Life As It Does

Lead by Example or Shut the Hell Up!

2012-01-11T21:00:00.000-06:00

"Move!" That was the statement that started the battle between me and Fiance.He walked over to my 8-year old, who was playing on my iPad and said, "Move!" My son frowned and looked at Fiance and then at me, and I softly said, "He meant excuse me, but move J." Fiance became angered and said, "No, I didn't."Then, it was on. His point: In my home, children can have the entire house, but my bedroom is my oasis.My point: I work hard to teach the boys to be respectful toward me, each other, and everyone else. Talking to them like undoes all my hard work.I'm not backing down. He's on one side of the bed, and I'm on the other, and this is the way it's going to be until he finds it within himself to see things my way.Here's the funny: Today, we went to marriage counseling at the church. And it went well. We smiled, the pastor smiled, and we felt good about being a component of this happy couple. We got done and went about our days and all was good. And at some point we arrived at the point where I heard Frank tell my son, "Move!" and it all went downhill. Well, he didn't EXACTLY apologize, but he gave me what I needed and we are talking again. Lord, help this marriage! I think I can hang on.

My (Short) Journey to the Alter - Part 3: He's Got a Temper

2011-12-19T21:49:00.002-06:00

We met a couple of months ago. We were engaged before I had the directions to his house down. We're less than 2 months from tying the knot - if he gets his way - but I will NOT forget that we are still in rehearsal. . But he did.I'm in this. . don't get me wrong. . I've committed to the idea of tying myself to another human being for a lifetime. . But I'm no fool. I'm not going to tie myself to some crazy lunatic who does not have his shit together. 'This evening I saw some qualities that I didn't like. He has a temper. And I don't think I saw all of it. I think he checked himself because (at the last minute) he realized that he was in rehearsal, and had lost some cool points. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, yeah Dude. He left. . hopefully to get his head together. When he returns we'll pull it together and get back to this rehearsal. No harm no foul if he plays his cards right. . But these are the moments we need to have because if he was perfect for four months I'd probably chicken out. So, this is good. . I'm OK. But you better believe I'm going to work this incident for all it's worth. . LOL. . Back to rehearsing my lines. . Life is lovely!

My (Short) Journey to the Altar - Part 2: Frank Pops the Question

2011-11-21T16:29:00.001-06:00

So, where did I leave off? I was having a bad day, week, month; so I stepped out to Jazzie's my favorite club. I met a jerk who after a few drinks and an apology for being a jerk, actually turned out not to be so bad. And here we go with the rest of the quick timeline recap:

I ended up giving the guy, Frank, my phone number because over the course of the night, he actually turned out to be a gentleman. I gave him a quick interview and determined that he didn't exhibit any stalker tendencies, so that was cool, too.

We met on Saturday (the 1st)- late; and by the end of the night. . or the beginning of the morning (since we met about midnight), Frank professed that he loved me. "Agape love" was how he described it. . and wanted me to be his wife. HA! HA! HA!

Now, I've had guys at the club throw some pretty strong game at me, but seriously. You want to marry me? Well, OK.

We spoke on Sunday, but I limited the discussions because that whole I love you and want to marry you within a couple of hours of meeting you was a bit much.

11/03/11By Monday, Frank had gotten the message, and backed off on the serious stuff. He went another direction. Since I told him I was going to be rushing home from work to bring my son to baseball practice, he called me on the way home, and told me that he had picked up pizzas for my kids and wanted me to grab them before I headed home.

I swung by Frank's place and picked up the pizza, and he had another surprise: he had purchased an engagement ring, went down on one knee, and proposed. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!!

You want to push me into freak out mode? Propose one day after I meet you.

But that's Frank. That's how he rolls.. He did that. I was shocked, but I've recovered. . And, now we're engaged. . 7 weeks now. .

Wedding ceremony is scheduled for my birthday next year: October 27, 2012.

But Frank is filled with surprises.. Surprise! We are planning to elope on Valentine's Day: February 14, 2012. More to come on that one. . More to come on this whole journey as it un-folds.

My (Short) Journey to the Altar - Part 1: Meeting Frank

2011-11-21T15:39:00.001-06:00

At a point in my life when I wasn't even looking, I met the man that I'm now engaged to. ENGAGED to a man I met about 6 weeks ago. 6 weeks!!! I feel really confident that at some point I'm going to take a breather, and for whatever reason, reflect back on this experience to see exactly how it evolved. So, I'm forcing myself to take a long enough break from working through this situation to actually document my course. Here's a quick timeline recap:

10/1/11:

Having a bad day, week, month, I decided to get all sexy and step out to Jazzie's. I needed a drink. I needed a self-esteem booster. I just needed to interact with adults.

As soon as I pulled into a parking spot, the guy with the BMW parked next to me shouted, "Do NOT scratch my car!" I was having a bad day, but decided that it was probably better to bite my tongue until I got a drink, so I let the guy make it. I got out of my car, and went around to the other side to retrieve my trench coat and purse, and again, the guy shouted out, "Do NOT scratch my car!". . Now, I'm agitated.. I mean, I just let him make it.. But, again, I held my tongue, got my stuff out of the car, and walked up to the door of the club. . with this guy right behind me. .

When I had approached the door, I stood there for a second waiting for this guy to do what I was accustomed to doing - hold the door, so I could walk in - and after about 15 awkward seconds, I realized that he wouldn't. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh, is he insane? Ok. Well whatever.

As soon as I got into the club, I told James Hill, the guy who worked the door about the jerk who was tripping over his car AND did not hold the door. I was SO pisst.

Well, anyway, the jerk went his way and I went mine. . My way was near the door, in the corner. I vented to James about how crappy my day, week, month was and he started sending me drinks. . strawberry daiquiris. . lots and lots of strawberry daiquiris.. that I sipped on all night. Before I could even drink a whole one, another one would come, so I really could not tell you how many I drank. Pretty quickly, I forgot about how badly my day, week, month had been or how big of a jerk the guy I met in the parking lot was. The night was going much better. . So, at some point I decided to head out to the dance floor.

And then it happened, I was approached by the jerk from the parking lot. Of course, at this point, he didn't look so jerky. He actually looked pretty nice looking. But that was not going to stop this me from getting an apology. I would get an apology. I was on tonight, and he approached me like it didn't matter.

So, jerk asked me to dance.. But before he would, I made him apologize. "So, you're the guy who was tripping in the parking lot, and then did not hold the door?!! Are you kidding me?!!" He apologized, and it was over. Well, sort of..

The Most Difficult Conversation with a 10 year old: Why Daddy had to leave

2011-10-11T16:26:00.001-05:00

Three years ago I made the decision to let go of the man I had spent 14 years building a life with. It was a decision I made over the course of two years; battling with myself and those close to me who saw the destruction the relationship was creating in my life and in my spirit. It was really awful in the end. But it's over, and I'm happier.

But my children are not.

In fact, for 3 years, my 10 year old son has been unhappy, frustrated, violent, ill-mannered. I have gone through bouts of worrying and praying, that still have not ended.

But on Monday, I made some gains.

I dropped Jordan off at basedball practice at 6pm. He struggled with his huge bag of bats, balls, gloves, and stuff. But insisted on getting to the field with all his stuff all by himself. Ok, that's usual.

At 6:30pm, Jordan called and said he was ready to be picked up from practice. . Hmmmmmmmmmm. short practice, but OK.

