Daddy

I wasn't going to do it. I wasn't going to write the "Oh woe is me, it's Father's Day, and my daddy is dead" post.

Stiff upper lip. Everyone has loss in their life. I had my daddy for longer than I thought I would. I should be grateful. I am grateful.

But my heart aches. It folds on top of itself in my chest when I try to take a deep breath while remembering the way Daddy sat in his chair with Colin nestled in his lap the last time we visited.

My heart winces every time a picture of Daddy comes up on my digital picture frame. I didn't remember that I had so many pictures of him. I'm lucky to have so many pictures of him with Christopher.

My heart whimpers when I tag a thought or a tidbit in my mind as "something to tell Daddy."

My heart is so broken.

My mind forgets though. In the day to day, it really hasn't changed much. I didn't get to see him often anymore, and he didn't like talking on the phone very much.

I missed him before he was ever gone.

But now he is gone, and I miss him even more. I didn't think that was going to happen. Naive, I suppose, but I didn't. I thought I had made peace with his passing as the Parkinson's stripped away slivers of him in between every phone call and every visit.

He was never completely gone before he died. It's a myth that loved ones with dementia are gone before their deaths. They aren't. They are still with you. You can still hold a hand, stroke a cheek, rest your head on their shoulder. They are still there for you to imagine that you just caught a glimmer of their former selves in their vacant eyes.

I waited for that glimmer for hours for the days he was in hospice.

This Father's Day, I'm not only heartbroken for myself, but for my children. Colin will not remember my daddy at all. Christopher will remember him barely. Mallory will remember him as always being sick. He loved the three of them so very much. I know that he did.

A couple of weeks ago, Christopher asked me to tell him a story about G-Daddy. I almost told him no because I didn't think my heart could stand it. However, I launched into the story of a military man turned defense attorney. A man who loved his family and his church. A man who loved bar-b-que and Mississippi State University. The man who was my daddy.

I don't suppose I will ever quit telling stories about you, Daddy. Stories to help my children know and remember you. Stories to help heal my broken heart.

Preschool Mall Chicken

I have a funny kid.

Sometimes, strike that, most of the time, I shouldn't be laughing when I am, but I can't help myself.

Today, at the mall, Christopher had me and Mallory in stitches. He climbed on the surfboard in 77 Kids and then leaned over to hand paddle in the the big cardboard wave back drop. I don't even know when he has seen surfing before.

He also picked out a ridiculous Cars hat with a big flat brim from H&M. Mallory proceeded to put it on him sideways, and before we could laugh at that, he was striking poses. Yo. Baby. My hat.

The thing that made me laugh the most though, was the worst thing he did all day. As we were walking from store to store, he decided it would be fun to lean in a little and walk right at the people walking towards him. Then, as they were busy trying to figure out which way to go to dodge him, he would dart the other direction at the last second.

He was playing his own made up version of Preschool Mall Chicken.

I shouldn't have laughed, but I did. A lot. It was just too funny.

Some days I don't win any awards for my parenting, but I still have a good time with my kids.

Backyard Discovery = Happy happy children

Two moderately skilled people. Twenty to twenty-four hours.

They weren't lying.

Kevin and I looked at dozens of swingsets, both assembled for you and assemble yourself. Being that our pennies are always pinched to the thinnest we can possibly pinch them, we quickly ended up only looking at build it yourself sets.

Last weekend, Kevin and I started building a swingset. Only it wasn't the swingset of my childhood: a metal a-frame with a metal slide that would give your bare thighs third degree burns in the coldest part of summer. Nope. This is a swingset on steroids. Big conifer steroids.

The most affordable option we found by far was on this website: http://swingsetsonline.com. I

thought surely something had to be off because their web address was so, well, generic. It wasn't

the name of the business, like Backyard Discovery, it was just swingsetsonline. For some reason,

even though I'm sure the search engines love it, and granted, I found them first through Google, I was just skeptical if they were a legitimate company or not.

Then, soon after we found a set on their website that we really liked, I stumbled upon a Tweet from Amy, otherwise known as Resourceful Mom. She was touting Backyard Discovery. She had one set at her old house and was getting ready for the delivery of a new set to her new house. As sparsely as I am on Twitter these days, I was pretty shocked that the exact information I needed just popped up in my stream.

A short Twitter conversation later, I was sold. She even had a coupon code for that month. Unfortunately, we didn't get to place our order before the code expired, but it was a nice thought (insert small amount of grumbling here).

Is this beginning to sound like a review? It's not. Just look at my About Me page to see how completely unmarketable I am. It's just what Kevin and I have been working towards the past couple of months. Literally 24 hours of work went into just the swingset, but holy cow, was it fun! It was like a giant set of Lincoln Logs with great instructions. We had the best time putting it together, together.

And now? We'll have the best time playing together, together outside. In our own backyard.

I am a happy happy mama. And Christopher finally doesn't have to ask every single morning when he wakes up, "Is my swingset ready yet?"

"Some Assembly Required" Hahahahahaha.

Laying out the plot plan. Lots and lots of labeled lumber.

That's where we were supposed to hang their sign. I figured this post is enough free advertising for them. We hung our own family name sign from Etsy.

Building the floor to the tunnel.

And the children play. Joy.

Thursday: The New Monday

6:00 AM Awaken to sound of Christopher galloping down the hallway.

