It's a Family Tradition

Everyone has their holiday traditions. I don't care whether it's Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa; everyone has some sort of tradition that has been passed down in their families for generations. The holidays are here, and this year will be a different and difficult one for me. My parents have separated after 30 years of marriage. My fiance is serving nine months in a correctional facility two and a half hours away for not minding his p's and q's on a case from a few years back. I'm still determined to keep our traditions alive and going. Growing up, we've always had three things that you could count on come Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we got to open one gift. More often than not, it was pajamas, but nevertheless, it was a gift that we got to open "before Christmas"! Not to mention the fact that very little surpasses the delicious joy of new pajamas. Then, on Christmas morning, we'd dig through our stockings and open gifts. There's always one gift under the tree that everyone got. And there was no mistaking it for anything else. It rattled a certain way. It was just a specific shape and size. Queen Anne's chocolate covered cherries is what my Dad brought to the party as a tradition. Every single person got a box of chocolate covered cherries for Christmas! Mom was never really a fan, so she either gave hers to dad, or my brother and I would decide who got it. 

           

Once gifts and cleanup was done, and the food was cooking, on came the TV. I'm not sure where you're from, but I know in our home. A Christmas Story (leg lamp, "you'll shoot your eye out", "oh fudge") airs back to back, all day, on Christmas. We would catch bits and pieces of it as we made our way around the house enjoying our new things, grazing on the snack stuff while mom cooked a ham and the trimmings to go with it, and finally getting showered and dressed before any of the relatives showed up. My fiance's family tradition is one of my favorites, simply because of how it came about. His dad is an Army veteran. He finally retired around a year ago after serving for the majority of his adult life. When Derek (fiance) and his sisters Michele and Cassie were little, James (Derek's father) was active duty, and was set to deploy at any moment. It was Christmas. The kids were on a pallet in

the floor watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", and James and Hope (Derek's mother) were in their recliners. The phone rang. All James said was, "Okay". He'd gotten his phone call, and it was time to go. It was late. He was already packed. There was nothing more for him to do but head out to do his duty as an American soldier! Every year since then, they make it a point to watch Christmas Vacation every Christmas. I was blessed enough to be included in this part of their family history, and I absolutely love it.

            Since I've grown, and have become more interested in the family get-togethers and such, I've come up with some traditions myself. Mandi and I have begun one of our own. Usually a week or two before Christmas, we get the kids together, and we bake some sort of holiday treat. It may be cookies, it may be cupcakes, but we bake. Prior to this night, we usually raid the Dollar Tree and get crafting supplies. We get the kids new pajamas, and we make homemade ornaments for the Christmas trees. The kids usually make one for our trees, and then one for the grandparent's trees, or the other parent. We watch Christmas movies until the kids can barely keep their eyes open. 

 I plan to start and keep as many new traditions during my time on this earth. Moreover, I'd love to hear some traditions you all have in your families!!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukka, Happy Kwanzaa, to all who dare to read my blog! God bless us, every one! 

Mandi-Corruptor, Instigator, and My Best Friend!

THIS heifer right here. You've read the stories. You know just by looking at her that any moral defects I have as an adult are all her fault. This is Mandi. This is "the bestie". I found that bottom picture there, and had to share it. That's from when we first met and were working together at McDonald's back in 2002. The second one was last Christmas, when she decided we both needed duck lips for a selfie. Yes, we're grown women in our mid-thirties who still enjoy a good selfie session, and please believe, the majority of them look like those up there.

There are way too many stories to go along with these selfies, as well as the 15 years of friendship between the two of us. I just wanted to share the pics. But should you ever be lucky enough to cross paths with us, be warned. We have no filter, no act-right, and not a single ounce of shame. You'll never find another pair of crazy gals like us though! We're quirkier than your average pair. 

1) If either of us is crying, DO NOT--I repeat--DO NOT HUG THE CRYING PERSON!!! Sure, it's a kind gesture, but it makes the emotional issue that much worse.