I picked Jordan up, but noticed that the other kids and coaches were still on the field, so I asked Jordan what the deal was. He started to cry and told me that the coach made him sit in the dugout because his attitude was bad. {This is a very familiar and long story.} I started to just nod my head and drive off, but couldn't resist digging deeper. I pulled my car into the nearest parking lot and started tallking to Jordan about what happened, and ended up insisting that he go back to the coach and give him a heartfelt apology.

Well, when you're young, and hot-headed, that's pretty much the last thing you wanna do. But I stood my ground, and I made him do it. Then, he returned to the car, stone faced and stared out the window.

I'm desperate to figure out how to get through my son, so I started asking him questions: "What's wrong?" Nothing. "Are you sad?" Yes. "Did someone hurt you?" No. "You know you can talk to me, right?" Yes. "Did someone touch you." No. "Do you need more attention?" No. "You know I love you right?" No.

OK. This is madness. I was determined to get to the root of why my sweet boy was so sad and mean right now.

I drove the remaining 1.5 minute to the house in silence. But as soon as we arrived at the house, I told Jordan to come to my room and closed the door. I sat him on the bed, forced him to look me in the eye, and asked him the question I've avoided asking for three years. "Are you sad that your Daddy is not here?"

And then it happened. He cracked. He started crying. . softy at first. . then he started to moan. . and rolled up inyp the fetal position on the floor. . moaning. . as if I had kicked him in the gut really hard.

I melted to the floor beside Jordan, picked him up in my arms, stroked his hair, held him close to me, and we cried. . for about 30 minutes. . We both cried. . Once he stopped moaning and starting sobbing, and I had caught my breath enough to complete a sentence, I asked my 10 year old if I could talk to him like a big boy.

When he agreed, I told him the best way I knew how that me and his dad were really sad when we were together. He was a good boy, and had nothing to do with our decision to part ways. And that we were sad that we couldn't make things work just for him, because we loved him SO much, but we couldn't. And that sometimes, I'm sad that his dad is not there, too.

That discussion took so much out of me. It was so hard to hear in my child's voice the pain our decision had caused him. This was the opposite of what I wanted to accomplish by the split. I hoped and prayed that we split in time to protect our kids from the hurt, sadness, and meanness that we were wrapped up in at the end. But it appears that I failed.

After I gave Jordan the big boy talk, I asked him if it would be OK if he, me and his Dad sat down this week and talked through what we could do to make his life better. And he smiled. He smiled! This child who had not really smiled from ANYTHING I had said for 3 years, looked at me with tears in his eyes and the most genuine smile I had ever seen. . Again, I cried because in that smile I felt joy.

I called The Ex, and I told him about my convo with Jordan, and he's a good Dad, so he said all the right things. I'm going to continue to pray - I'll never stop. And now I already feel like God has started changing things for the best. I feel like I've gotten my son back.

Jordan didn't just smile when I told him about the Big Boy talk we would have with his dad, he's been smiling ever since. He's 10. I know he will not hold on to this smile for much longer. But God got me through the most difficult conversation you can have with a 10 year old boy: why daddy had to leave, and I know he won't fail me now.

Thank you Jesus!

Just Wow! What did I do to deserve this child?

2011-09-08T17:31:00.000-05:00

The last time I blogged I was in so much pain. . I did not know another way to lay down my cross than to blog, pray, cry, wake up, and continue on with my day.

It was so painful, I hadn't even been able to return to my own blog for fear I would see the post. But I've been inspired by the most beautiful essay I've ever read. This essay is the result of an assignment my teenage daughter was working on. She used my work computer to type it, so I found it as I was shutting down for the day, saved in a folder that I never use.

I read it and cried because I was so touched. I thought I would share it to give hope to other parents raising children, who aren't sure whether their child knows how hard they're working to do right by them. . Here goes:

The Strength of My Mother
Never have I claimed to be a perfect daughter, because God certainly didn’t make me that way, but I haven’t always strived to be either. I wake up every day asking “How has my mother had so much patience with raising me as a single mother over these years?” My mother is defined by me as my heart. I would not be where I am today if it weren’t for her. Unfortunately, I know I haven’t been easy to raise. I’ve watched her cry, scream, and hurt because of me, and I live with the fact that I can never take any of that back.
My mother’s name is Anasthia Johnson. She became a single mother at the age of barely eighteen. She moved to Arkansas from where she was originally from, Texas, fear of my father finding out a bad decision she’d made while he was in prison when I was only one. With intensions on starting a better life for me, she’d planned on going to the Air Force, but soon changed her mind once she realized how long she would be away from me for basic training. She worked at McDonalds, Sam’s, and other hourly jobs years before enrolling into college and earning two degrees. My mother did her best to spoil me throughout my life, before and after she earned her degrees and career.

Johnson 2
My mother has obviously always been hard-working and dedicated. She has the same worth ethic when it comes to raising her children. Before I entered into this world, she promised me she would never give up on me, and still she hasn’t. I’ve literally given her hell, and she still sticks by my side, and supports me-flaws and all. My mother has always seen what I can become. She’s always loved me for me, even when I didn’t love myself. She’s pushed me to be the greatest I can be in every aspect. I haven’t always understood the punishments she’s bestowed upon me, but they always have a positive outcome because she understands me and knows what’s best.
I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, just in the past three years, I don’t blame my mother is she disowned me today, but I know that she loves me enough to never leave me. She’s has taken and hidden so much pain from me, and I have caused so much pain to her, it makes me ashamed. I hate to her cry, but I’ve been the cause of her crying repeatedly. The first time I hurt her, I was caught with a boy in the house. I took me over a year to understand why she was “tripping” so much over it, but I came to understand that I had brought a stranger, to her comfort area, the place where she pays bills, and controls every aspect of living. It took months, years for her to forgive me, but still she did.
My mother is the most passionate woman I know. She loved me so deeply, when she tells me, my heart melts, because I know she means it and shows it every day. I know one of us will have to let each other go when God calls us home, so I hope it’ll be me letting her go because I would hate for her to be on this earth without her seed. No more will she shed a tear from my ignorance. “Mother, you’re everything love can give to a child.”- Erica Johnson

The Story With No Ending (Yet)

2011-07-06T04:23:00.000-05:00

I don't know why my spirit chose tonight as the night that I would have to record this story, but it did. I went to bed at 10 pm, but could not get rest. I've tossed and turned, and tried to get some rest, but I can't. Here it is 3:30 am, and I'm giving in to the direction of the spirit. For those that may be hurt by this story, my apologies. Here goes.

There once was a little girl named.. hmm. . Anna that lived in a home with a mother (Eliza), step-father (James), and 5 siblings that she loved. Life was not perfect, a life of poverty never is, but there was a lot of love, and the girl lived a happy life.. for a while. .

Then, one day, when Anna was very young - maybe 7 or 8, life got really "scary." It started, when she watched a scary vampire movie with her parents and siblings, fell asleep and had terrible dreams. Anna dreamed of people trying to hurt her. The dreams were so bad, she eventually got out of bed and went into her parents room to find comfort. She did. Eliza was sleepy, but James woke up to care for the girl and made her feel safe. By the end of the night, James had really hurt Anna, but he blamed it all on the monsters. He promised that if the girl loved him, he would keep the monsters on TV away.

The vampire movie that scared Anna became made for TV Series (Go figure!). And Anna's family loved it so much they watched it every week. So, Anna stopped trying to enjoy the movies with her family. That particular movie brought Anna a wealth of pain that as a child she could not even understand. So, when it came on, Anna would go play with her toys instead. But she could still hear the terrible screams from the TV, and when the movie was over, James would tuck Anna into bed, describe the goriest of scenes and leave her with even more scary and painful thoughts to deal with when she finally went to sleep. The nightmares just wouldn't go away.

