Archive for the ‘My sister’ Category

Big Daddy does it again:)

I feel like I don’t know when I’m going to blog next because I have so much going through my head.  None of it bad, or pressing issues.  I could blog about my birthday, V-day, knitting, baby J, my daughter J, Big Daddy, life, work (that doesn’t sound fun), things that bother me (I already did that and I don’t want this to be a soapbox type of blog, but sometimes it’s just necessary).  I think this is what they call writers block, but since I don’t consider myself a writer I wouldn’t know.

I have not been a very good blog buddy…sorry ladies.  I guess I just haven’t found something that’s made me stop and HAVE to write about it.  Life has been good, got lots of presents for my bday/vday (separate presents, I hate combo gifts).

I just upped the cuteness factor by 10

The kids are all thriving, and the dogs – we got a new one to add to the madness, they are all happy and sleeping through the night (and have learned what a bark collar does).  I don’t have much to blog about besides how great things are, and that is enough to write about for a while, but I don’t want to take time out of the greatness to sit here and write about it.

I’ll leave you with this promise for more.  My sister and I were talking the other morning in an unplanned 7 am FB chat, which was absolutely awesome, and something that was bothering her had also been an issue for me and another friend of ours all at different times in the last few weeks.  I mentioned that I was going to blog about it, since it seems that it’s common and unwanted (the issue, not my blog :P).

Stay tuned for a possible rant, because if I other people can speak freely…then so can I.


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Today was 41 years since my sister (click that for her blog) was born.  Every year my momma used to call us on our birthday and say “this time ____ years ago, I was in labor/giving birth/holding you for the first time/screaming in pain/drugged up”…insert whatever sentiment she was feeling that year.

Every year we used to laugh and guess what she was going to say to us, and every year we enjoyed and waited for that call.  My sister hasn’t had that call in 4 birthdays.  Next month is my birthday and it will be 5 birthdays without that call.  Mom passed between our birthdays and on my daughters birthday Jan 24.

I didn’t plan to do a post tonight, or plan to bring up mom, but my sister deserves something for how amazing she is, and she deserves to be celebrated.   I can’t possibly cover how much I love her or how much she does for me and has done over the years.  To me she has been a big sister, protector, mother and my best friend since I was born.  Urs, I love you dearly, and am proud to be your little sister.

Taken Jan 2006 – Mom and My sister.

This time 41 years ago, you were in mom’s arms.  How lucky were  you?

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So we’re a week in now…and I’m posting my first blog of the year.  Today was the day for the tree to come down, and truth be told Big Daddy took it down in about 5 minutes time.  I think had it stayed up any longer he would have divorced me early next week.  He’s a patient, loving man, but there is a limit to everyone’s holiday spirit.

In my defense, I’ve  (we’ve) been a little busy.  I didn’t really post much through Thanksgiving and Christmas because I wanted to enjoy the holidays.  Then I got a rash (which is like 2 weeks of explaining  in itself), had to deal with life and kids and ex’s that have nothing better to do than create drama, had family visit, which was AWESOME, went to the ER (on NYE – first time for that), had insomnia for about 3 weeks on meds and still do (which I could have blogged everynight because of that), and well, that’s enough to keep you busy right?

It’s like the Indians and the Pilgrims coming together – only we all color coordinated!

All in all, this year has smoothly transitioned over from last year.  I don’t like change too much, or too fast, or weird, so plans and normalcy is a good thing.

I do plan to blog more often and about things that matter, or things that matter to me to vent and keep my sanity.  I hear that my rash may be a stress reaction – and to that I say HA!  I have no stress!  I’d be lying, but it sounded good.

Stress creeps up on us all, holidays, bills, work, kids, ex’s, family, life, no matter how happy, well adjusted, dying to be unstressed you are, it will find you, and if you choose to ignore it, it will talk louder (and show up as a full body rash for no apparent reason).

I hope you had a great holiday season, and even though the holidays are over, I’m still very excited that it’s winter and we have more snow forecast this week!

What’s keeping you busy?  Stressed?  Have you blogged every day?  (C’mon, make me feel better and reply!)

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The holidays are my favorite time of year.  I LIVE for Christmas shopping/giving to others.  I get a shopping high picking out just the right present.  Crafts, cooking, spending time with family, decorating, shopping, trees, Christmas movies – you get the idea.  So once Halloween hits, and we move into November, I am in heaven (not that the rest of the year sucks).  I’ve noticed, for a few years now, that it used to take FOREVER for Christmas to get here.  FOR-EVER.  I couldn’t wait to get to Christmas morning.  Now it seems like it’s too quick.  There are about 26 days until Christmas, and I’m only halfway done with my shopping.  Join me in the panic…ok, now let’s move on.