6:02 AM Try to shoo Christopher back down the hallway.

6:03 AM Curse Kevin for moving into Mallory's room to sleep last night.

6:04 AM Plot how to get to sleep in ever again.

6:05 AM Colin wakes up, kisses me. Everything's better.

6:06 AM Group potty time.

6:10 AM The first time Christopher asks to watch TV.

6:11 AM The second time Christopher asks to watch TV.

6:15 AM I turn on the TV and let the dogs out.

6:16 AM Christopher asks for milk.

6:16:30 AM Christopher asks for a vitamin.

6:17 AM Christopher asks for Skittles for pooping on the potty.

Christopher remembers that he didn't poop on the potty.

Christopher asks to go poop on the potty.

6:21 AM Christopher asks for Skittles.

6:30 AM I make coffee, take Zoloft, bring the dogs in and give them water.

6:32 AM Christopher asks for more milk and can he PLEASE have some Skittles.

6:35 AM Colin asks for breakfast by screaming and banging his head into the refrigerator.

6:36 AM I feed Colin to avoid further head injuries.

6:50 AM Christopher asks for Skittles.

6:59 AM Christopher gets blueberry waffles and apples.

7:00 AM Christopher asks for more milk, more TV, and Skittles.

7: 54 AM Kevin wakes up.

8:05 AM I offer to iron his shirt because I am the best wife in the entire world.

8:25 AM Kevin leaves for work and Colin cries.

9:00 AM Colin pretends he needs a nap, says night night, gets me to rock and nurse him upstairs and then proceeds to honk my nose and laugh.

9:03 AM Colin and I come back downstairs.

9:05 AM Colin asks to play Don't Break the Ice by screaming and pointing.

9:06 AM I set up Don't Break the Ice. Colin smashes it down.

9:07 AM I set up Don't Break the Ice. Colin smashes it down.

9:08 AM I set up Don't Break the Ice. Colin smashes it down.

9:09 AM I set up Don't Break the Ice. Colin smashes it down.

9:10 AM I set up Don't Break the Ice. Colin smashes it down.

9:11 AM I bail.

9:12 AM gDiaper surgery begins. New velcro for all.

9:13 AM Colin decides that Mama shant be sewing today. Not even gDiapers.

9:14 AM I set up Don't Break the Ice. Colin smashes it down.

9:15 AM CARS. CARS. CARS. Thank God for cars. Cars that make distracting noise.

9:16 AM I hide Don't Break the Ice.

9: 40 AM Christopher does three laps around the downstairs while yelling, "I have to pee pee!"

9:42 AM I ask if he washed his hands. No, he did not.

10:00 AM Snack.

10:10 AM Boys figure out that I'm snacking and demand to be fed as well.

10:16 AM I learn that Christopher has learned to use the remote control himself.

10:17 AM We all watch Sesame Street. It's educational. U was the letter of the day.

10:24 AM I get dressed. An actual dress. And some makeup. Go me.

11:00 AM We all head to Whole Foods to do our grocery shopping.

11:10 AM I accidentally buy $17 worth of bulk pine nuts because I didn't stop the pourer thing soon enough.

11:11 AM I think fondly of Uncle Dave and shudder at what $17 of bulk pine nuts would do to him.

11:45 AM Check out with groceries. Marvel at the amount of money spent.

11:50 AM Load up the Jeep with yummy food and hungry children.

11:51 AM Turn key. Stick face in AC. Put Jeep in reverse. Wonder why the engine is just revving. Sweat.

11:52 AM Turn Jeep off. Pretend that didn't just happen. Sit.

11:53 AM Turn key. Stick face in AC. Put Jeep in reverse. Curse loudly. Turn Jeep off.

11:54 AM Call and cancel piano tuner appointment for Noon.

11:55 AM Turn key. Stick face in AC. Put Jeep in reverse. Curse again. Turn Jeep off.

11:56 AM Retrieve buggy from buggy corral. Reload groceries. Reload hungry and hot boys.

11:57 AM Request that my buggy be rolled into a cooler somewhere.

11:58 AM High fived myself for having USAA Roadside Assistance programmed into my cell phone.

12:00 PM Bought juice and sat down in the cafe to start trying to get home.

12:10 PM Gain appropriate sympathy from USAA representative.

12:20 PM Begin cleaning up juice off the table and floor. Glare at mean old lady next to us. She has NO idea what kind of day I'm having. So shut up.

12:21 PM Begin chasing my barefoot, juice covered child through the cafe.

12:22 PM Drag screaming juice covered toddler back to table. Sit him next to mean old lady.

12:23 PM Consider having a drink. Decide against it.

12:30 PM Call Jeep dealer to let them know the car is coming.

12:33 PM Call Enterprise for a ride and a car.

12:50 PM Secure transportation and resume chasing juice covered children.

1:00 PM Potty break.

1:10 PM Tour of the Whole Foods grounds.

1:20 PM Cry with no tears because I have sweated them all out.

1:30 PM Return to cafe upon realizing that children have not eaten.

1:40 PM Sit down with $8.50 worth of yogurt and berries from the salad bar.

1:41 PM Enterprise shows up.

1:42 PM Still no lunch for the kiddos.

1:43 PM Stash children in the cargo part of the minivan rental and begin car seat removal.