Things went on this way for a really long time. But one day, for some reason Eliza and James grew apart. Then, they lived apart. Should've been great for Anna, right? Well, no, because Anna was now stuck with her nightmares even more then the movie provided, and the only person she knew how to protect her was James (or at least that's what he said). Anna just could not work up the courage to tell anyone about the monsters that haunted her in her sleep, so she had to learn how to "buck up."

Anna bucked up, but the monsters never ever went away. Ever. Anna grew into a young woman, and decided that if the monsters would not go away, she would go away from the monsters. So, she caught the first train out of her hometown, to start anew: her and her little bundle of joy Erin.

Life got better for Anna. Her visions of the monsters got manageable. Anna met a handsome young man named Elton that was so brave, and so kind, he made the monsters almost disappear. And Elton was smart. He got Anna to trust him enough to tell him about the scariest of monsters.

It felt so good to tell someone. And Anna felt immediately better because Elton promised that he would never let the monsters hurt Anna again. Life got better for awhile. .

Then, Elton forgot his promise. Elton forgot he was one of the good guys. At some point, Elton stopped caring that he was Anna's hero, and starting being a pretty monstrous fellow himself.

But Anna couldn't run becuase she had shared this secret with Elton that she thought she'd never share, and did not want to share again. So, Anna "bucked up" again. She focused on protecting her baby Erin from monsters. She focused on protecting the new babies she had with Elton from monsters. She honed in on the idea that she could be her own hero.

And one day, somehow it happened. Anna woke up and realized that she would buck up on her own. She got rid of Elton. And I'm pretty sure she decided that the easiest way of keeping the monsters away, was to keep everyone away. And she was good at it. She got tired one time, and let a really sweet person into her life, but he wasn't committed to helping her keep the monsters out, so Anna bucked up again.

One day something downright amazing happened. Anna's sister called and told her that James had died. The source of all the monsters was gone. Anna could be happy again. But she wasn't. She was sad, really sad; maybe even moreso than she had ever been. She did not understand why because this was the type of windfall Anna had been hoping for. But She felt like she was stuck with this memory of monsters that would never go away.

Then, one night Anna woke up to this dream about monsters that left her in tears because it was not the monsters from the vampire movie: She recounted the real-life monsters that had preyed upon her. And then, Anna realized that while she was bucking up to get some relief from the monsters, she had become one herself.

She was not the James variety of monster, oh no. She was worse. Because she was a monster that focused on slaying those that are good. Anna shook the monsters, but never the hurt. She hurt so much from her memories of the monsters and the few people who broke their vows to protect her that she hurt people who wanted to help. . over and over. . over and over. . Still today, Anna does now know how to stop. .

I did say this story had no ending, right?

On My Own Island

2011-04-24T12:44:00.000-05:00

I heard myself admit to something that I thought I had forever trapped in my subconscious, and it scared me.

Fred and I were sitting in my driveway on Saturday evening, just enjoying the weather and waiting for the sun go down. There was not a lot of talking going on, and I'm not sure how we even got on this subject. But I heard myself say, "I'm at a place where I've isolated myself from my family and friends because I've lost SO much that I want to do what I can to avoid that level of loss again. And I don't want to let anyone else in my inner circle because I'm afraid that I'm going to lose them too. I hold my kids close, but that's it."

Wow! That scared the crap of me.

I occasionally feel alone. Let me be honest, a lot more than occasionally. I don't have a friend I can just call up and ask to come over for dinner. If I want to have a get-together, I really have to think about who I'm willing to invite over to my home. There's no friend list on my mind.

I have no friends in Arkansas. I have a bunch of associates.

When people ask me if I have family here, I usually say no. Sad. Sad.

I have a sister, nieces, nephew, uncles, cousins, great-nieces; they all live within about 20 miles of my home. But I make no attempt at visiting.

I know what the problem is: I've built an island just for myself and my children. I just don't know how to create a bridge.

Why Make Momma Proud?

2011-04-04T12:44:00.001-05:00

I'm in a weird place. Questioning a lot of things that I've done. . a lot of things I've learned. . I can't seem to find comfort.

It occurred to me, out of the blue, that just lately, I've completely changed the way I parent to shift the focus from what I desire of my children to what they desire of themselves. At first, I began to morph into this parenting style as I tried to motivate my teenager to excel by reminding her that some of her choices in life were making me really unhappy. Wasn't working.. at all.

I mean, honestly, teenagers don't give a damn about what makes their parents happy. They are, and should be, totally self-involved and self-centered. If it does not totally serve their purpose, scheme, or grand idea of life and their participation in it, they ain't going for it.

So, I've stopped the disapproving glares, remarks, and outward frustration when my daughter heads down the wrong path. Instead, I delve into where the behavior she's exhibiting will get her.

"So, you skipped school. And now your grades are suffering. Hmmmmm, you know you can't get enough financial aid to attend college with bad grades, right? Since I've already told you I'm not footing the entire bill. What are you going to do?"

If she continues to skip school, at 17, I think she'll become hook to the cause and effect relationship when she finds herself sitting around the house with me when the other kids have gone off to college.

But my Teenager Issues did not inspire my change in parenting style. It only gave me a vehicle for displaying the change I'd already been going through for some time.

Before I figured out how to apply this thinking with Erica, I realized that for a long time the only reason I was making decisions in my life was becuase I knew it would make my parents happy. I'm at a place where I find it hard to motivate myself anymore to do or even strive to do those things anymore: get married, stay in touch with other family members, attend church. These are the majors.

Lizzie and Joe are GONE! GONE! GONE! They are in heaven with Christ. I just cannot convince myself that they still care about these things.

So, I am living a life that I know would not be pleasing to them, but it suits me just fine because I have noone to answer to but God. And if I'm not sinning, I think he's OK with what I'm doing, too. . I guess.

He said he still loves me

2011-03-01T20:05:00.002-06:00

Now, what am I sposed to do with that?

I've yearned to hear him say those words for SO long! Every day, I smile at the photos of him I have saved on my computer. I can't remember a day that's passed that I haven't called him, sent him a text, or at least started a text to him that I caught myself before sending.

I'm still SO in love with this man. I can't even put it into words.

But he let go.

People don't understand me. They don't understand the things I cherish to the core: family, wisdom, honesty, LOYALTY. It is a quality that can never be over-stated. I am loyal to a fault, and I NEED that.

I did him wrong. . or did I? Well, I broke up with him. But those are just words. Angry words tossed around to get a reaction.

I NEVER let go. Even in my anger, I still made it clear that I was still in it. I NEEDED him.

It's not that I don't spend every night laying in bed thinking of how much I enjoy the way he touches me, kisses me, talks to me.. Uuuugh, I LOVE this man!But life is weird. It's so weird. I'm SO deep in love with THIS man while there's another man that is SO deep in love with me. And he is loyal.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh, but I LOVE this man!

God, it's your call. I need you to overrule my heart and help me to submit to what it truly your will. Right now all I know is what the heart desires.

And that, with all my being, I LOVE this man!

God's Love for Me, My Love for God

2011-01-20T18:55:00.003-06:00

Here's how I see it. I have this personal relationship with God that started way before I was born; or my mother was born; or my great-great-great grandmother was born. It started when I was only a figment of God's boundless imagination.

