Happy Old Year!!!

Happy Old Year!!

I just wanted to make sure I got that in before the last bell tolls. No one ever wishes me one, so I thought I would get on here and wish it to everyone! (You know all 4 of you who read my crazy stuff.) It is sad that Happy Old Year is not wished or celebrated, why do we have to focus on the New stuff anyways?

I do love an adventure, don't get me wrong. Figuring out things and adding new thoughts to my silly little head is quite entertaining. Also trying to figure out new ways of bastardizing the English language is challenging, I have so much competition ya know. I look forward to our New Year and beginnings.

New Year is about things you don't know. What is in store for us as the the new calendar is flipped open to each new month? I mean,  you never really know how many times you are really gonna stub your pinky toe, do you? Whereas in the Old Year, you know that after the 4th time you felt you broke off that little appendage on the coffee table, you thought a little redecorating of the living room was in store, right? You also know how your hair looks in that hair do you tried out and that color shirt you thought was gonna look great. Instead you looked like a monk acolyte and that shade of orange did make your skin look green. I mean, that is GREAT information. How can you not be happy and celebrate that?

Of course there is that fear of the unknown and unforeseen, is that what we are really celebrating? I think we should celebrate what we did learn and now know. I think we should celebrate personal growth and understanding. Are we glad that any mistakes that we made in the year are behind us and we don't have to ruminate over them anymore? Are we free of unjoyful tidings we learned to overcome and become better despite them? Are we lamenting the partings of people who may not of been good in our lives? No, we found in ourselves inner strengths, new truths and perhaps better understanding of how our version of happiness is what makes us be. I think that is why we need to be celebrate the Old Year, because it is celebrating ourselves and those we love, and our journey. I think celebrating what is coming as a bit premature, as you don't know how you are really going to tackle those situations. It is almost akin to getting a pat on your back for winning a game you have not yet played. I think you should get the pat on the back for the game you have played. And played well, I might add.

Christmas Eve...Again

Quiet time... Peace On Earth time... One of the most predictable days of my entire year time.

I love Christmas, with all it's Joy and Love and gift giving/receiving. All the yummy food and family and friends. Snow on the ground and clear night skies to watch the stars twinkle. The tree in the living room giving off an ethereal glow. I can almost hear harps playing and angels alighting in my yard. I love it. Of course, due to the holiday and what it entails with children at home, I know what I will be doing that day.

Back on December 25, 2006, I posted a silly little blog on MySpace (don't judge) about my Christmas holiday. And frankly I don't see that much has changed at all. I still feel the need to offer up the baked goods, I think it is a genetic thing. I see all sorts of stories and Facebook posts of my families wondrous oven-baked love. My motivation toward doing it though is mostly just the need of thinking it's a good idea, then not doing it. It's okay, I hardly announce my plans to douse the family with carbohydrates so they hardly miss it.

After the near miss of oven loving is followed by The Wait. I wait for kids to eat dinner. I wait for kids to watch a movie, I wait for kids to get ready for bed. I wait for them to stop asking go to the bathroom, and asking for water. I wait for them to actually fall asleep. I tried that "lock them in the dungeon" routine before. My yelling and screaming at them to quit doing anything but mimicking a plank and breathing seems oh so much more effective. Plus it sure stirs up my heart rate. How could using a form of cardio not be a good thing?

The Wait was what I usually thought of as the hardest part, that is until I found out what a shopper my husband really is. That man likes to buy, he LOVES to just drown the kids in presents. Everything and anything cool is usually something he gets. If the kids get a set of clothes and bedding, I probably picked it out. If they got the latest xBox 360 game, he tossed it in the cart. Oh well, at least I know my gift choices make for warmer days or nights, right? No, The Wait is not the hardest part, not with the Shopaholic there to give me sleep deprived seizures. He gets so much cool stuff, but does he wrap the majority of it? Yea, that's right. I have the skill, so I wrap until I keel. I remember one year wondering if it REALLY was 3:30am or was I just hallucinating from tape and paper fumes. Alas, I was not and that Christmas is forever stricken from the family albums and not even mentioned in whispers out of my earshot. Most of the kids don't even know why the restrictions LOL

I know that I would solve any and all problems of late wrapping if I would just wrap as I go, but come on, we all have our own little Holiday Traditions, right? And I won't even pretend mine are healthier than most, because I am sure my health has declined just from Christmas alone.