1:45 PM Cursing abounds.

1:55 PM Car seats are removed.

1:56 PM Begin car seat installation into rental minivan.

1:57 PM More cursing.

2:15 PM Car seats installed, children strapped in.

2:16 PM Colin falls asleep.

2:19 PM Enterprise dude takes a left turn and Christopher's seat goes flying.

2:20 PM Most cursing all day takes place. Along with, "PULL OVER NOW" many times.

2:21 PM I discover that Enterprise dude had not attached the right hand side latch. I kick myself for not checking. Christopher is fine, but pissed.

2:22 PM Christopher says, "Man, you should not drive so fast, Man."

2:23 PM Christopher falls asleep.

2:30 PM Hurry up and wait at the Enterprise place.

2:50 PM We get gas. I get a ginormous Diet Coke and a Milky Way to counteract the million hours I just spent at Whole Foods.

3:00 PM Return to Whole Foods to leave key in Jeep (forgotten earlier) and to retrieve groceries from the cooler.

3:15 PM Load groceries (again). Leave Whole Foods (again). Head home.

3:16 PM Both boys wake up.

3:26 PM Home. Discover that Christopher wasn't kidding the last time he said he had to pee pee.

3:27 PM Begin trying to figure out how to take the cover off the car seat to wash it.

3:28 PM Cursing revisited.

3:30 PM Try to get the boys to eat something. Lose that battle.

3:40 PM Collapse on couch in a heap together. Watch TV. Lots of TV.

5:30 PM Get ready for soccer.

6:00 PM Soccer.

6:01 PM Chase Colin continuously for 45 minutes.

7:14 PM Peanut butter sandwiches, bananas, carrots, and yogurt for dinner.

7:50 PM Baths.

7:51 PM STOP TOUCHING EACH OTHER'S PENIS!!!

8:00 PM Jammies. Bed. Thank God.

8:05 PM Colin is crying.

8:06 PM I stroke his head and get him to lay back down only to discover that he's laying in a giant puddle of his own vomit.

8:07 PM Gag and dry heave.

8:10 PM Bath, take two.

8:30 PM Bed, take two.

8:34 PM Talk on the phone to a boot camp guy. Decide to try it out. Am insane.

9:00 PM Start dinner for the adults.

9:30 PM Eat dinner.

10:00 PM Colin cries.

10:03 PM Thankfully, no vomit.

10:20 PM Crawl in bed. Blog.

10:58 PM Finish blog. Sleep.

One more birthday post

It's the last day of May, so it's the last day I'm celebrating my blog's fifth birthday. I say celebrating, but mostly I've just been slacking.

There is still a list of writers to whom I would like to send you, but I'm going to wrap it up tonight with just a few of them.

Janet, who blogs as Izzymom, is a long time favorite. She did the design for my blog (which we were working on updating until I dropped off the face of the internet in January), and she also took a chance on me for my first group blog experience. Back in the day, when review blogs were interesting, Janet started Props and Pans. It was fun while it lasted, and then she moved on to a bigger project: Green Mom Finds, which is now The Green

Mom Review. The Green Mom Review and Cool Mom Picks are the two review blogs I ever read. Occasionally. Okay, so I just don't really like review blogs very much. There. I said it. But Janet rocks. I credit her with making me feel like I belonged here in this land of bloggers. She gave me a shot, and I've always appreciated it.

Some women who I adore and who are also wonderful writers:

Chicken and Cheese: Amy gave me a look into motherhood through the most beautiful, honest, writing before I was even a mother. Also working through the death of her father, she helped me prepare for the death of mine - I knew, as I read her mourning, that I was losing mine. She helped me so much these past few months and doesn't even know it.

Slouching Past Forty: Sarah started out as Slouching Towards Forty. I love that. Her poetry is amazing, and the nonfiction pieces on her very complicated relationship with her mother and the time since losing her is worth an evening of yours. Really. Just go read her whole blog right now.

Magpie Musing: Maggie works in non-profit arts in NYC. She's smart, funny, and I wish some days that I had a job like hers.

Playgroups are No Place for Children: I just love Jennifer. She is someone I wish lived across the street from me like Cyndi does. There are just some bloggers who you know you would like to have playdates with as much as you like to read their writing. That's not as weird as it sounds. In case you haven't figured this out yet - liking someone doesn't mean that you will like their blog. Nor does liking their blog mean that you will like to hang out with them. Jennifer is generous in her writing, artful in her photography, and stinkin' hilarious and I have loved hanging out with her for the 15 minutes we got to.

Miss Zoot: Kim was another of the first few blogs I fell hard for. I found her because she had these awesome Blogger templates that you could use for free. I loaded up one of her templates, went back to read some of her blog, and I was hooked. I'm not even going to try and sum her up - you just have to read for yourself. I will tell you this, however. She made her wedding cake out of Krispy Kreme donuts. Rock on.

I'll wrap this up with an obvious one. Toddler Planet. Susan is the best friend you could ever wish for. Some days, I admit, it's a little tough to share her with so many many many people, but I will. Lucky for me, she has enough grace, love, and wisdom to go around. So I link to her once again tonight. Thanks, Susan, for encouraging me to start this crazy blogging habit. It's been a fun ride, and a great thing to share with you.

There you have it. A little summary. Happy birthday to me and my blog. I wish there was cake.