He loved me first. He loved me so much that when he looked down generation after generation, and saw that one day I would walk this Earth alone, and be disheartend by the fact that I was not quite sure if there was a place for me, he decided that he would do something over-the-top, completely amazing, and not even deserved. He let his ONLY begotten son die on the cross for me, so that one day, when my days on this earth were over, I would not perish. Instead, I'd be able to return to glory. . in HIS house. . and enjoy eternity with the people I love: My Momma Lizzie, My Dad Joe, My Uncle Austin, My crazy cousin Murray, and all those people that he placed in my life from day one that I somehow fell in love with - who somehow make it over there before me.

So, why would I worry about what I owe to the US on taxes? Why would I lose sleep over the cost of replacing the roof in this old house? Why would I sob about how hard it is to be a single parent of 3 kids? Why?

He's already given me the ultimate gift? I do not doubt for a second that all of these other desires of my heart will be taken care of.

And even if he does not take care of all this little stuff, I still benefit from the overflow of love God shows me because one day I won't have to worry about all the worries of life. I will not have to cry or feel alone. One day I will wake up on the other side in glory, and spend eternity showing God the love he has shown me.

But until then, I have an amazing opportunity. I can share all of this love, and joy, and contentment God has given me with those around me. I'll start with you.

GOD loves you. . and SO DO I.

Merry Christmas to my Angel

2010-12-25T00:14:00.004-06:00

I have so much to be grateful for this Christmas. Wow! God has really opened the doors of heaven and showered SO many blessings on me, I just cannot tell it all. I know that. I know I'm blessed. I know that God has been good to me and my family. I'm grateful... so, so grateful.

But I still miss my Angel.

I have the best Christmas memories. I can remember waking up on Christmas morning, and going to my Momma's room to get my presents. I can remember how bright everything was. The lights were the kind that had movement. They were as bright as neon.

Now, my tree lights are LED to conserve energy and I keep them static because the flashing is distracting to me. It's not the same.

Momma would cook a huge Christmas dinner. . Nothing fancy. . Just stuff I loved. . Everything I loved.

I'm not cooking. I baked a couple of cakes, but we wont' eat here. There are too many loved ones we have to see and spend time with to eat at home. It's not the same.

On Christmas Day, I could be at home and plan to see all my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends. Everyone dropped by that old house on the corner of 10th street to laugh, eat, talk, and just share the day.

I now live in a suburb; just me and the kids. Everyone is so spread out now that we don't even try to visit each other for Christmas. It feels like we're all in a weird game of tag, and noone wants to leave the base where they are safe. The new Christmas tradition is isolation.

God is good. God is good. His blessings overflow in my life. I won't complain. I'm blessed. But I miss my Momma, who was and is still my angel. I miss my Angel and those angelic days when life was simple and filled with family.

Merry Christmas!

My Review of Pittsburgh Steelers Mens Custom Crew Neck Fleece Sweatshirt

2010-12-11T08:15:00.002-06:00

Originally submitted at NFL

Sit back, relax and enjoy the big game wearing this comfortable men's custom crew-neck fleece sweatshirt. Create your very own personalized design; add embroidered twill appliqués of your favorite NFL® team, player name and number to the chest, back and shoulders of this pullover.

I'll NEVER buy from nflshop.com again

By AJ loves to shop online from Sherwood, AR on 12/11/2010

Sizing: Feels too small

Cons: Not Authentic Looking, Low Quality Material

Best Uses: Watching The Game on TV

Describe Yourself: Stylish

nflshop.com is the WORST website I've EVER purchased products from. Once I ordered the custom print top, they just LOST any record of me making the order. Yet, they still sent me a link to review it. Weird.

Anyway, I'm not pleased with the purchase. The team logo is too small. And the lettering is black, which does not fit the colors of the top at all. I won't returnd it b/c nflshop.com sucks in that it cannot find any record of my order anyway. Do yourself a favor. Buy elsewhere!

(legalese)

Good Mommy Gone Mad

2010-12-02T08:59:00.009-06:00

This morning was a "different" one.

The boys walk a half-block to the bus stop; yet I sit there in my car until I see the bus on the horizon before I go to work. This morning, my 7 year old hopped in the car as I pulled out of the garage and wanted a ride to the bus stop. That was "diferent."

When I saw the bus on the horizon (about 2 blocks away), I left for work. Traffic was awful, so it took me about 42 mins to actually get to work this morning.

As soon as I got to the parking lot I realized that I had 6 missed calls from home. I kind of knew what it was as soon as I saw the calls, but still felt anxiety as I quickly called back the number.

My 7 year old answered. He had missed the bus because right after I drove off, he realized he had to pee. Well CRAP! I was SO mad! I gave him a good, stern lecture about how irresponsible it was for him to miss the bus. I mean the bus ride is about 5 minutes long! Hold your pee, dude!

I sped towards home. . seriously. . I was going about 90 miles an hour from the moment I hung up my phone. And as I drove, I got calls from the school principal, secretary, my 9 year old son. . all worried half to death about this kid who could not hold his pee. By the time I got home, I was more worried than mad. Maybe I under-estimated this threat. Is my baby OK? I don't know what goes on in this neighborhood of retired folks during the day while I'm at work. OMG!!!!

As my car pulled into the driveway, J walked out. He was fine. He had locked the door, and had this little smirk on his face.

I grabbed him and shook him a little out of frustration. But I had to hug this kid. My worry melted away. I wasn't mad anymore. I had another reason for my praise. God is good.

Weeping may endure for a night..

2010-11-10T10:05:00.004-06:00

. . but joy cometh in the morning." And it is morning, so I know I'm going to be OK.

Me and Baby Beast parted ways last night. I asked him to answer the only question that's important to me in a relationship right now.

In a year, will it be you and me? He said he didn't know, and that's just not good enough.

I'm 35 years old. I have a beautiful family, a great job, and I look DAMN good. Time's up for the audition. I stuck with him for two years, and gave my very best to the man that I love. For him to say that he does not know if he could see himself with me, that was just too much.

I've weeped, but I have not cried. I'm a little numb. When I give myself a couple of seconds to reflect, I feel the tears creeping into my eyes. So, today is going to be one of my busy days because I don't have time for tears. When I have time, I'll take a few moments to get it out my system and then move on.

Well, I tried.

Hiatus Over - Back to Running

2010-10-26T15:31:00.003-05:00

So, thanks to a Blackbaud Conference in DC, I've had a nice, long 10 day hiatus from running. No. The conference was not 10 days long. No. I was not in DC for 10 days. Basically, I just took a break. Shit, it's hard running 7 miles a day! So, I didn't.

Anyway, the hiatus is over, and I'm back to running during the week.

Well, no negative feedback or disappointed looks are needed. My run paid me back with dividends for the long break. As I went up the Main Street Bridge the first time, by legs and stomach began to burn. OMG! I felt SO out-of-shape. It was SO hard to just push through the whole thing that I actually returned to the office pretty sore and decided that I'd (permanently) reduce the 7 mile run to 6.6. I mean, who runs 7 miles a day anyway? Oh, and I've also committed to not taking more than a 3 day break again (if I can help it).

So, I'll probably be running in warm ups soon, but you will see me out there running. Here's the route. Maybe you'll join me.

View Larger Map

I'm a Survivor! (of Scouts Camp)

2010-10-04T12:36:00.005-05:00

I've determined that you have to willfully survive a difficult experience to truly come out on the other side of it and be able to reflect on how much you gained from going through it. And that's EXACTLY how I feel about my weekend trip to Scouts Camp in Damascus, Arkansas.

This past weekend is one of the few that my sons (the J's) have spent with me. [The weekends are usually reserved for Dad Time since we maintain separate households.] So, it took a significant amount of prayer to decide that I wanted to spend that time with them in the woods, surrounded by a lot of strangers. I can't catch up on Giggles and Hugs from The J's in the woods!