That being said, I am passing The Wait by writing a bit on my blogs, but I do believe that I hear the Merry Shopping Elf giggling in the closet where the gifts are hidden, so I had better go rein him in until the proper time for wrapping magic.

Merry Christmas everyone, please love any and all, no matter who they are and what they have done. It's the Season for New Beginnings and Peace, but only by our own works. <3

Just a little me

I won't lie. It's been a crazy mix of emotions kind of week for me. And typically I write only because of a few emotions such as anger/frustration, silliness/joy or thoughtful/insightfulness. I hardly can stand to write when feeling over whelmed or sad. And I can honestly say this week has hit those points. The more entertaining part of my emotional psyche did come out to play, but when things hit a low I just had an utter lack of desire to write.

I imagine I would of had fun trying to frame words around some possible business opportunities that may be an option in a few months to come, or the possible job offer. I had hit some milestones with potty training (not me, my grandson), and what not. Most likely these little tidbits won't make it to print, as I write on the spur of the moment and don't usually ruminate about my verbal flights of fancy. Sort of a lost episode of Firefly kind of deal. It makes me a little bummed, but I am sure in a few more days time, my brain and fingers will get together and come up with something I know I will find entertaining.

I hope you hold your family a little tighter, love a little freer, and remember that this Christmas Season is about much more than the best decorations, the right present or endless lists. It's about family, whether you are related by blood or not, and maybe more importantly it's about love for all.

Don't eat at my house...

Originally written on Mar 1, 2007


Seriously, you wouldn't like it. I make promises of succulency seared steak; large, baked to perfection potatoes; and some fresh assortment of baby vegetables, sauteed in a light butter sauce. And when the blessed night arrives with those promises of delight for my families palate, I yell at them over my shoulder as I type out my latest blog and tell them the Ultra K Discount T.V. Dinners are in the freezer.

Honestly I don't know why they complain. I mean, if you take the main course from Wanda's Wonder Meat Surprise, add the veggie section of Maynard's Muskogee Corn Dog and top the meal off with the frozen, pre-strained, de-flavored mash potatoes from Kylie's Kickin Chicken, you have something very approximate to what I planned on offering anyways, at one tenth of the cost!

Oh don't get me wrong, I have made some pretty near gourmet meals in my lifetime, I'm just afraid none of my children under the age of 16 have ever had them. And the children old enough to actually have sampled my stylized cooking, were really much too young to appreciate it.

I do have a nearly legitimate reason for causing voluntary malnutrition in my household; I work. Who out there (out the 2 people left who read my blog) doesn't know what I am talking about? I mean come on, do you really want to come home from work and start mashing dead cow protein in a large bowl with an unfertilized chicken egg, toss in some secret spices (salt and pepper), top with ketchup and bake? Don't you spend most of your day with eggs that should be unfertilized and cows you wanna mash anyways?

To those of you out there who do spend their time with barn animals parading as humans, my hats off to you if you actually spend 3 minutes of your night on each child's meal you microwave, cause that how we roll at my house...

This one put me in my place

Originally written on Mar 2, 2007


There is NOTHING like being put in your place. That special moment, where you realized without a doubt how an ideal or self-reality you hoped/dreamed/thought had its own little set place in the universe did not in fact exists. And having found that out, you again realize, you are really the loser those kids in elementary school said you were.

Imagine, feeling that you are the life of the party, the unpaid entertainment that wins you the free ticket to some good munchies and a round of beverages. Imagine, for one second that you are the popular friend in your little circle whom everyone loves to hang out because of your witticism and charm. Imagine, your children brag to *their* friends about how cool and funny and extremely smart their own mother is, and she even proves it on a semi-bi-nearly tri-weekly rate on an internet blog…

…When in fact you are not.

The premise my story of stems from wanting to toot my own horn, show myself how important I am to the people in my life. It all came crashing down to one little click; the My Readers link on my MySpace Blog. Imagine my utter shock seeing only ONE person. ONE PERSON!! WUUUUUUUUONNNNN PPPEERRRRRSSSSSON subscribed to my blogs!