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This is part of my fifth blog birthday party. These are simply bloggers I have been reading for five years and have impacted me. They are being featured in no particular order.

Tanis, Daniel, and Jessica

So, I'm still celebrating five years of this little blog. Why, I'm not sure, except that I have more links to share. Trust me, I don't actually think that five years of oversharing on the internet is actually something to get this excited about. Wow. My grammar sucks.

In December 2006, I had my first miscarriage. I was 12 weeks pregnant. It was two days after Christmas. I was in Tennessee visiting my family. It was my first baby. I had to have a D&C in a strange hospital with a doctor I didn't know.

It sucked.

I wrote about it. A lot. I was open and raw.

And then something I would almost call miraculous happened. People found me. Women who I didn't know started commenting. I followed links from comments around the internet and found a whole community of women who were dealing with their private pain in a very public way.

I spent hours in front of the computer, weeping for people I had never met. It was cathartic. It helped me with my own grief. It also helped form a community for me.

Tanis is best known as Redneck Mommy. Her blog has won too many awards to list here. She is a great storyteller and a really funny lady.

She had another blog before Attack of the Redneck Mommy though. I started reading Tanis when she was writing on Missing My Bug. She stopped posting there in 2007, but the archives are still there. If you have some time and a large box of Kleenex, it is so worth reading. Her words about being the mother of Shale, who was born with disabilities and died too soon.

If you don't have a lot of time, I would suggest you read this one post of hers. You only need a few minutes, but you'll still need the box of Kleenex.

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There are others with stories of grief. Some of the writing is so beautiful.

I just tried for a metaphor there. I tried like five times, and none of them worked. Some of the writing is so beautiful. That's enough.

Daniel is one of the few male bloggers I have followed almost religiously. I started reading his blog the night we got home from Tennessee after that miscarriage. Kevin tried to get me to stop, because the sobbing was a little disconcerting. But I couldn't stop. And the sobbing wasn't pity. It was sorrow for all the losses. Parents, spouses, children, everyone. Plus, Daniel is the most amazing writer. Sometimes I would just cry because his words were so beautifully woven.

He doesn't post often anymore, but I'm always so happy when he does. I think he feels as though he owes it to the internet to occasionally update. Of course he doesn't, but I'm not going to mention that - because selfishly, I hope he will start writing more again.

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If you have followed those links, then I owe you a funny one. Luckily, I've got one. Jessica at Oh, the Joys, was the first blogger who got me laughing again in early 2007. One morning in January, I sat and read her entire blog. I needed Kleenex for her writing, but the tears were from laughter.

She is not just funny though. She's a really great person too. Dig around a little bit, and you'll see that she works tirelessly for the gain of others. She's the kind of person you would be lucky to have on your side.

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This is part of my fifth blog birthday party. These are simply bloggers I have been reading for five years and have impacted me. They are being featured in no particular order.

Gail Anne Photography and A Little Nosh

Two of the first bloggers I developed strong friendships with have both moved into a different type of blogging. I still enjoy reading their work, and I'm proud of them for their strong business sense and drive.

Gail is an artist. She is an artist whose medium of choice happens to be photography, but I'm not one to call her a photographer. She is far far more than that. She is a true artist.

She has combined her blog with her business now. I can't stop looking at her pictures, and as always, I love to read what she has to say. Gail Anne Photography

Then there is Amy. If I remember correctly, Amy didn't cook much when I first met her. Maybe I'm dreaming that up, but I think it's right. Regardless, she cooks now. And bakes. And writes about it. I love reading her food blog. She tries things that are out of her comfort zone, but she also will do posts on some tried and true meals.

She is getting serious about it, and recently made it into the Top 50 Mom Food Bloggers list that Babble put out. I'm so proud of her. A Little Nosh

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This is part of my fifth blog birthday party. These are simply bloggers I have been reading for five years and have impacted me. They are being featured in no particular order.

Bloggers I would invite to my birthday party

In July 2006, I took a trip. I jumped on a plane and headed to Blogher in Chicago.

There were more than a few moments that I thought I might be crazy. I didn't really know anyone, except for interacting with them online.

Then the first session started, and sitting just a person over from me was Liz, who wrote Hilarities Ensue. She was on my dream list to meet in person, and there she was, sitting almost right beside me.

Since then, Liz has stopped blogging, but thanks to Facebook, we are still keeping up with each other.

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That same year, I met the trifecta of mommybloggers. Kristen, Julie, and Liz (Mom 101, not the previously mentioned Liz) had all met each other at BlogHer the year before. They then spent the next year taking over the internet. I'm only partially kidding.

Kristen, who was the first blogger I ever read, still posts regularly on her personal blog, Motherhood Uncensored. If you are from Mississippi (read, from, not "still living there and think it's the bee's knees"), then you should definitely check out her posts regarding our fair state. Start with this one about playing weddings there. Be sure you pee first.

If I tried to list all of the other places you can find Kristen now, I would surely leave some of them out. But I can mention her book, The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex, and the website that she runs with Liz, Cool Mom Picks.

Julie was Mothergoose Mouse when I started reading her, rebranded as The Mom Slant, but now simply blogs at Julie Marsh. Comments are closed, and she doesn't track stats. She stopped drinking six months ago, about nine months after I did. I'm very proud of her and love the way she has been able to talk about it. She is also a VP at Cool Mom Picks, and does a bunch of other cool stuff.