I am going to enjoy this wonderful holiday season (insert Hallmark stamp and “It’s the most…wonderful time…of the year” song) by dwelling in the moment on each of the family holidays, long weekends, traditions, and all that good stuff.  Hence the reason this post is a little late, I was too busy dwelling to want to write anything.

My 11 pound butterball.

My Thanksgiving this year was great.   I made it a point to not spend too much time online (possibly a New Years’ resolution there), and enjoy the long weekend with no work and a mix of family time and “no kid” time.  This year, I have a new home, new family (in-laws, new daughter, daughter-in-law-to-be, Grandson), new husband (SCORE!) and all over, a new outlook on what it means to be happy and thankful.

December 11th will be one year since my life changed course.  It was the day I decided life was too short, and it was much more important to enjoy it fully than to worry about what I had, or what I could have, or what I wanted that I was never going to get.  It was the day I decided that I had enough and that there is, in fact, a limit to how much crap someone will take before they decide they are done.  Words that we should all heed.

During the decision and soon after I had no clue what I was doing, or which way I was going to go.  I only knew that I couldn’t remain where I was.  I depended on my family, and the few friends that remain close to me even across the miles.  I am thankful I had the means, soundness of mind, support, and balls to leave.

Had I not left when I did, I would probably still be there, just like I had been for years leading up to that day.  I was used to it, surrendered to it.  As much as I wanted to leave, and talked about it, and thought about it, I didn’t have enough of a desire to believe that there was much more out there.  Which brings me to my second thing I’m thankful for this year.

I am thankful that God placed me where he did, when he did.  I am thankful for being where I was and having what I had in life, and lacking what I was lacking in life, in order to make me realize now what I was missing. If I did not experience what an unhealthy relationship was, or have to live with the daily struggles of trying make excuses and talk myself out of how bad it was, I would not know now how much of a blessing my life and relationship with my husband is.  As messed up as it sounds (because no one should be like him), I am thankful that he-who-shall-not-be-named was the way he was, I learned from it, and I would not be where I am.

Thankful doesn’t cover it.

This year has been filled with so many new things and great new people.  Many learning opportunities, new things to get used to, old thoughts to get past, different ways to do something.  All leading me further from where I was and closer to where I know I am supposed to be.  I am no longer wondering where I belong, or if this is all life has to offer.  If it is, I am content and happy, before I had come to grips with knowing I’d probably never know what happy was, so I might as well just be happy where I was.  I don’t feel like I have succumb to where I am because there is nothing better out there.  I am thankful I have found the better place (and husband).

As I sit here typing, and think of the changes this last year has brought I am most thankful for the ability to recognize all that is good in my life.

There are people that don’t know what they have, or don’t care until it is too late.  I am not one of those people, and for that I am thankful.


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I like to think I’m fairly forgiving of myself.  If I weren’t I’d be more concerned about how others perceive me.  I really don’t care about things like that, as long as I can sleep at night, it doesn’t matter.  So, this one is a little hard.

If I’m honest, there’s not many things I’d change that I’ve done in my life.  I may change how I handled a situation, or in hindsight my reaction to someone or something, but overall there’s only one thing I feel totally guilty about.  It’s a little odd though, because even though I feel guilty, I can rationalize it all day long.

Side note: I just realized this is my second mention of this (in 3 posts) since I started this 30 day thing…which is a huge statement to myself how much I really dwell on it, and how much it has affected my life.

My mom and me:)

The day my mom died I woke up with a sore throat, cold, fever.  I still went to work, and as I’ve stated before just kept on trucking, because she was way sicker than I was.  It was very normal for me to just keep on going even before she was in the hospital.  I’d reserve my sick days for the kids to be out of school.   By the time I left work at 3:30 and headed down to the hospital I was losing my voice, and had to wear a mask to go visit her so I didn’t get her sick(er).  Around 6-7 that night, we had spoken with her doctors, and had decided that she had been through enough, at her request all outside testing, poking, prodding, guessing was done.  She was only to be made comfortable, with medicine, and allowed to rest peacefully without being constantly bugged.  My sister left to get a shower and clean up since I was feeling ill, she decided to stay with mom through the night, which was the plan anyways since she was there from out of town.  Around 9 pm Ursula left, and I was hanging with mom, she was watching tv off and on, and telling me to eat cough drops in between her dozing off and me coughing and waking her up.  At 10 pm, she looked at me and said “Pam and Terry (longtime friends) are going to come up since they are in town for their anniversary, they’ll be here any minute, you go home and get some rest.”  I argued with her, that I could wait until they got there, or until Ursula got back, which was supposed to be any moment now.  I steadily argued and told her I’d be fine, 1 hour wasn’t going to hurt…then I lost my voice completely.  She lifted her head up and said “go home.”  So I did.  She promised me she would be fine.  She lied.