Granted, I love Jamie to death for putting up with my random thoughts, incoherent ramblings and the total destruction of the English language set to screen. He is a brave soul and deserves some sort of metal, to be sure. But I had hoped that others were benefiting from my words of wisdom, and alas, 'tis not true. Where am going with this, I am not certain, but I do feel much better for ranting, and I thank you, my ONE and ONLY audience member for not throw that rotten tomato you are holding your hand…

APPEND~ I do only have one subscriber, my lovely, talented and I wanna grow up to be just like her one day cousin Sissy. I don't mind, I just find it funny that 5 years later I am in the same boat. - Cathy Maccabee 12/13/12

Not The Lemonade

Life is funny sometimes. I tend to want to plan it out and set out the path the way I want it to go. What usually happens is a different result, coming from an entirely different path. The point of it is to not take it as being hit by a blindside punch, but to enjoy the journey into something you were not expecting. I could say making lemonade, but I think it is much more than that.

Crying

Well I did it. I showed up at my parents house and had a good cry. I needed it. I had just finished cleaning some essentials out of my son's vehicle. He had a very traumatic head on collision, and lived to tell the tell. And just as good as that, his children were not in the vehicle at the time of the crash. However, all his clothes and other personal items were in the vehicle.

I enlisted the help of my 18 year old daughter and her boyfriend to help me. I am so glad I did, for two reasons. Firstly, there was no way I could of done this so quickly or easily. The condition of the items in the back of that Suburban were horrific. Boxes that had held clothes had just disintegrated and massive amounts of clothes for 3 people had been mixed wildly in with boxes of household goods. My tiny wisp of a daughter climbed in and dug like her life depended on it to toss clothes at myself and her boyfriend. I would of never been able to climb in and just toss clothes out the windows like that.

Secondly, I needed others there to put on a brave show. I knew I didn't want to see how massive the damage was, but I knew it was important for me and my son to see what kind of work that vehicle did to keep him alive. It worked double time and then some. You can't even imagine metal paneling folding over itself 3 times. This is something you have to see yourself, not that I recommend it at all. To know that a massive 5.7 liter engine shifted nearly a foot and a half to the passenger side of the engine compartment AND almost half a foot into the cab of the vehicle should be out of the realm of possible imagination for anyone. The frigid temperatures helped me keep my cool, it drove me to just focus on the job of photo documentation and getting what was necessary out of the SUV. I didn't want to break down and cry and make my baby girl think that I was an overly emotional and stressed mother, even though that is exactly what I was. Still am for that matter.

I felt a little weepy as I walked back to my vehicle after checking out of the impound lot. I knew it was going to be a long drive home just for the emotional baggage I was carrying. One fourth of the way into my drive I decided that I just need to gather my energy and see mom and dad. The urge to just break down was rearing it's ugly head and blurry vision and highway travel don't mix well on slick winter roads.

As I knocked at my mother's door, I choose not to look at her face and try to smile through the window like I usually did while she unlocked the door, I knew I needed a hug right away. And like the wonderful mother she is, I got that hug.

Grand-Dame-Ma

Any of you moms out there every feel like crap after flexing your Mom Muscle? Of course I know this is a silly question, but that is what is on my mind this morning. I had to pull out all the stops and flex like the Hulk taking down a Loki, and that was that. I still feel like crap though, but I know my outburst was warranted and it did produce some results I feel more comfortable about. I feel a little comforted by the fact that I know I am appreciated, and most who I gave the verbal lashing to, understood I was under duress. Oh well, I shall call this another chapter in Life of Mediocre Mom and find a way to draw a picture about it in pixel art.

Life, as it is... A Mother's Worst Nightmare

Life as it is, can be crazy, even for a crazy person, such as myself. I get to use the phrase "every mother's nightmare" and expand on it, not really exciting but more of a landmark. At some time in your life, if you have children, you will most likely be exposed to a trauma or fear or circumstance that just blows you out of the water. I have had a few close scrapes and my mini panic attacks about them, but nothing as severe as what happened last Friday.

I had just declined watching my son's children. I was tired, and I didn't sleep well the night before. I felt bad for it too, I love the little buggers but sometimes they require a bit more energy than I feel I can muster when I know they are on their way. I was thinking about arranging the weekend so my son could get as many hours as he wanted Saturday and Sunday, but that Friday I really just needed and wanted to relax. Of course, as Fate would have it, my scheduled activities were on a very opposite course.