What keeps me coming back to Kristen and Julie though is not their internet domination. It's their writing. The stories they tell, and the way they tell them. They are another couple of bloggers who keep me blogging.

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This is part of my fifth blog birthday party. These are simply bloggers I have been reading for five years and have impacted me. They are being featured in no particular order.

Bloggers I would invite to my birthday party

Today is Kevin's birthday. Let's get that out of the way so we can talk about something far more important. (Kidding, of course. Happy birthday to the love of my life.)

Today this blog is five years old. Usually blog milestones fly right past me because, you know, who really cares? However, since a lot of my favorite bloggers started up all around the same time, I've been noticing five year anniversaries a lot lately.

Instead of talking about me, which is of course, what usually happens around here (What? It's a personal blog. What do you expect?), I have decided to celebrate my five year blogging anniversary by sharing it with the bloggers who have impacted me. The women in my blog reader who make me want to keep reading and keep writing.

The bloggers I love tell stories. They are deeply personal. They are brilliant writers. They are funny. They are smart. They aren't trying to sell me anything. They are authentic. They long to be heard - really heard. They are women who I consider friends - in a 21st century kind of way.

Because one of my favorite things about blogging is the community, I've decided to celebrate five years of blogging by sharing some of those bloggers with you. You can thank me later.

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Crib Chronicles

I'm starting with Bon because she has the most beautiful post up today about her grandfather. Her last living grandparent who died last week.

Her words sit right down on the couch with me. I know that relationship. I know that love between grandfather and granddaughter. I cry with her because my heart hurts for her, but also because she took me right back to my own losses.

It is what powerful writing does. It involves you.

Go. Read. Get involved.

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This is part of my fifth blog birthday party. These are simply bloggers I have been reading for five years and have impacted me. They are being featured in no particular order.

I love Abandon Kansas loves me

Kevin and I had a date last night. We went to see a band. The last time we did that, it was 2008, we went to see Liam Finn, I posted about it before we went, someone read that info, showed up at the show, harassed us, and we had to go get a restraining order.

Good times, good times.

Last night's date was no less weird, but far more pleasant. And look! I'm not telling you about it until AFTER the fact. I'm so smart.

There is this band that I love. Really love. They are called Abandon Kansas.

These days, it's hard for me to find new music that reaches my heart. That's a cheesy way to put it, but it's true. There are a lot of bands and musicians that I hear and like, but very few that draw up the intense desire to listen and absorb the music.

I'm talking about a feeling I got a lot in college and right afterwards - a time when I woke, ate, slept, dreamed, breathed, lived music. I was majoring in music. I was working in a CD store. I was playing in a band. I was the pianist at a church. It was nothing but music, and I was constantly finding music that resonated so deeply with me that it became part of how I would identify myself.

Anyway, back to present day. I found this band, Abandon Kansas, on Amazon when they released a free mp3 of "O Come All Ye Faithful." It is the most beautiful arrangement I've ever heard. I barely breathed through the entire first listening.

I immediately searched for more of their music and found an EP which was also stinking amazing. Flat out fabulous.

Soon after that, they released a new full length CD. I went over to their tour page to see if they were playing anywhere near us, and to my complete surprise, they were opening their tour - wait for it - - - in a church.

WHA?

If I hadn't rambled on so long already, I would enter into a diatribe about the disdain I hold for Christian music and the industry that drives it. I could go on a bit about the fact that the word Christian isn't a very good adjective, and how there are plenty of musicians who are Christians, but who make good music that doesn't isolate itself by using bone tired imagery of being on your knees and writing lyrics that make it sound like Jesus is your boyfriend. Not to mention the times I've been told my music wasn't "Christian enough."

Oh, sorry. Did I just make that personal? Hmph.

Here's the funny thing though. It's not the first time that a band or artist has hooked me with their music before I realized they were "Christian artists." Buddy and Julie Miller. Sixpence None the Richer. Just to name a couple.

When the only date in North Carolina on Abandon Kansas' tour was at a Baptist church in Pittsboro, I was skeptical. I have to admit, I was worried there would be a love offering and an alter call. Hand raising, swaying, and lots of people pretending to look at the ceiling but whose eyes were really closed.

The whole idea made me shudder.

But we went anyway. That's how amazing this band is.

And we were not disappointed.

There were four bands playing in a tiny sanctuary complete with lights, a really really crappy PA, and a fog machine. The first band, a local group, moshed about, did that growly scream thing that is supposed to be metal, and generally played too damn loud. The second band was in the middle of the most annoyingly long sound check I have ever endured, so we left and went to get a bite to eat. Third band was actually pretty good. They claimed to be from Tupelo, MS, but I think they are actually from Booneville, not that it matters.

FINALLY, Abandon Kansas went on, and the entire experience became worth all of the weirdness. Even playing through a PA that was shot early on in the evening, they sounded amazing. They were tight. Really tight. And they played in sync with their own videos, which were being shown on monitors behind them during the show. If you aren't a musician, you might not know how hard that is - but let me tell you - it's really damn hard. And the result is very cool.

In the midst of all of that, we got to hang out with the bass player a good bit. He is adorable and was great fun to talk to.