2) Sugar coating isn't going to happen where clothing is concerned. Example: If you look bad in something you're trying on, you'll likely get something along the lines of "That looks stupid. Take it off."

3) We are happily boring. Our days at the bars and clubs are long gone. We tend to spend our free time in pajamas, vegging out on our favorite shows, browsing Pinterest, or just plain old laying around. We enjoy the occasional glass of moscato, and the frequent trip to Taco Bell. 

4) Neither of us do bugs. At all. Don't think for one second that we're above calling someone to come over and handle a particularly large spider. 

5) We frequently talk in movie quotes and song lyrics. And yes, we are thoroughly amused with ourselves. 

I know it's a random post, but I'm pretty proud of my bestie. If God ever intended for me to have a sister, she must've been it. I'm pretty sure he knew better than to give both of us to one parent though. I don't think anyone would be equipped to handle that. 

Love you, Hooker!!!! 

Mixed Feelings About the Stork

I’ve been in a funk for quite some time now, and I honestly don’t know how to untangle it and clear my head of the thoughts. I’m nearing my mid-thirties, and have no children of my own. At the age of fifteen, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (translates to many cysts on my ovaries). I was told I would never conceive, much less carry and deliver a child. I’ve been pregnant once, but I miscarried at eight weeks. It broke me at the time, but looking back on the situation I was in, not to mention the person who helped create the child, it makes sense now why God decided not to put that child on this earth. Had it survived, my child would be in Kindergarten this year. No matter. He or she is undoubtedly being spoiled and well taken care of by not only our Heavenly Father, but my late Granny Pat, my cousin Alecia, and my friend Mikal.

Babies have been on my mind a lot lately, in more than one way. Some days, I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to be a mother. When my fiancé Derek and I first started discussing our future together, and the topic of children came up, he assured me that if conception wasn’t possible, we would adopt. It’s a noble thought, and I would consider it of course, but there’s still that selfish part of me that doesn’t want to do that. The part of me that wants the excitement of two lines on that pregnancy test. Who wants the tears of joy with my husband and with my best friend when I tell her she’s going to be an aunt. That part of me wants the ultrasounds, the growing belly, and the amazement when the life growing within me begins to kick and move around. I want that moment of “It’s time!”, and the joy of looking at my newborn child and knowing that a part of me has been immortalized in some way.

But in the same instance, my mind bounces onto the other end of the spectrum. I sometimes think that never having children of my own wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe that’s God’s way of telling me that if it doesn’t happen, I will be fine. In all honesty, the idea of carrying, birthing, and raising a child terrifies and amazes me at the same time. Children are expensive. What if my child gets sick or hurt? I am extremely softhearted. Will I be able to discipline my child without being too harsh or being too soft? What physical and mental issues would I pass on to a child? There are so many dizzying questions that run through my head, and yet I can’t decide whether I would be devastated or unbothered if I was never given the opportunity to raise a child of my own.

Some days, it’s a sensitive topic. To me, someone who has successfully conceived, carried, and birthed a child has no right to tell me that I’ll be fine if I never have the same chance. And as much as I know they mean well when they say it, it still hurts. I’m reminded that I have nephews, I have my soon to be stepson, and I have countless of others who call me “Aunt Amber”, but to me, it’s just not the same. Don’t get me wrong, I love the ones who consider me their aunt no matter how they came to know me. I wouldn’t trade them for the world. But they’re not mine. I didn’t get the first words, steps, teeth, and all the other glorious firsts that parents get from babies. That first day of kindergarten, where most mothers stand outside their child’s classroom with their hearts in their throats and tears in their eyes at the realization that their babies are no longer babies anymore. The phrase “When are you going to have one?” sets me on edge as well. That one is a cross between “Don’t you think I want to” and “I’ll get around to it eventually!”.

It’s an odd thing to talk about out of the blue, I know, but I think it’s because right around this time, six years ago, I saw those two lines on that home pregnancy test. 

