a decade on the fourteenth. Do I feel like I have this whole love and marital satisfaction thing figured out? No! Am I glad I took a chance anyway? Yes! Will we be together another 9 years or 99 years? I don’t know. My crystal ball cracked and broke years ago. I have no clue what the future holds, at all, but I hope he’s still holding my hand, all the way, to the very end.

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Categories: Life, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 13 Comments

Is Grey My New Favorite Color?

Posted on June 7, 2012 by Life and all things love

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My love for books comes in all different sizes. It comes in all different shapes and textures. Hardcover, paperback, and e-reader. Large print or small print. My love for books, also, comes in many colors, except for the many Shades of Grey. Yes, that’s right! I read the fifty shades of Grey trilogy, too, but love wasn’t quite the emotion I felt during or afterwards.

It seems like for months now, I have been faced with the same question, “Have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?”. I would answer, “Umm…No!”. I hated to see the look of disappointment, plastered across their assuming faces. I really hated to say no! I hated that I didn’t have an opinion. Then I would watch in amusement, as their faces would shift from Dissappointment, because we could not bond over a mutual read, to light up like a Christmas tree excitement, because now I get to persuade you to read them. They would almost always, lean in real close, and whisper, ever so softly, like I have a dirty, little, secret to tell you, and begin their justification. Fifty Shades of Grey is definetly not a secret, unless you are a bona fide hermit, that has absolutely no contact with the outside world, what so EVER, but I do know now that Fifty Shades of Grey is D-I-R-T-Y!

Last Saturday, with a daunting eight hour car ride stretched out before me, I couldn’t think of a better way to waste the time away, with nothing, other than, a good read. I decided to bite the bullet, and download the first book in the triolgy. It has to be good, right? EVERYONE is talking about them! 30% into the book, I began to freak out! You have to be kidding me? People like this? I picture the Bronte sisters or Hemmingway dying another death! This is what Modern literature has resolved to? Something must be wrong with me! It must get better, it must! There has to be something of substance in these books, so I threw myself back into the trenches, and forged deeper into the shades of Grey.

I would like to report, that it did indeed get better, or my standards simply, plummeted. For some unknown reason, I had a desire to keep reading; call it intrigue or call it curiosity. I’m just not sure, but my lack of insight bothered me. I asked a couple of people who loved the series, “Why did you like it so much?”, and this is the response I received, “It’s just so different from anything I have ever read before.”. I would have to agree. Usually pornography is images and videos not mainstream literature.

After further introspect, I came to the conclusion, I do not love the books, Like, possibly? Yes, but my reasoning is still rooted in Love. I kept reading, because I yearned to see Love, turn a kinky, whip lashing, cane carrying, Sadist into a heart doodling, flower sending, jewelry buying, boyfriend. I wanted to see love conquer all. Luckily, for me I reaped a happy ending, but I do wish they would have ended a little further into the future.

The big question is, “Would I recommend these sensual works of art?”. Yes and No. If you are in the market for a literary masterpiece, then do not bother with these easy reads. However, if your heart desires a tainted, love story, with a dash of erotica, then these books are definetly your cup of tea! For those of you whom have not read the trilogy, let me leave you with some helpful hints and possible side effects:

1. Keep your expectations low, I mean as low as you can go, in terms of elements that make a good read, character development, plot, climax there are a multitude of these in the books, etc.

2. Read them in private-otherwise your face may turn fifty shades of red from embarrassment and shame.

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3. Be prepared to experience one of two reactions if your husband names going to the hardware store; Sheer excitement or Primal Fear.

4. Be prepared for a burning urge to viciously murder Anastasia Steele’s inner goddess. She is a pom-Pom packing, pony tail sporting cheerleader who feels the need to do somersaults and cartwheels at every flirtation. Please!

5. You will no longer refer to plugs and clamps as plumbing supplies.

6. The Unites States Census Bureau should look into hiring some more staff:

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7. You will mind cheat with Christian Grey repeatedly and you will be devastated when this happens:

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8. And whatever you do do not forget this:

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Happy Reading!

Categories: Words to Read By | Tags: , , , , , | 7 Comments

I fell in love in South Carolina!

Posted on June 3, 2012 by Life and all things love

Eight days ago, I packed our bags, and headed toward the sound of the rhythmic melody of waves cresting and falling, and the brash smell of salt-laden air. I left a disheveled pile of worries at my door step; a job with mounting expectations almost impossible to meet, a blood sucking mortgage, and a vehicle on its last two wheels. I left them all behind and headed toward an Island on the east coast.

Eight hours later, I am light and spirited. I am coasting down bicycle trails under a canopy of trees heavy with Spanish Moss. I am watching two blonde-haired and blue-eyed children run across a hard-packed sandy beach toward the rush of lapping waves. I am gazing at my two-year-old son in awe and amusement as he reels in his first blue gill from the murky waters of our backyard lagoon, and I know a week is long enough. Long enough for me to fall in love with the heart wrenching and breathtakingly beautiful, Hilton Head Island.

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Thank you, South Carolina, for showing, my family and I, a good time in the low country and for sending me home to Kentucky with a suitcase full of lovely, memories!

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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