Jergens' Lotion

I would give anything if I could smell that smell again.  Especially tonight. Just a plain ole lotioney smell. Not something I could rub on and sniff, but a mixture of Oil of Olay, Vitamin E cream, and Jergens' Lotion.  I know for a fact it was Jergens because I remember all the bottle sitting around.
Weeks like this week, days like these last couple of days, and hours like these last few hours, are the times I realize how much I miss my mammaw. It didn't matter what she was doing, it didn't matter how tired she was, she was always there. Always there waiting with an open heart, an open mind, 2 open ears, and 2 open arms.  Tonight, I really miss those 2 arms mammaw.  Tonight, I wish I knew I could go to bed and call you in the morning and tell you I was coming down for a while to talk.  You knowingly would prepare a pot of coffee, some biscuits and gravy for the boys, and be ready with tissues.
When my growing pains would hurt as a little girl, my mammaw would massage Icy Hot into them for nearly an hour. I would cry because my legs would hurt so so so bad, and she would sit there, with my chubby legs in her feeble arthritic hands and massage away.
I would sing and sing and sing as I listened to her old 8 track player, and she told me I would be famous one day.  That I was gonna be a star, just like Dolly Parton.  Not just the boobs, but singing and all.
When I got older and I would want to stay with her in North Carolina so bad, but never stayed away from home, she wouldn't force me to stay or go, but encouraged me to.  In spite of her and daddy meeting half way the next morning, I still managed to stay that one night away from home.
When I got married (the first time), she was soooooo proud of me.  She told me that at my reception.  That she was so proud that I had turned out to be a beautiful woman ( like her ) and that I was following my heart, no matter what everyone else said.  Years and years later when I went to her crying that I was getting a divorce, then later crying because people thought I was crazy for getting married again, she repeated those same words.  She was so proud of me for following my heart and not listening to everyone else. She loved Royal.  She would hug on him just as she did me, and that tickled him since his grandparents lived so far away.
When Landon was born, she bragged and bragged on him to everyone.  She said he was different.  There was something special about that one, and he was gonna do big big things one day.  After Rylan was born, she called me constantly to bring him down to play with the chickens.  He still to this day cries, "Mammaw, bock bocks", anytime we go near Elms Springs Ridge.
I miss you.  I miss you more than I can even express, and I'm sorry that I took for granted those little moments mammaw.  I hope that one day I can be half the mother and grandmother that you were to all of us.  I love you.

Random Shit My Toddler Does

Rylan woke up in "one of those moods".  The bossy-so-Im-gonna-get-my-way-or-Ill-slap-you-and-then-scream moods.  So I started my wood-burning projects this morning and flipped on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in hopes that might pep him up a bit.  It actually seemed to be working for a while until " Soopid Goopy" had to ruin it.  I stayed silent the whole time, and just sat back and waited for a good fit....

All the gang had turned into babies in the time machine, because they didn't listen to the Professor. Not very good role models. Anyways, so Clarabelle decided to sing nursery rhymes. She was singing "Patti-cake" when Rylan starts screaming "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo! Noooooooooooooooooo moo moo, no right, no right Mama. Moo moo sing Patti-cake no right!"  :::horrifying scream followed by fake tears:::  Turns out, Clarabelle ( who thinks she's all that and a bag of cookies) decides to change the lyrics and Rylan couldn't stand it.  I don't blame him really.  So he finishes his little fit and then along comes Goofy and some rubber duckies.  Well, Rylan can count to 10, he does it all the time, but...today he doesn't think 3 is a part of the 1 to 10 run.  Goofy starts counting and Rylan counts with him but Rylan says, "One, twooooooo, fourrrrrr... Noooooooooooo Goopy! No No Goopy! No right, it one two four!"  Goofy pretends he doesn't hear Rylan, which makes Rylan even more mad, and keeps recounting the rubber duckies up to 8. "Nooooooooo! Goopy! Mean Mean! I said Nooooooooooooooooooooo! One twooooo fourrrr Goopy! No freeeee, no freee! It fourrrrrr!"  ::horrifying scream then sudden complete silence::  Rylan walks over to the tv, reaches his little arm around the side and since he can't see the panel he runs his fingers up the side until he fines what he's looking for and pushes it.  The tv screen goes black, he smiles, turns around walks out onto the porch shaking his head and under his breath he giggles and says, "Soopid Goopy."

One of those days

A while back I had one of those days.  One of those days were drama surrounds you no matter where you try to hide.  A day when the spouse was never satisfied and seemed to keep picking fights, A day when family members kept pushing emotional buttons that made me want to go off. A day when one kid drew on the fish tank with markers and crayons and the other left markers on the couch that leaked. You know....one of those days.
I had ran the husband and children off on an errand so I could finish working in candles without having the urge to stick a wick in them and set them on fire.  I knew without a doubt that I needed to pray.  Yup, just out of nowhere I knew I needed to pray. I knew a phonecall was coming any time, over a situation that was merely created with someone else's emotions and imagination running wild. I had expected it a few hours earlier, but any time now it would ring, and if I didn't pray...oh goodness. Without talking with God first, I would end up cursing and ruining a close bond I would never be able to fully rekindle, plus it would've taken forever and used up tons of Verizon minutes.  So I took a deep breath, turned on my Air 1 app, and I started my prayer aloud, "Help me, Lord. I know I....".  I stopped.  Before I could even finish, or start for that matter "IT" came on.  THE song.  THE song I've always resorted to when this type of issue ate at me..."Losing."  