I got the call while I was listening to my ambient music. Listening to it is something I love to do when I am writing or relaxing and just want a little mental alone time or to clear my head. The call was from a number I did not recognize and hesitated to answer it. On the other side of the line was a frantic woman, who sounded like she was on the edge of horrified. That of course this piqued my interest right away, I sat straight up in my bed. She said she was calling for Chris' mom and that he already had her call his work and that he had been at an accident and he looked hurt but was doing okay. Of course at that point I heard a male voice groan from the background of her phone call.

I thought I would feel blood draining from my face or a little woozy or even extreme panic, like a chicken running around with it's head cut off, but I didn't. I knew it was close to him going to work, but I had to make sure if there the kids were in the vehicle with him. I felt like I was stumbling over the words and not explaining my question well enough but I heard her ask in the back ground to someone groaning if there were kids in the car. I could hear his voice before she relayed the message, 'no they were at home being watched'. I don't remember what she said and could not think of anything else to say so I told her thank you for helping him out and let him know I will be at the emergency room waiting for him.

It was a blur of grabbing charging cords and having my middle son start up the car, I told my husband what had happened. He knew I needed to get out of the house and on my way to see our son ASAP. Knowing I needed gas didn't even phase me in choosing to go to the ER first. I knew I could worry about the tank later, the most important thing was to be there for my son, and to know that he was okay.

I saw two ambulances at the bay doors at the hospital but had figured I had beat his ride by a long shot. I knew he had not been loaded in a vehicle when the good Samaritan had called. With my luck I had a wait. I checked in at the front desk, and a very kind and motherly women made sure to take down my son's name and date of birth so she could direct me to his room when he got there. As I chose my seat I looked for one that faced the Ambulance Bay doors and watched as the two red trucks were cleaned up and readied for their next trip out.

Of course, like the cool place it is, the Emergency Room intercom system piped it's alert messages not only to the back with the waiting personal and staff, but to were us poor saps who sit and wait get to hear it. I heard an ETA of 4 minutes and was comforted that my wait would be just a short while longer. I was agitated and anxious about the alert code and what it meant for injury level and staff readiness. To my undying thanks the motherly women was watching out for me and came right over and explained as much information as she could about the nature of his injury and what his status was, from the information she got from the attending EMT. I was comforted and worried but not nearly as so if she had not been so kind.

It didn't take long for her to usher me in to his room after he was wheeled in. And oh what a site, blood and bandages caught my attention but I quickly looked away. I didn't want to loose it or become faint, not that I believed I would, I just didn't want any complications for what my job was here: to be there for my son.

The sweet women who lead me in warned me that he was going to look a mess but I let her know he was the 2nd oldest of 5, I had seen quite a bit of it all (though this was not even close to anything I had experienced before) and I think I would do fine. She seemed a bit relieved and impressed and left me at his room.

He noticed me right a way and smiled, I knew he would be okay if he could smile. He loves me unerringly and would smile when he walked in the door of my house, but his smile gave me a lot of comfort.

He was a mess, bits of glass were sparkling on his cheeks and in his hair, his left hand looked like it when through a window and probably had. His pillow held all sorts of dust and hair, and a couple of blood spots. But the star of the night was his lower leg. They had to keep it uncovered for the most part, to assess the wound and set up for mobile x-ray. And I tried my best not to look still fearing that it would be more than I could take. I kept talking with him, even making silly jokes like the ones him and I like to share, and when I felt he was truly himself and not suffering from some devastating organ injury I glanced at his break.

A compound fracture is a break of the bone that happens to exit the body through the skin to become expose to all manner of elements and contaminants. I won't go into detail, but I can say it's not everyday a parent can look at the actual bones inside their child's body without the help of an x-ray machine.

 Maybe it's a morbid curiosity or just wanting to know what his status really was and what to expect next but I looked it over as closely as I could without getting in the way of anyone treating him. In fact I am impressed at my display of medical treatment ballet I have when working around medical personal. I could spin, move and sashay out of the way and be back to hold his hand in a heartbeat.

The worst of it is he is going to be healing for a very long time; the best of it is I have my son. He is not dead, I am not planning a funeral nor am I wondering about how much time will I get to spend with his children since he is separated from their mother. Those would be the worst. I got to live through every mother's nightmare and live to tell the tell. I know I am given all that which I can handle and I keep hoping I don't need to keep taking the next step, but I will take each step as I need to for each of my children, my own or grand. I don't want to live in any sort of nightmare but I will deal with it head on and do my best with it.