Nevertheless, me and my boys drove an hour to Camp Rockefeller in Damascus, Arkansas, for a new experience - camping outdoors on Mom and Me Scouts Weekend. The camp was HUGE, beautiful, and covered with spiders. The crew that ran it for the weekend, was a group of really committed and patient volunteers who guided, trained, protected, entertained, and fed us from Saturday Morning (8:30 am) to Sunday Afternoon. Saturday, we spent the day hiking, shooting bb's, singing, COMPLAINING (especially me), and for the most part, getting to know the wilderness.

Saturday night, it was SOOOOOOOO cold. I just cannot even put it into words.

Before I left, I knew that it was going to get down to the low 40's. But I could not imagine until I was in the moment, just now cold 40ish degrees is when you're separated from the weather by a thin sheet of mesh. OMG.

I pitched the tent near the bathrooms, so I was up all night because I was too cold to sleep, the sharp rocks below my sleeping bag were too jagged to sleep on, I heard a noise, or because someone shined their flashlight into our tent as they stumbled through the cold to the bathroom. I spent most of the night sitting up in the tent with the flashlight on, staring at my two baby boys that were under the warm blankets intertwined to stay warm. They looked so beautiful, so calm, so angelic, I just did not have the heart to wake them up. But I wanted to shake them awake, force them to hike the two miles back to the warm car, and take my butt on home. That's the reason I turned on the flashlight at 1:45am. I was DONE.

But then I heard a message from up high that spoke directly to my spirit. I KNEW that I needed to let the boys experience what we were going through. I knew I needed the reminder for myself. There was a lesson to be learned.

"It's not always easy. Sometimes the winds will blow, the tent will shake, and the rocks will scrape. You will go from being uncomfortable to downright in pain. It will be dark and you will feel like you are all alone. But it will pass. Eventually, the sun will rise, and God will give you relief."

And that's what happened. I opened the tent to watch the sun came up. It was exactly what God had promised. It brought relief.

I shed a few tears as the sun came up because I knew that there are people who live under those conditions everyday. Their situation is worse. They are hungry, poor, hopeless, sick, and did not choose the situation they found themselves in.

This morning, I came into work with a renewed spirt. I work for Heifer International. And I truly believe that the work we do makes a difference for individuals, families, and communities.

I survived. And am even more devoted to help others that are trying to survive a far more real experience than my one night Scouts Camping Trip.

God Pre-Paid for my Stove

2010-09-25T06:32:00.004-05:00

In January of 2009, I dis-continued employment with Alltel and began working at my ideal employer, Heifer. Before I left, I cashed out my IRA that I held at Alltel to cover expenses that were caused by a really bad break-up with my ex.

But since I left Alltel, every quarter, I would get a letter from the company that manages Alltel's retirement benefits about changes to the plan. After while this got annoying because I knew I had no money there, so I just started trashing the notices as they came in. Well, Tuesday I was going through my "chunk it in the trash" stack and decided to read the notice. It said that if I did not close the account, the company that manages Allte's retirement account would charge me about $9/mo.

Now, I'm like, "HUH!" So, I make a couple of phone calls and go online to try to shut down my empty account so that I did not have to pay the maintenance fee. And, there it was. Another thousand.

I thanked God for the un-expected blessing one-two-three-maybe four times as I cashed it out. No, I THANKED God. I put the computer down, fell to my knees, cried and gave God the true thanks he deserves. When I was done with cashing out online, my mind started calculating all the extra stuff I could get: new living room furniture, Victoria Secret panty sets (my FAVORITE), boots for fall, stuff, stuff, stuff. I really did not even think about the stove because I've been browsing online and saw some really cool stoves for about $600.

Of course, I went to 4 stores to try to get one of those really cool stoves for the $600 I saved, and learned how truly timely God's blessing was.

Yeah, there are a lot of cool stoves for $600, but they can't fit in my kitchen. The stove has to be a 27 inch wide, drop-in electric stove (by GE). And of course, the stove is a custom order that has to be shipped from the factory. The stove is $1,150. The shipping and taxes are about $150. The INSTALLATION is $350.

When I added it all up, the total cost is $1,650, which is exactly the amount of money I now have between my stove savings $600 and the amount that I got from my Alltel IRA distribution.

I go around saying "God is awesome." "God always comes through for me." "I count on God." But because I don't wear long dresses, go to church every single Sunday, or keep a Bible on my dashboard, I think people occasionally discount my expressions. But I'm telling you that God loves me as I am. He is not in some distant place looking down with disapproval on all of my mistakes, bad choices, and struggles. He's right here listening to, comforting, and supporting me. And I know he was there a week ago in my kitchen as I tried to clean the stove and broke it. I started crying, and said really softly, "God, help me." He had to have been really close to hear because he started his plan of helping me probably even before that moment, and made it so that I had what I needed on the day when I needed it. . just like he always does.

THANK YOU GOD for loving lil' ole sinful me!

Running the Good Race

2010-09-23T08:46:00.005-05:00

Last year, I committed to running the Little Rock Marathon 1/2, got all my friends signed up and excited, and then I bailed at the last minute. I just did not prioritize training for the race and could not pull it off.

Well, this year, I'm ON IT!. To avoid the last minute bail-out option, I want ahead and made a couple of financial investments (really the best incentive for me to stick with it): I purchased a new pair of running shoes and registered (and paid) for the race early.

I'm so committed to running the Little Rock Marathon 1/2 on March 6, 2011 (13.1 miles), I've already started training. Since September 2nd I've been running at least 4 times a week during my lunch breaks covering the River Market, Riverwalk on the North Little Rock and Little Rock sides, Broadway Bridge, Main Street Bridge, and occasionally on Saturday mornings I run half of Sherwood. I feel SO good clocking about 30 miles a week!

The biggest piece of criticism my ex had for me was that I tended to make selfish decisions. Well, on this one, he's absolutely right! I'm commnitted to using my free time to prepare for an event that serves only me. And I don't feel bad about it. Actually, I'm really excited.

So, along with my "Life Lessons Learned" topics, I'll also be updating my blog with a lot of training-related stuff because that's where my mind is right now. I'm going to do this because running is something I love to do. Of course, I'm also hoping that I'll inspire someone who has had a selfish desire that they have felt too guilty about to want to pursue. Shit, just get out there and do it. Life is too short to let people of the world who don't give a dang about you have control over what you do.

Let's hear a yell for the Little Rock Marathon!!!!!

She Taught Me to Breathe

2010-08-30T21:37:00.008-05:00

As a child, I suffered with asthma. The strangest things would set off an attack: overheating, anxiety, exhaustion, among other things. Since I was also a teeny tiny thing, all of the Aunts in my family basically just referred to me as sickly, so I tended to stick close to Momma because she was the only one who knew how to help me through my attacks.

And if I have not mentioned it before, we were really poor, so Momma very rarely had an inhaler to offer, so she tended to try to prevent attacks by forcing me to avoid the causes. All the other kids would be running, jumping, playing, fighting, and I'd be sitting right at my Momma's feet; listening to her and the neighbor ladies gossip. But I was hard-heated, and a natural-born tom boy, so there were plenty of times when I'd slip away right after I heard the signal, "Oooooooooooooh, chile, you ain't gonna believe this." That meant something juicy was about to come out, and Momma didn't want me to be in ear shot anyway.

As soon as the speaker took that first deep breath, I would be gone.. . running, jumping, fighting, falling, and the most predictable. . crying. And plenty of times, I can remember that right in the middle of my spurt of running wild, I'd have an asthma attack. It would come on all of a sudden.. not really. I would start wheezing and coughing maybe a full 30 min's to an hour . I could feel my chest tighten up.. but when you're a kid, you kinda have to lose a limb to slow down.