That's all it took to break down this hardened heart and make me apologize for getting so flustered and nearly resorting to 'mine enemies' level.  I, as if off a dramatic movie, fell like a child to my knees in my dirty kitchen floor.  Pieces of the song floating in my ear as God held me "It's wearing out my heart, the way they disregard. This is love, This is hate.  We all have a choice to make."  My heart has been growing so tired, so so tired.  So tired of worrying and hurting over those who are supposed to love us the most.  I love them, but hate what they had done to my spirit.  

As the song continued so did the tears and the prayers. I figured the phone would be ringing any minute, but I didn't care. God wasn't finished yet. God was easing my heart, lifting that awful hatred off of me, and it was as simple as that. As weird as it sound, as I was talking to God I found myself laughing.  Laughing because after all these months of finding my way to deal with this "situation" I had let ONE tiny little thing set me off!  I was thanking God, still on my knees, wiping the snot and tears away with my candles scented shirt, and said aloud, "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhew. Better.  Now what?"  And honest to God, no joke, the lyrics (now from another song spoke immediately after I finished, "I dare you to move. I dare you to pick yourself up off of the floor.  I dare you to move, like today never happened before."

His message was clear. I had a choice to make, do I resort to hate?  Thinking that would change their hearts?  That "hate" coming from me would make them realize their faults? Nope. Not at all, so I had to chose the love route and let God work on them, work on me, and give me the Grace to forgive them and wisdom to chose the right path.  And with that message had been delivered and I asked, "Now what?", he came with another message.  To simply get up off the floor, continue on with my day and my life like this "hate" episode of mine never happened.  We've all had "One of those days" and God was nudging me to go on.

I stood up, dusted my legs off, moved my hair from my eyes, and just like that...the phone rang.

A dose of 'Get Lost' for breakfast

No amount of medication, wine, therapy, or yoga could contain my emotions at this time of day.  And by emotions, I mean anger and frustration.  Why am I writing about anger so early in the morning? Well, for one, as my momma would say, "You should've went to church yesterday." Two, I don't like mornings. No one really likes mornings, except for the fact that you didn't die in your sleep.

What do you do when you hear the words "Mom! Watch!", "Mom c'mere", "Mom! Guess what?!" nearly a hundred times before 10:00am?! Well, if you're a good (or gullible) mom you watch, you c'mere, and you guess.  So is it too much to ask from the little offspring to not bite, kick, punch holes in the wall, rip diapers in two as if they're Hulk Hogan, all before the sun can even shine thru the fog? Why yes it is. Shame on me for telling you "No. You can't stick a Qtip in the cat's butthole."  "No, you can't eat the soggy dogfood on the porch."  "No, you can't ride with your dad on the lawn mower even though there's water standing in the yard, and it's Labor Day, and it's 8:00am in the morning, and any other time I'd have to bribe him to do so."

I don't like mornings.  In all honestly and fairness, I really don't like mid mornings or any other time frame prior to the p.m. mark. Coffee merely boosts your energy just enough to give you the strength to yell at the things around you that have obviously schemed all night on how to piss you off the next day. Maybe it is just me, but mornings make me mean.  I can bold faced look into my husband's eyes and without hesitation or any emotion say, "You know what? I don't like you.  You get on my nerves, and you will continue to do so until 12:00pm. Come back and ask me where the key to the garage is then, and I might tell you."

They make a morning-after pill, they need to make a night-before pill that keeps the next morning-anger from impregnating me.  I've tried coffee.  I've tried exercising (which only irritates me more seeing my flab jiggle that early in the day and sweating and smelling like I've done something productive when I have merely burnt 1/2 the calories from the latte I drunk to give me the energy to exercise anyways). I've tried prayer, which actually does work...for a while, but then I think sometimes even God kicks back and watches the show.

I've been this way all my life.  There's videos with me in my Popples night gown with a tooth missing and my fro in full force, and my mom has the nerve to ask, "What's wrong flawsy mae? You got the mully grubs?" with a camera sticking in my face, followed by my dad doing the most annoying whistle that to this day makes me cringe as he laughs and says, "Wake up little rose bud...wake uuuUUUUUUUpppp".  Why taunt me?! I was a kid!  And now I'm scarred and bitter for hours EVERY day all because my parents bullied me in the mornings as a child. Yup. That's what I'm going with.

In the beginning...

Well, here we go.  I've debated on this for a long time, but after many have suggested it, and before my emotions lead to a front page newspaper stating, "Reopening Lakeshore Asylum specifically to admit local crafty tattooed non-sensational singer and mom of 2 due to keeping her mouth shut for too long resulting in ducktaping her mouth shut and locking herself in a closet for days before someone found her."
Some days this blog with be therapeutic, some days this blog will be my kleenex, some days this blog will get cursed at, some days this blog will be boring, some days perhaps empty, some day amusing, and some days completely honest and serious.  None the less, this is my place to jabber and my place to vent and share stories with whoever else might want to read.  I'll begin this tonight, and hopefully every night till I no longer can.  Most nights, I'll probably be hiding in the bathroom pretending to be doing number 2, just so I can be alone and type.