I can’t at all blame her.  It’s not like it was new information that she was that bad off.  To explain how we all dealt with it, we had many conversations, my sister, myself and mom, that there was to be no “visiting us from beyond” or haunting us or anything of the like.  She was informed that neither one of us wished to see her again once she was gone.  We also had a VERY stern talk with her that she was not allowed to die on my daughter’s birthday…my mom’s mom died the day after my birthday.  She assured us she would do no such thing.   That night at around midnight, my sister was with my mother, and things started to go downhill.  I was at home asleep, as ordered, and around 2 am the phone rang.  I didn’t even answer it, I knew.  She did it…she died without me there, and on J’s birthday.  She was right “you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

So…my something is I have to forgive myself for not being there, for myself, for my mom, and for my sister, who we both promised we wouldn’t leave the other there to deal with her actual passing alone.  I should have.  I was there every day before that day.  I had made it without sleep, or little sleep, without food, or hospital food, bored, concerned, all of it.  But sick I couldn’t do.  I have thought that maybe God knew I couldn’t handle it, or that I’d handle it better if I weren’t there.  I don’t even know that I’ve handled it after this long.  In the end, I listened to my mom…who was still being a mom (from her hospital bed) and telling me what to do and to take care of myself, even at the end of her life.


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I’m already behind on this.  So let’s not waste anymore time on pointing out what I hate about myself.  I swear, they aren’t playing with this “truth” crap.

Here’s the thoughts going through my head right now (I’m about to prove how ADD I am):

  • What do I hate about me
  • This is going to kill the self confidence I try to convey
  • My “I don’t give a crap what you think” attitude is gone
  • That Eminem picture D just showed me is hot
  • I hate the headache I’ve had for 4 days
  • I hate folding laundry (Thank God D folds it most of the time), I also hate putting it away…I bet he’s noticed
  • He’s amazing
  • I hate that I have lots of cute clothes and I usually end up in Pj’s or jeans
  • Shrek is perfect for Fiona
  • I hate that I just sat here after typing “I hate” and watched 5 minutes of Shrek

Alright.  I don’t really hate too much about myself.  I mean, yes, I whine about cellulite, of which I’m told I have none, but I know what it looks like and it’s creepin’ up on me.  I hate that I have black hair and the greys are taking over.  I hate that my skin is doing weird things that it’s never done before I lived in NC.  I hate that I am more “Roseanne” than “Rachel Ray/Martha Stewart/Betty Crocker.”  But those are all things that I just deal with, I’m not in a deep depression or trying to actively change those.  I’m also not a person that sits around thinking about what I hate about myself.  I’m more on the “this sucks” and then moving on track.  I also have the support of someone that dismisses my insecurities the moment they are voiced by telling me how crazy I am to even mention something like the dimple on my thigh…he loves everything about me, so there is no need for me to be down on myself.  I also have pretty good self esteem, and always have.

Which brings me to what I really do hate about myself.   It’s also going to be the first time I really have put it out there to people other than those that know me well.  So, here goes, I’m not perfect – and here’s why.


Don't be fooled...I'm not alone:)


When my mom passed away 3.5 years ago I was go, go, go, working, picking up kids, going to the hospital to be with mom, cooking dinner, and sleeping for 4 hours and getting up and doing it all over.  I did that for about a month.  The day she died, I got sick, double ear infection, bronchitis, and strep.  It was not fun.  I think I just ran myself into the ground because, she was the one in the hospital bed sick, and what right did I have to say I was tired, or I wasn’t feeling well, or I needed rest?  So, she was gone, and I lost my job because I took off an extra day to “grieve” which was actually a doctor ordered day because I was still sick.  That was the beginning of my finding a way to work entirely from home.

After about a month, things started to take a weird turn.  I had no desire to be in the corporate world, I didn’t miss the cute clothes and shoes.  I was very happy staying at home, seeing the kids off to the bus, hanging out with my dogs, having coffee (tea) with the neighbors and being home when the kids got off the bus, cooking dinner etc.  It was nice.  It was calm, and different and what I needed.  I had lost my desire to make lots of money and found the desire to be a mommy again – not that I lost it, it was just overshadowed by the desire to “contribute” to the household.