I don't know how she knew it, but right at the moment when I'd find myself falling into a bush gasping for air, there would come Momma. She'd grab me up like a rag doll, and hold me in her arms. She'd look down at me with those calm eyes, and very softly, she'd whisper, "Breathe, Tesha." Then, she would inhale and exhale so deeply my body would rise and fall with the ebb and flow of her chest's movement.

Yeah, it's that easy, right? Well, no.

I'd start crying because I knew that I was taking in my last breath. . my chest would be hurting.. and my face would be tightening up. . I could hear her praying. . I didn't want to scare her.. I just wanted this whole predicament to be over, so I'd always try.. but nothing would come out.

She'd push down on my chest, which hurt like hell - I wonder if she knew that - and much louder, she'd say, "Deeply, deeply breathe. You don't have to be scared."

Well, I was, but this is the woman who NEVER let me down, never gave up, and always pulled me through so I knew that if she was saying that it was as easy as breathing there was something to this thing..

I don't know how it would happen. Somewhere in between her grabbing the rosary out of her bosom, saying a Hail Mary, pounding my chest, steadying her breathing.. somehow my breath would come back.. My chest would still hurt.. and my breathing would not steady for hours. . and the wheezing would last all night long.. but air would seep into my chest at least to the point to where I did not die.

I truly think that in those moments of panic, when I'd be laying there watching my short life flash before my eyes while watching Momma regulate her own breath, she was literally teaching me how to breathe. . which in those moments, was a Herculean task. She taught me over and over again, that even when it hurt, I had to keep on breathing. Even when I thought the last breath was indeed the last breath, I had to keep on breathing. When noone cared that I was over there dying in the bush but her, I had to keep on breathing. When I knew that even if I started breathing, at some point, I'd find myself helpless again, I still had to breathe.

My last asthma attack occurred the day my Momma died, November 6, 2007. I received a phone call with the news, and literally stopped breathing. I don't know if it was an attack, or while I was trying to cope with the news, I just lost the will that she worked so hard to inspire. But as I laid there on the floor, gasping for air - almost wanting it not to return - I felt the ebb and flow of her chest against me. I heard her demanding me to breathe.

And here I am. The daughter of Elizabeth Francois Scott, still breathing.

First Day of School

2010-08-19T08:42:00.006-05:00

Today is the first day of school for students in Pulaski County Special School District in Arkansas.

My daughter's bus came at 6:45 am. 6:45!! But you better believe, she hit the bus stop like she was hitting the run way -- in full Diva Mode. Wow! Still, she took a solid minute out of her routine to pop into my room and give me a kiss on the cheek. I love that (no so) little girl!

Now, the boys. . Well, this morning was a wake up call for me. The I'm Awake kiss I usually get - Nope! I rushed them through the getting ready routine, and walked them to the bus stop (twice). You think they even considered puckering them lips for a kiss for the Momma that is having a hell of a time transitioning. NO!

I watched them get on the bus. Before they got on, I made a plan, and BOTH of them shot me the DON'T EMBARRASS ME look. Embarrass them? I am NOT my mother! I don't embarrass. . I just want a little pre-first day of school affection.

I wanted to believe that they had just forgotten to give me a kiss, so I met them at the elementary school to give them another chance. I KNOW I heard my 9 year old say, "I am SO embarrassed." before he pretended not to see me and headed to class. My 7 year old -- the baby that is FULL of affection - said, "Mommy, I got it." and went on. .

No love. No snuggles. No nothing.

I know my kids are getting bigger, older, more mature. Well, Stevie Wonder can see that! But I'm just not quite ready for the transition to "My Mom embarrasses me" just yet. I LOVE them! I LOVE THEM! They are my whole world!

Kisses, I don't need. But hugs I do, so I plan to meet ALL of them at home - since I cleverly took the day off - with open arms when their first day of school is over. In the meantime, I'll just lick my wounds and recover.

Where I am: intersted in foster parenting and adoption

2010-08-10T21:23:00.003-05:00

Who misses broken sleep, random crying spells, dirty diapers, teething, diaper rashes, colic? Well, me!

It's weird that I raised my children while I was attending high school, finishing college, and entering the work force; all while I was in either one dysfunctional relationship or another. Now, I'm actually in a stable place in my career, in a really healthy relationship, and well, there are no more babies. And I feel like I'm at a place where I'm ready for a baby.

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Well, Thursday I'm really excited about this Foster Parenting Meeting that I'm attending. It's an informational meeting that will get me acquainted about the program. I know NOTHING, and I feel pretty passionate that once I get married, I want to adopt. So, I'm going to get all the information I can about the requirements, expectations, difficulties, everything.

I want to give a child a better life. I've struggled, and learned, and I actually have no regrets. I want to expose a child (or hey, maybe to) to more opportunity than they would otherwise have; and at the same time add even more people to love to my family.

That's where I am right now. God is good.

Who are these people?

2010-08-04T18:21:00.008-05:00

I had a HORRIBLE work day today; not because our full day of meetings did not following the agenda I created or because Shop launched later in the day than I had anticipated. Actually, what upset me today was pretty significant, and it really had nothing to do with work. It had more to do with my co-workers and the fact that I learned that no matter how far I go in my career, in a lot of arenas I'm still an outsider looking in.

Well, here goes the most painful part.

We took our out-of-town vendors to lunch today. It seemed like a good idea even though the day was not going quite right. . at all..

I volunteered to drive to Whole Hog - at least one of my attempts to go above and beyond with looking like a Team Player.

We were well into lunch when A mentioned that she saw a HI-larious video. She tried to describe what it was about, which didn't sound funny, but we wanted to laugh with her, so a few people found the clip on their iPhones. Some of them smiled some of them giggled, so I thought I'd give it a looksey too. Of course, it turned out that that video was one of the worst I had ever seen.

It was an interview of this black man that lived in the projects who was describing the attempted rape of his sister and how he saved her. He was poor, and as it tends to turn out, and could not speak the standard English language to save his life. The sadness behind the story was lost on my lunch dates. All they could hear was Ebonics and all they could see was this poor black family. I was horrified. I made a face, and looked out the window.

Well, we return to work, and I'll be honest I carried some hurt with me from that experience because I just could not understand how I worked with this group of people each day to end hunger and poverty around the word, provide opportunities to poverty-stricken families, and to educate, and they found this particular video about a woman that lived in poverty and was almost raped even a little bit funny. If she lived in Nepal, or Slovakia, Poland, or even Uganda or Cameroon they would've seen her as a human being. I guess it's hard though when she's just Black. But still, I wondered to myself, Who are these people?

I went through my day anxious to the end, so I could go home and wash my day away, but it just wouldn't go nicely.

As I left for the day, I popped in to wish my co-workers and vendors a good evening, and what-do-ya-know? They're getting one last ha-ha out of the video. This time to music!

I'm tactful. I'm professional. I'm open-minded. I decide to not say a thing.

But what made my co-worker, A, text message me after the fact and explain that she apologized for offending me, but she wanted me to know it was not because she's racist? Well, in her defense, I've actually never met a true racist who thought they were racist either.

This is a look into the life of a Black woman who grew up poor, came up a little but is committed to never forgetting the legacy she was born into.