Prayers and positive thoughts for some peace and understanding are appreciated, if you have them to spare. 

Thank you as always for reading!

The Blame Game

  Not gonna lie; I most certainly indulge in what I affectionately refer to as “brain rot” media. This varies from gossip magazines, reality shows, all the way to some gossip sites like The Dirty and She’s a Homewrecker. I’m not really sure why I find such entertainment so amusing, but I do. Maybe it’s the idea that there are people out there who really are crazier than I am, and they don’t have any shame about it. I’ve noticed a common similarity on some of these. There’s a lot of finger-pointing. I read through the stories on She’s a Homewrecker at least once or twice a week (or day…whatever…). I get the idea that it’s a site for exposing the “other person”, thus punishing them for intruding into your relationship. It never ceases to amaze me how many victims there are.

I don’t mean the scorned wives (and sometimes husbands). I don’t mean the hurt children. Apparently, the person who has done the cheating is a victim. The way these stories are worded, you’d think they were held at gunpoint and ordered to be unfaithful. I see it every time I look on there: “She lured my husband…” “He took advantage of my wife…” “She ruined my family….” “He cost me my marriage…”. It’s ridiculous. I personally don’t agree with any of those statements. The “homewrecker” had a hand in it, yes, but they didn’t act alone. That husband that was “lured” to do dirty things? He had a choice. He knew he had a wife (and sometimes children) at home. He was free to say no, and chose not to. He made the choice. The same goes for the wife who was supposedly taken advantage of. When I hear that phrase, I think of rape. I was taken advantage of when I was 18. I thought I was grown enough to drink, and didn’t take into consideration that the people around me weren’t people I trusted. It cost me my virginity and a long-time friendship. Do not tell me that by tempting your wife or girlfriend with an affair, someone “took advantage” of them. Your spouse was weak, they slipped up, and they left you to deal with the aftermath.

  I am particularly disgusted with a woman who uses terminology like that to explain why her idiot husband cheated on her. I actually have a friend who was put on the Homewrecker site. She slept with a married man. It was the typical “He said they were divorcing” story. He’d taken it a step further, though. Not only were he and wifey-dearest separated, they weren’t living together. He’d changed his status to single. Then he started the affair with my friend. I personally wouldn’t piss on the husband if he were on fire, as I know him personally, and he can best be described as an evil, manipulative, sadistic megalomaniac. What this fool has pulled in the 10+ years I’ve known him is beyond sickening. The wife he separated from had just found out that she was pregnant. He apparently wasn’t ready to settle down, so he asked her to leave. Once she found out about my friend, she put her on blast on the website. Describing the affair, she proclaimed, “She knew he was married she knew I was pregnant yet she continued….She helped ruin everything!” She seems to think her husband was taken advantage of. Husband knew more so than anyone that he was married and had a baby on the way. He still chose another woman over his wife and child. Yes, shame on my friend for getting involved with someone before seeing divorce papers, but as guilty as she was, the jackass she slept with is every bit as guilty.

                                                   Moving on.

  I watch Love and Hip Hop (Hollywood, Atlanta, New York, etc…) RELIGIOUSLY. Nothing cracks me up more than the sight of Young Joc strapped to a bed getting his ass handed to him by his then-girlfriend after she caught him being a man-whore. She cuffed him to the bed, beat his ass, and left him there trussed up like a turkey! There’s a girl on another version of the show who apparently got pregnant by a very famous artist. I’ve seen some of the headlines that are popping up about it. She’s claiming he “got her pregnant on purpose”.

                                             I’m sorry, what?? 

  YOU made the conscious decision to have unprotected sex. This is not a one-sided deal. You weren’t FORCED to have sex with this person, and at your age, especially if you’re having sex at all, you should know that sex without some sort of contraceptive CAN RESULT IN PREGNANCY. He refused to wear a condom? Bet. You can refuse to give him any. You’re not on the pill, shot, IUD, whatever? You may ought to stand your ground and demand that your partner wrap it up.