So, yeah. Weird. Hanging out in a small Baptist church with about 20 teenagers to hear a great band.

Not your typical date, but can I just say how much I love my husband for putting up with my bizarre plans and outings? Because I do.

One nation united

"I believe that as people of God, we must answer evil. Sometimes that answer is prayer, sometimes that answer is force. Is killing ever justified? Possibly as an appropriate response to unfathomable evil." ~Karen Wells


Osama Bin Laden is dead.


It is good for our country. It was the right thing for our military to do. Hopefully, it is a giant step to the end of this long war.


But our military is still there. Men and women are still separated from their families. Innocent lives will continue to be lost. It's not over yet, and I'm left wondering what exactly comes next. It's not something that makes me feel like breaking out the bubbly.


Sobering is the word of the day.


I do find it incredibly sad that one the day after the most significant event in this war, that our country isn't standing together. That people are actually infusing inflammatory politics into what should be a battle won together. 


Will nothing ever give us pause to just be Americans for one day? To just be united for even 24 hours?


If that is the case, then Bin Laden is still winning from his watery grave.

Mary

It's Good Friday. We didn't go to church last night, and that always makes me feel off for starting Easter weekend. However, for the second year in a row, we have sick boys on Easter, so we are stuck at home.

To be precise, I'm currently stuck in bed with Christopher, waiting for his fever to start coming down from 103.8. He's miserable, poor thing. Mallory isn't too thrilled with it either since she sits next to him at dinner, and tonight he threw up all over the table. Nothing like vomit as a side dish.

Anyway, Easter. It's the one holiday that Kevin and I have really different memories of from our childhood. He remembers big family get togethers and presents for all the kids. I remember church and a very modest Easter basket, but mainly church.

We are compromising now. The Easter baskets for the kids have a small present in them and some candy, but that's it. And we would certainly go to church if our children could remain well on the date. I'm doubting that is going to happen this year, and I'm really really sad about it.

I think a lot about Mary around Easter now. I guess it has to do with being a mama. I don't think I could have stood by and watched my son take the path that hers did. Before I had my own boys, I didn't really ever consider Mary, and now? I can't seem to stop.

So tonight, I give you one of my favorite Patty Griffin songs. Forgive the misspelling of her name on the video. I put an "i" where there should have been a "y," and seeing as how I've battled that with my own name forever, I'm greatly annoyed. Not annoyed enough to go back and fix it, mind you, but annoyed.

Hope your Easter is filled with renewal, hope, and fulfilled promises of life to come.

A better fit

One morning last week, as Christopher was walking into preschool, he dropped some of his Easter eggs. I had his backpack in one hand and Colin on my hip, and was slow in helping him. Another mother stooped down to pick up an egg for him. She was chatting 90 miles an hour with a mother who looked exactly like her and didn't even look at Christopher. She just held out the egg and kept talking.

She noticed the egg, but didn't notice the little boy.

It's a good school. It's where we go to church. It would be alright if he stayed there.

But he isn't going to stay.

In the two years he has been there, we have had exactly one playdate with another child at the preschool. That means that not only has he not been invited anywhere, but also that I have not invited anyone anywhere either.

They just aren't our people, and neither are we theirs. It's not a matter of liking or disliking. It's just a matter of fitting.

I know that feeling. I spent my entire high school career not really fitting in, but not really being that upset by it.  In Jackson though, my parents believed that there weren't a lot of choices, and I did get an excellent education.

However, this isn't Jackson, and I don't have to defer to what seems like the path I should take just because of history. This is Raleigh. This is my turn to be the parent. This is my responsibility to find somewhere that my children can thrive in all aspects of life.

So I've pulled him from his preschool and enrolled him in an arts immersion preschool. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. At the same time, I'm so nervous I can hardly think about the switch.

The "supposed to's" are so ingrained. I rail against them, and I fall into them for security. I use them as a crutch, getting by for awhile and not realizing that they don't really fit until they start to blister.

"Now, Marty, tell me how you ended up at White? Because you just don't seem like a White kind of person."

This is what the mom at the one playdate said to me. It wasn't an insult, so please don't read it like that. It was just a curious question of how we ended up at that preschool. It's easy to stand out when everyone else looks pretty much the same (and DAMN if I know how all of those mama's of preschoolers are all a stinking size zero).

That was the moment I knew.

It was when I knew I wanted to make a change. I wanted to keep stretching my comfort zone to be the kind of parent that my boys need me to be. It was the same kind of light bulb moment when I decided to leave my OB's office and move to the Birth Center.

Scary, but oh so right.

If you grew up in the deep south, you probably get this. It's hard to be someone you aren't, but it's even harder to figure out how to be who you really are if you don't fit the common mold.

I'm breaking that cycle now. Starting this fall, I'm giving Christopher the kind of education that will allow him all of his drama, his eccentricities, and foster his love of music and art. It's the least I can do for him - allow him to figure out who he wants to be.

Random much?

Oh, hello. Yes, this is still a blog. No, I haven't forgotten about it. Thanks for asking.

Baby Colin started walking. He also dropped his morning nap. I also gave up Diet Coke (which I'm not even lying is harder than stopping smoking and also harder than not drinking). Point being, I frequently go to sleep before 9:00 now.

I'm freaking exhausted.