My Momma's Obituary: There are not enough words

2010-07-11T07:54:00.002-05:00

Elizabeth Scott(Francois)

PORT ARTHUR- Mrs. Elizabeth Scott (Francois) of Port Arthur died Tuesday, Nov. 6, 2007. She was born in St. Martinville, Louisiana and was a resident of Port Arthur, TX for 43 years. She was a graduate of Lincoln High School in 1961. She spent her life taking care of the elderly as a Home Health Provider. Her remaining life was devoted to Jesus Christ, constantly testifying to others of the wonderful things GOD does and to turn their life over to Christ.

She leaves to cherish: her four daughters, Jedda (Anthony) Brantley of Georgia, Camalita (Dwight) Snowden of Port Arthur, TX, Kitina Meeks and Anasthia Johnson, both of Sherwood, Arkansas; two sons, Willie Gray III of Houston, TX and Alex Gray of Port Arthur, TX; six sisters; four brothers; close friends, Hattie Morgan and Jacqueline Ford of Port Arthur, TX; sixteen grandchildren and a host of loving nieces and nephews. Visitation in scheduled from 6pm-9pm on Friday Nov. 9th at Gabriel Funeral Home. Funeral services will be at 11am, Saturday Nov. 10th at Barnes Memorial Methodist Church, 749 West 17th St. in Port Arthur, TX. with early viewing before the services.

I miss you, Momma

Getting Back to Where I Belong

2010-07-06T08:16:00.005-05:00

For the first time in many, many years, I decided that instead of spending 4th of July weekend with someone else's family, I'd brave the trip to spend time with my side: the Francois family - my relatives on my mother's side. This was the first time since I was a teenager that I went to visit family when I was not grieving, so the entire experience felt new, but extremely familiar.

Me, my sister, and my teenage daughter divvy'd our time between Cade, Lafayette, and St. Martinville Louisiana.

Here's the quick and dirty about the entire trip.

During the 5.5 to 6 hour drive, I started to get nervous because I began to remember how cliquish our family had always been during the many summers and holidays we spent together in Louisiana (and Texas), and I was not sure if I'd be able to find a place where I belonged in the whole structure. I wondered if I even knew these peoople anymore. I mean, I had not seen or spoken to them in almost 20 years. Would I even recognize all of them?

But once we arrived. I just cannot explain to you the feeling of belonging that fell over me. It was as if I had returned home.

My mother is gone now, but I could see her eyes, her cheekbones, her mouth, her hips, her ass in every one of my Aunts. When they were all together at the same time, it was a little overwhelming because I felt like I was back in my mother's presense. I had so many memories of Momma come back to me in their presence. It felt so right.

I heard my mother's laugh when my Aunt Cynthia got tickled. I saw my mother's disapproving glare when my Aunt Stephanie heard us talking in church. I winced at my mother's sarcastic sneer when my Aunt Brenda was not impressed by something we did (or wore). I smelled (yes, smelled) my mother when I gave my favorite Aunt Sharon a long hug. While I spent time with my mother's sisters, I was in her presence. I don't mean virtually. I mean, she was there; everywhere.

But not only was she there, but the people I had grown up to love, respect, and cherish were all there too. There were cliques in the Francois family, but they were overshadowed by shared love; a lot of love, hugs, tears, kisses, and family sharing. This was truly the best holiday I've had in my entire adult life. Now, that I've found where I belong, I hope to re-create the time we had much more often.

Who can I run to?

2010-05-31T19:02:00.002-05:00

I pride myself on being the person that others can turn to when they've been backed into a corner. I'm Ms. Bailout. But after awhile that's a really exhausting position to play. Not because being there for someone else takes a lot out of me, but because it sets me up to look for that person that I can turn to in times of need.

Basically, it's me and Jesus. Me and Jesus. Everyone else is just hype.

I'm frustrated. SO frustrated. I just feel like I spend all my time thinking, "What can I do to make life better for the kids?," "How can I make things easier for Baby Beast?," "How can I encourage my nieces and nephews to go farther."

Well, today it's Baby Beast. How's he gonna just back out on me again. . as usual?

Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!

So, now I'm a Mother's Day Scrooge

2010-05-09T16:41:00.006-05:00

I've been in my room for most of the day with my cell phone off, my shades drawn, my door closed, laying across my bed going through cycles of crying and laughing, sleeping and awake. I'm just in here meditating on my memories of momma. Before you even guess it, I'm not depressed - according to the clinical definition. I really just want this fucking day to be over.

The nerve of people to continue to recognize Mother's Day after my mother has passed. It all seems unfair. . insulting. disgusting. I don't need a day to mourn my mother. I do that every day, every hour, every second. . always. At this point, I can't even appreciate what other people do for their mother's either. . It's never enough. Nothing will be enough. Your mother is the most obvious expression of the first gift God gave you: Life. And when she's gone, it's the most obvious representation that Life is coming to an end. . for everyone.. and righ now, I'm ready for it to be me.

Again, I'm not depressed. I've just lost the best friend I could ever have. So, people ask me why I don't try to make friends now? Well, why?

I look forward to the day when I have come to the end of this fight. I have helped everyone God sent me to help. . when I have been the example to those God meant for me to be the example to. . when I have praised him in every way God put me here to praise him in.. and then I close my eyes. . and wake up on the other side.

I look forward to walking through the Gates of Heaven, and seeing my TWO best friends, because my Dad will be there too.. I know they will open their wings, we'll embrace, and I'll hear what I've waited a lifetime to hear. "Well done. "

Until then, I'll continue to function.. on every day but today. Today I'm going to chill in my room, reflect on what I've lost, meditate on my memories of momma, and endure being the Scrooge that I've become.

I can do ALL things. . almost

2010-04-14T08:44:00.008-05:00

My Mom used Philippians 4:13, I can do ALL things through Chris who strengthens me, as a daily mantra to keep herself going.

Well, I'm growing, and learning, and drawing closer to Christ. I've even adopted my Momma's daily mantra (or at least most of it), "I can do ALL things. ."

But God has a sense of humor, especially when you've decided to only adopt pieces of his Word. That much I know. So, he's put me into what I now consider a hilariously funny loop.

Here's how it goes:

1. I have car trouble.
2. I pull over to inspect car, and resolve car trouble.
3. Good Samaritan comes by and resolves trouble.
4. I drive off with working car, but feeling that if only I had a "few more minutes" I could do all things MYSELF.

This scenario repeats iself about 4 times a year, at least, since I first bought a car 13 years ago. . It ALWAYS happens.

Soooooooooooooooooo, this morning, I was headed into work when one of my dashboard lights came on. [I get nervous when I see those things.] They're yellow and red. . and to me, they are on the same level as "Danger, Will Robinson!" from Lost in Space. Well, anyway, while driving on the access road, I reach into the dash and pull out my trusty Nissan manual and look up what the issue was. AIR PRESSURE.. Well, that's an easy one.

I actually drove for a bit to find the most out-of-the-way gas station, so I could "pull over, inspect, and resolve" in peace. I walked around the car about 3 times to inspect when I realized that I had NO CLUE which tire was low. . OK, how the hell do people do this stuff?. But I can still hear the mantra in my head. "I can do ALL things. . I can do ALL things. . "

A really nice guy wearing a wedding ring comes by in a Jeep and pulls next to me. He says, as they all say, "Ma'am, please let me do that for you."

"No thanks," I reply. "I've got it."

I walk around one more time, and determine that I'd just decide by eenie-meenie-minie-moe which tires needed air, and topped off two tires. Well, guy in the Jeep is still trying to help, "Ma'am, if you'd just let me take care of it, I will. I promise, I'm not trying to flirt with you. I just want to help."