These people seem to think that humans don’t have free will of any kind. They are unable to say, “No, I have a wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend at home.” God put all of us on this earth with free will. That means you as an adult, have the freedom and right to say “No glove, no love.” It’s absolutely laughable to hear someone say, “He got me pregnant on purpose.” As a woman, it’s your responsibility as much as it is your partners to make sure that doesn’t happen if you’re not ready to be a parent. If you don’t understand the concept of all of this, maybe you shouldn’t be having sex in the first place.

Thoughts on this?

Tactful Vs.Tacky....Not everyone knows the difference.

                     

  I've got pretty thick skin at times. I've been called all kinds of names, by all kinds of people, and for the most part, it's as simple as shrugging it off and going about my business. Every now and then, however, someone will say something that just burns my biscuits (and for anyone who knows me, burned baked goods are NOT okay!!!!). My most recent run-in with such issues has happened here at work, and frankly, I'm baffled. 

  I do my hair (there is a LOT of it, by the way) and makeup when I can. Sometimes sleep is just more important to me than putting on my face and managing the monster atop my head. Especially on Fridays, when I work 6-3. Those mornings, I'm up by around 4, and out the door by 5ish so I can get to work in plenty of time. At that ungodly hour, I generally don't care what I look like, provided my teeth are brushed, my clothes are clean, and my hair is out of my face. A few weeks ago, on a Thursday, I did it all: the hair, the makeup, the clothes, the shoes, etc. I looked super cute and I knew it. Then came Friday. Early as hell and there was no way I was going to get up early enough to do all that two days in a row. 

  I was at my desk working, when a coworker came over to bring me a file. She smiled widely, and as if she had a juicy secret, leaned in and whispered. "I have to tell you something.". I leaned over toward her and asked what was going on. "You don't look pretty today," she stated, smiling. It took me a minute to realize that she had in fact said that, plain and simple. "You looked pretty yesterday when you had your hair and makeup done, but you don't look pretty today," she continued.

WTF.....?!?!?

I had to clench my teeth because my mother was really close to coming out of my mouth and telling this woman all about herself. I plastered on a big, "look here, bitch" smile and carefully chose my words. "Well...When you wake up at 4am and leave your house by 5 like I do, makeup and hair isn't all that important. To be honest, " I continued, "I look like a homeless hot mess, and I really don't care."

That's what I said out loud. What I ALMOST said was "Your old ass should know better than to say something like that to someone you barely know."

  

I was raised with the rule of "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Well...that and "If you can't say anything nice, come sit next to me and we'll talk about it together." So for this woman to seek me out to tell me that I looked like a bag of smashed poo, I felt completely insulted. After a bit of venting to a coworker/friend, I learned that I'm not the first or only person she's done this to. After asking Mouthpiece about our prepaid parking situation, Mouthpiece promptly told my friend that she was surprised she'd planned to park and walk, as my friend seemed "spoiled and didn't strike her as the type who would walk anywhere." Not long after my "you look like crap" incident, another girl came in wearing some....interesting....boots. Not really MY style, but regardless, she liked them and wore them to work. Mouthpiece told her they looked "dumb", that she didn't like them, and "people were going to think she was crazy for wearing that". 

Why not just keep your mouth shut and mind your business? 