About  month later, I got sick and was put on an antibiotic, which after years of wondering where this all started, I think the medicine has a tad to do with it.  The antibiotic has numerous warnings for those that are predisposed to anxiety, depression, and abnormal fears and phobias (I found this out AFTER taking it)…enter me.  I’ve had Anxiety attacks/Panic attacks for years.  They started when my youngest was a baby, I’d wake up shaking and zooming around the house at 3 am unable to relax or sit, thinking I was cold and I’d put on more clothes and get back in bed…and sleep through the rest of it.  It wasn’t until I told my sister what was going on and she said “yeah, that’s an anxiety attack” – thanks, I was doing good not knowing.  So, here I am, totally moving along in life for 8 years dealing with the occasional anxiety attack, and then mom dies, and then I’m on this medicine that basically kick starts you into these things.  Day 2 of meds, I was driving and felt dizzy…pulled over and called my then husband and said “I’m a mile from home, I can’t drive, and I don’t know what’s wrong” – his answer “I can’t do anything, I have to pick up a game.”  Gee, thanks asshole.  So, I sat there, freaking out, 1 mile from home, for about 20 minutes.  I called my neighbor and begged her to come get me.  She was there in 1.5 minutes.  Since that day, I have driven alone 3 times.  Once 2 months later to pick Cody up from school, and you can ask my sister, I sat in the driveway crying, begging her on the phone to tell me I could just go inside and not have to be in my car.  She talked to me the entire 3 mile drive and I stayed quiet, crying and driving.  The second time was driving home from Wed night youth group where I dropped Cody and his friends off, that was a 2 mile trip, and on the way home I called my sister again and told her how proud I was of myself.  These trips were over 3 years ago.  The last time was February this year when D called and said he had arrived from NC and had pulled into my sisters subdivision…that motivation is self-explanatory.  Every time we pass the spot I still remember me stepping out of the car, and him stepping out of the truck.   Grrrrr baby.

So, as you can see…it’s a huge impact on my life.  I hate it. With a passion.  I can’t drive alone.  Surprised?  Eh, it’s not a huge deal.  I’m thankful I have found a man who can live with it.  I feel like one day I might drive alone again.  I might not.  I hate it enough that I’ve read books, prayed HARD, begged, searched online, told myself it’s stupid, told myself it’s normal.  It’s not going anywhere.  Just as easily as that switch was turned on, one day it will turn off.  In the meantime, I’ve adjusted life to fit what I can and cannot do.  Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass, but sometimes it’s not even an issue.  Lots of people don’t like things, can’t do things, freak out at things.  This just happens to be mine.  I’ve also learned that the driving alone thing has spawned the not being alone at all thing, which is a whole other post.  I don’t know which one started which.  I think it was the driving thing first.

So, what I hate about myself is that I can’t drive alone and I don’t know how to make the paralyzing fear go away.

When I read some of the other things people have posted for this “Day 1” deal, I’m happy that mine is something that isn’t physical.  It’s not my hips, or my chest, or my nose…all of which I would have altered a little if it were free, safe and not against my husband’s wishes.  He prefers me the way I am, which is another reason I love him.


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They might be little, but they have a big grip on me!

I miss them.  I have been working all day, taking care of the girls, cooking dinner, looking for things online, helping other people with stuff, keeping myself occupied, fighting off a 3 day migraine, yet all day I can’t help but think of how much I miss them.  I think that was a run-on sentence, but it’s my blog so it’s ok.

The “them” I miss isn’t just the lips and toes that I’ve been kissing and watching and playing with and staring at while they sleep.  The “them” is everything that came with those lips and toes.  The cries, coos, burps, smiles, poots, dirty diapers, quiet moments staring at me, his best friend the ceiling fan, his smell (cookies, Johnson’s, and yum was how I explained it on my Facebook), I miss it all.

I didn’t realize how much I missed all things baby until he showed up last Friday.  I hadn’t seen him for a month, and had only seen him for a day a month ago, but when he got here, and I held him, it was like he knew me and I knew I was toast.  My house is now quiet, there are no diapers, toys, blankets, bottles, socks, Goodnight Moon, nose sucker…none of that.

My sister made the statement “There will be moments in each of our lives in which we are forced to let go of something that we wish to hold tightly with both hands.” I agree that it’s hard to send your children off and feel good that you raised them right and they can take care of themselves, but it’s so much harder to do that when they have one of their own to take care of too!

I can’t wait until they are back, and I can see him daily, and hold him.  Once they move here later this month, the balance of being able to have our own space, and enjoy baby time (and send him home for a little while) is going to be wonderful.  But until then, I miss the lips and fingers.


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