It is apparent that I need to quit calling Colin, "Baby Colin," as though Colin is his middle name and Baby his given. He is walking, communicating, eating anything and everything now. He is a full blown toddler.

Which is why this past Tuesday morning, when he did need a bit of a morning nap, instead of putting him down for a nap, I sat on the couch with him. He nursed himself to sleep in my arms, and I held him for the hour, watching him sleep, looking for the little baby he was just a little while ago.

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And that - that part up there? Was written a week ago. Clearly blogging is not a priority for me right now. It's funny, because not only have I not been writing, but I haven't been reading either. This morning, I opened up my Google Reader to catch up with everyone, thinking that I would have a million posts to read. Turns out though, most of my bloggy besties have been quiet themselves lately too.

Good for us. Living life in the real world.

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The reality of the decision that Kevin and I made to have two children is hitting me hard. I was alright with it. Then I wasn't. Then I was. And wasn't again.

Now, today, I am alright with it. I like our family of five. I like how Colin fits in as the youngest. I like how Christopher gets to be both a little brother and a big brother. I like that soon, we'll be able to take the boys to Mallory's events. I like that soon, they will be old enough to leave for a bit, and I can have some one on one time with Kevin.

Last night though, I took dinner to a new mama in the neighborhood, and I saw the most beautiful, most delicious baby boy ever. I left wondering if he really was THAT perfectly perfect and gorgeous, or if it was just the baby bug getting me. I'm pretty sure he was really just that beautiful. I ached a little, thinking about the "never again."

I just have to keep reminding myself that it's nine months of pregnancy, a few hours of labor and delivery, and then it's a lifetime.

I think that I have enough children to keep my lifetime occupied. It's just hard thinking about being done.

That makes no sense. I'm well aware. I'm afraid you'll have to look for logic elsewhere today.

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Happy 5th blogoversary to Bon at Crib Chronicles. Hers was one of the first blogs I started reading when I got started five years ago. Her writing is beautiful. Stunning really. You should go by for a visit.

Daredevil

No need to wonder why my anxiety induced eczema is flaring like crazy lately. Just take a peek at my little daredevil.

He'll be 14 months old on Sunday and he is already climbing up and down the stairs; on and off of tables, chairs, sofas, and beds; in and out of the tub; and anywhere else he can find.

His favorite thing to do though, is to fly down the driveway as fast as possible on this little red riding car.



My next trip to Target will include:

1. Band Aids
2. Polysporin
3. Hair color to hide the greys
4. Helmet for Mr. Melon Head

It's a darn good thing I don't drink anymore. This kiddo would have me pouring some mommy juice with my second cup of coffee in the morning.

Pimento cheese for people who hate pimentos

I love pimento cheese.

I hate pimentos.

This has presented a problem for me most of my life. A problem, that is, until I came up with this genius solution.


No-Pimento Pimento Cheese


16 oz. shredded sharp Cheddar cheese
6 oz. softened cream cheese
1/2 C mayonnaise
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 can of chopped green chilies

Blend in food processor until creamy.


Voila. And, you're welcome. I recommend a big fat sandwich on wheat bread with slices of avocado.

Monday, Monday

Apparently, I have needed a hiatus. I didn't know I needed a hiatus, but it's been a little over two weeks since I wrote anything, and I haven't opened my Google Reader in over a month.

I'm just a little stabby.

Random things get to me. Things that don't have anything to do with me, and yet I find myself ticked off at them. A friend warned me that it would happen. Life goes on around you, and all of the sudden, you find yourself mad because none of their crap matters. Oh, your car broke? Fine. My daddy died. Oh, your house won't sell? Fine. My daddy died. Oh, your cat has cancer? Fine. So does my mother and my best friend AND MY DAD DIED. So shut up.

See? Totally ridiculous. And yet, I find it bubbling up randomly.

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Colin still isn't walking. He can, he just doesn't. It's fine by me. He'll do it when he is ready. In the meantime, he is busying himself by climbing up and down the stairs faster than Christopher does.

He also climbs up onto their little Ikea table. Giving him a place to stand, raise his imaginary stick and ROAR at the bad guys on Scooby Doo.

And into chairs. Enabling him to reach anything and everything that I have moved out of a less monkey like 14 month old.

And onto riding toys. Flinging himself down the driveway as fast as he possibly can, with a wild eyed grin on his face - one that stares back into my terrified gaze and says, "Get out of the way, Mom."

Colin still isn't talking either. He can, he just doesn't. He likes to point and scream. He also likes to mimic whatever you say so distinctively, it's creepy. Like whole sentences back to you. I've never heard a baby do that before, and it's kind of bizarre.

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Barney has infiltrated our home. It's my own fault. And the fault of Netflix. I regret it already.

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If you are local, I would love for you to come see Bill Leslie and Lorica in concert this Saturday night. We'll be at the Performing Arts Center at Johnston County Community College. Tickets are $17 in advance and $20 at the door. You can find out more about it here: Bill Leslie and Lorica concert information.

Grumpy

I'm just grumpy. No fun to be around. Grumpy.

Stupid spring. Stupid trees budding and making my allergies try and kill me. Making me grumpy.

My mind jumps around so quickly that I can't even remember what I was going to write about by the time I open the page. It's frustrating.