Laughter at a Funeral: Granny's Farewell Part 1

My granny was awesome. Plain and simple. I miss her every day. She wasn't the stereotypical, short hair, pants set, etc. She had beautiful, silver hair that went way past the middle of her back, and she almost always wore it in a ponytail. Jewelry was minimal; usually just a pair of hoop earrings, a brown leather watch, and two of her favorite rings. Her clothes were always comfortable, usually consisting of a flannel button down and jeans, her favorite broomstick skirt and blouse, or a flowy summer dress and sandals. I have a small vial of the perfume she always wore (Poison). She was always on the go, and never seemed to let any physical ailment get her down. Colds tended to have her running around the house with kleenex sticking out of her nose. Stomach bugs may as well just not exist, because she had entirely too much to do for that nonsense! But then...
There was cancer.
Mom tried down-playing it when she broke the news to me. First that it was cervical cancer. Then that it was cervical AND uterine. And when I asked why the doctors didn't just do a complete hysterectomy (no uterus or cervix, no cancer, right?), she finally came out with it. The cancer had been there for so long, it had spread from her cervix, to pretty much her entire lower internal organs. Bladder, reproductive organs, colon, kidneys....It was everywhere. Granny had a few surgeries to remove parts of it. She went through a few rounds of chemo and radiaton. She fought for a while, but when the treatments started to make her feel worse than the cancer itself, she said no more. She was ready to go Home. She said she was ready to go Home to her daughter Vicki, to her parents and siblings....She was ready. I cried more tears watching her go through everything, being sick and tired, hurting, weak....All things that just weren't my Granny.
Then one night, almost immediately after walking in my door after a brief visit with her, I got the phone call that she'd just passed. Mandi and I got back in the car and headed back to Granny's. I found my aunt Jo, my cousin Maria, my uncle Johnny, and my pawpaw Tommy all there, somber. My granny was gone, but she looked so peaceful. There comes a comfort when someone you love passes, in knowing that they're in God's hands. It sucks, you miss them, and no one likes the idea of living without a loved one. But to know that someone you love so much is headed to so much better a place takes a little of the sting out of everything.
Granny wasn't about all the fuss and trouble that came with things. She'd supposedly given instructions for her viewing and final arrangements, down to what she wanted to wear, what songs to be played, etc. She asked to wear the white cotton dress that my parents had bought her on a vacation trip to New Mexico for the viewing, and for her ashes to be spread over the countryside in North Carolina once she'd been cremated. I honestly believe Granny would've been happy with a big birthday cake and everybody just hanging out at someone's house, as opposed to the big church funeral we gave her.
As you've surely read by now, funerals aren't something I do well, or appropriately. Especially if I have Mandi in tow. I learned during this trying time that a lot of my family suffers from the same issue--our act-right runs out once we walk into the funeral home/church. Mandi and I drove to Lonoke to the funeral home for the visitation. We pulled up the same time as my cousin Maria and her hubby Kenneth did. Together, we walked in, prepared to do this thing. They hung back a bit, as I slowly walked to the front of the room to the casket. I took a deep breath, and looked down.
WHAT. THE. HELL.
There lay my granny. My comfy, casual, no muss/no fuss granny. In what can best be described as an old lady's two-piece church dress suit, which was this odd shade of periwinkle. She had heels on her feet, jewelry all over her, and her hair was done up in a traditional pentecostal beehive. As a knee-jerk reaction, my hands went to my hips, and my foot stomped out to the side. Mandi, Maria, and Kenneth quickly walked up to my side. Mandi looked down, leaned over, and said, "Dude. That's not Granny.". Right about then, Granny's stepson Chris walked up. He stood beside me, shaking his head and patting my back. He sighed. "I know, I know. Hard to believe she's gone, huh?"
I wasn't sad as much as I was angry at this point.
"WHAT THE &%$# IS THIS UGLY ASS $#!+ THEY'VE GOT MY GRANNY WEARING?!?! SHE DIDN'T WEAR ANY OF THIS STUFF!!!!! AND WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH HER HAIR?!?!?" I managed all this in a cheerleader whisper, no matter how badly I wanted to yell.
Chris stood there silently for a moment. He looked EXTREMELY uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, patted me on the back again, and responded slowly.
"Well....that's what she was wearing the day she married my dad...."
Oh I'm an ass.
I'm pretty sure not only did I stick my foot in my mouth, but I swallowed all the way up to my thigh.
I figured I'd best go sit down before I said something else untoward.


Stay tuned for the funeral service shennanigans....

Granny'd be so proud lol.