Know what annoys me? When you have a friend request out to someone on Facebook, and their privacy settings are such that you can see when they become friends with someone else. But they just leave your friend request outstanding. Dude. Grow a pair and hit "ignore." Whatever. I just click over and rescind the request. It's not a big deal. Just annoying.

Know what else annoyed me? The really stupid flower delivery person who walked into the hospice room next door to my daddy's with a basketball shaped balloon that said on it, "Bounce Back Soon." I was standing in the hallway with Daddy's hospice case worked and tried to get her to stop the delivery person, but she didn't even get why. Um, really? "Bounce Back Soon?" Granted, it turned out that she was just carrying more than one delivery and that particular balloon wasn't for the hospice patient, but still. Couldn't make two trips? Really?

Know what else annoys me? Bras. My belly. My skin.

Also annoying? City of Raleigh home inspectors. Plumbing inspector #1 comes and wants some of the interior pipes changed. Plumber changes pipes. For the re-inspection, plumbing inspector #2 comes and wants the connection under the house changed. Really? You couldn't give us a freaking complete list of what needed to be changed the first time? No. You couldn't. Because Raleigh home inspection is based on the opinion of whatever redneck they happen to send out that day.

See? Grumpy. Snarky.

I could use a donut. But we are trying to give up refined sugar. That. Is also. Annoying.

Know a good joke? I could use a chuckle.

Almost two weeks gone

I miss him. I didn't expect to miss him, but I do.

There are things that I would have told him if he were still here. Things that aren't important, but that I could have told him. 

I chose my words carefully the last few years. One of Daddy's Parkinson's symptoms was anxiety. I never wanted to add to that anxiety, so I chose my words very carefully. 

We talked about the weather. A lot.

I guess that aside from death being such an unforgiving separation, the timing of it was particularly harsh. We buried Daddy on February 12, the day before my parents were engaged. Two days before Valentine's Day. Six days before Momma and Daddy's 44th anniversary (yes, their engagement was a whopping five days long). Twelve days before my birthday.

This will be the first year I don't get a card from my daddy.

Last year, he sent me a card. I got my feelings hurt because Momma didn't sign it or send one herself. That seems particularly stupid of me now. But last year, I got this card. It was a super sweet "Happy Birthday, Daughter" card that he picked out at the store. 

Daddy wrote on the front of the card. He did it all by himself. I couldn't read what he wrote except for the part where he loved me.

I always got the message that he loved me.

I've been looking for that card all day long. I know I didn't throw it away, but I can't find it.

Tomorrow is going to be a very lonely day if I can't find a birthday card from my daddy.

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I've been going through old pictures. The wedding album from my first marriage has some of my favorite pictures of me and Daddy. 

I was so young.

He was so healthy.

We were having such a good time.

Dr. Sclater played the same arrangement of "Amazing Grace" at my wedding that he did at Daddy's memorial service.

It was 14 years ago. Only six years before Daddy's diagnosis. 

It doesn't seem like that long ago.

In his passing

We are home. My boys are sleeping in their own beds for the first time in two weeks. Two of the four of us have a stomach bug. The dogs are somewhat happy to see us, but not altogether glad to be sharing the leather sofa again. I've opened the mail, thanked the neighbor who cared for the pups, and made a list of the appointments I need to reschedule.

Life is back to normal.

Except that this past Saturday, we buried my daddy.

Daddy died sometime within a half hour of me writing the post, "It's Time." In fact, if I hadn't written it and had gone on to the hospital, I would have been there when he passed.

I don't think he wanted that though. He took his last breath while my momma had closed her eyes for a much needed cat nap. She slept for about 20 minutes and woke up to find that he had stopped breathing.

Thank God.

My daddy has been healed. He no longer suffers from Parkinson's Disease. His mind is no longer tortured with dementia.

At least, that is the attitude I try to take.

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I haven't cried much. The day of his service was a day I spent being proud of him. His casket was draped in the American flag, and Taps was to be played at the end of the graveside service. Granted, the soldier didn't check his horn before he got there, and it didn't work, leaving us all sitting in extended awkward silence, but I was still proud. Proud of my daddy, the Vietnam veteran.

The front parking lot of the church was almost full when we arrived for the memorial service. There were friends there from my high school days. There was a life long friend who drove in from Nashville and surprised me. There were people who helped raise me in that church. There were more people than I could have imagined - who all came to honor the man I was lucky enough to claim as my daddy.

The music was beyond perfect. New Orleans style jazz arranged by my professor - rather, my dear friend. He and his wife provided all the music for the service. The solo was the jazz arrangement of Amazing Grace that my daddy loved. We marched out of the sanctuary to the most fabulous arrangement of When the Saints Go Marching In that you will ever hear. That Daddy didn't get to hear.

I keep expecting to have a break down. Be angry. Be devastated. Be inconsolable.

It hasn't happened yet.

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Sitting in the room with my dead father was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, I think. I wanted to run. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be anywhere but there, but at the same time, I wouldn't have been anywhere but right there with my family.

His eyes were clear and focused for the first time since I saw him in hospice. I couldn't stop staring at them, wondering what it was that he saw as he took his last breath.

It came time to leave him, and I hadn't touched him or spoken to him. He was dead. I didn't see much point. But something kept me from leaving without telling him good bye one last time.

I walked back to the bed and leaned over to kiss his head. His skin was cool. I let my tears fall, and I didn't wipe them from his face.