I inspect my work. Feeling really good that for once I was able to take care of my own car. I nod to him, smile, hop in the Altima, and drive off. But Dude continues to follow me and beep until he gets my attention.

I'm a little freaked out, so I looped around the access road, so I could return to the same gas station where at least the attendant last saw me alive. I locked my doors and rolled down my window. "Can I help you?," I asked. Obviously annoyed.

He looked at my back passenger tire, and said, "When you added air, did it fix the problem?" I looked down at the dash, and admitted, "No. So?"

"Well, if you'd stay in the car and give me 15 seconds, I'll take care of it," he said. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Fine! I graciously nodded and rolled my window up.

After about 10 seconds, he tapped on the window and said, "This tire was probably about flat. I'm glad you let me help." I looked at the dash, and the light was off.

I unlocked the doors, introduced myself to this really kind man, and against his will, shook his oily hand.

It takes God to step into my life first thing in the morning and remind me that I can do all things, but only "though Christ who strengthens me."

OK, God. I got it. You (and Momma) are right.

Claiming a Happy Ending for My Own Fairy Tale

2010-04-01T12:04:00.005-05:00

My favorite part of the Cinderalla fairy tale was never Cinderalla -- with her spoiled self. It was not the handsome prince. He was a little too perfect for my taste. It was not the wicked step-mother.. Who treats their kids like that anyway? It was the BEAUTIFUL step sister, Anasthia.

The tale says that Anasthia was mean and made Cinderella do her work. But I happen to intimately know an Anasthia. Hey, I'll fess up. I AM an Anasthia.

I am beautiful. I am very caring and pleasant to be around. I am super hard-working. If anything I work in a Cinderalla fashion each day.

I'm claiming a happy ending to this story because one day I will meet my prince, fall in love, and ride into the sunset -- Or something like that -- and live happily ever after.

Why Try to Ignore the Elephant in the Room?

2010-03-30T09:01:00.003-05:00

We've been down this road before. . this very same road. . and arrived at this very same spot. . and what happened? I let go.

But now I'm back with a renewed promise to try to see this thing through against all odds, but what do I do about the elephant in the room?

No, I'm not calling your Mom an elephant, but damn, she won't forget. That was mean. . but surely you get where I'm going, right?

She hates me.. She HATES me.. I almost can't believe someone hates me. . I actually don't think I've ever been hated before, especially without knowing the reason why.

Because I did not speak to her when I walked into a room full of people that looked alike and did not know which one was her? Really? I guess I could have admitted from the very beginning that I just had not memorized her face, but damn. . How could I know that my omission would lead to this?

And then, after that first mistake, I made a lot more. I was nervous. I felt out of place trying to get to know a lot of strangers under a very high expectation. .I just don't think this situation is fair.

I don't want to let go. . I really, really don't. . because I love you. . I'll always love you.

But right now there's an elephant in the room that I know will eventually make her move and stomp all over me and our relationship. What is a girl to do?

Trying to Balance it All

2010-03-15T13:01:00.004-05:00

I know I'm blessed. I REFUSE to ever post anything that does not acknowledge in some way that God is the most dependable resource I have in my life for everything I need.

Having said that, I'm a human being. And I struggle every day with trying to take on things that are not my own. They belong to God. But I do it anyway.

It's just that today, I've had this feeling that I'm just trying to balance too much.

- I have 3 beautiful, healthy kids who need me to be at every basketball game, reward ceremony, and parent-teacher conference along with caring for their every day-to-day whims. But I got it.
- I have a boyfriend who needs me to support him, to wait for him, to make time for him, to KEEP UP with his crazy amount of energy, and to sometimes help him offset his disappointments in other areas. But I got it.
- I have an amazing job that does not lend itself to less than a 10 hour day. Hunger and poverty does not keep office hours, and often, neither do we. But I got it.
- I have a wonderful old house (30+ years) that needs me to care about my property value in order to one day deliver me a decent selling price when I'm ready to upgrade. But I got it.
- I have a crazy extended family that I love to pieces (sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, uncles, aunts, and everything else) that need me to listen, to advise, to care, to help, and to pray. But I got it.
- I have an overly hyper dog who needs me to pay attention to him, feed him, pet him, love him because the kids moved on to the next new thing about 5 years ago; I'm pretty much all this puppy has. But I got it.
- I've got people in my life that need me to pray, and walk right, and succeed, and try to be a good woman because they often don't have anyone else who will accept the calling. But I got it.
- I've got some bills.. And well you know with bills, you get bill collectors. And we all know what they want. Right? But I got that, too.

But here's how God works. I just typed up the list of the biggest burdens I'm carrying. I reviewed it in preparation for summarizing my feeling of being overwhelmed. But after I reviewed my list, I realized that nothing I've included are burdens at all. Instead, they are ALL these amazing blessings from God - even the bill collectors - each one placed in my life to constantly remember to thank God for the overflow he's allowed me to enjoy.

And again, that's what I gotta do. THANK YOU, GOD!

My Impatience Saves the WORLD time

2010-03-11T08:41:00.004-06:00

On Monday, I went into WalMart to make my daughter a new key for our front door - Yes, she lost her keys AFTER I incurred the expense of changing all the locks.

As soon as I walked into the Tire & Lube department, I was amazed to see 9 people already standing in line at the register. Of course, there was no cashier there.

I became #10. I stood there for like 3 minutes - which is like forever in my world to just stand in line. And was #10 for the whole 3 minutes. The line never moved. The cashier never came.

I really need this key. I REALLY need this key. So, I start doing my research on how to get the line moving. I asked Person #9, "Was the cashier here when you got in line?" No, she replied. "How long have you been waiting?", I continued. "Oh, about 15 minutes." I asked person #5, "Was the cashier here when you got in line?" No, she replied. "How long have you been waiting?", I continued. "Mmmm. about 20 minutes."I asked person #1, "Was the cashier here when you got in line." No, she replied. "How long have you been waiting?", I continued. "Well, about 40 minutes or so."

40 minutes? 40 minutes? People, are you serious?!! I realized that these fools are standing "in line" without even knowing that the Tire & Lube Department was even open. It was pretty late in the evening.

I looked out into the automotive bay area - through a huge glass window against one wall of the Tire & Lube department - and saw about 6 mechanics gathered around a car. I stepped out there and yelled, "Excuse me. Can we get some HELP in here?"

A really friendly mechanic lady stepped inside and said, "Oh. Sorry. We did not know anyone was in here waiting."

Oh Yeah. I was agitated by the people who were insane enough to wait their lives away to spend about $2-$3. [EVERYONE wanted a key.] But I was equally agitated with the employees there that I KNOW at some point over the course of 40 minutes would've/could've/should've looked up and saw these pitiful souls standing in a stupid line for keys.

You are welcome, World. I will NEVER stand in a stupid line without making sure someone knows I'm there, and that they are very conscious of the fact that I have better things to do than just stand in a stupid line to spend any amount of my hard-earned money. And my impatience will save YOU time.

Be careful what you pray for

2010-02-16T08:45:00.003-06:00

I've learned (again) that God will give you what you pray for. . even if it's not what your heart truly desires. In this particular case, I don't know if He came through because he wants to reassure me that he supplies my every need OR because he wanted to teach me to Be Careful What I Pray For.

I got out of a LONG, tumultuous, really awful relationship and was feeling a little lonely. I took a little time off to figure out what I needed out of a relationship. All the while devoutly praying for God to send me The One. Eventually, God came through and answered my prayers. I met a wonderful, sweet younger man who lived in a different state.

He was a student with a master plan to get his degree, get married, and live his dream. There were sparks. Shit, there was fire.. OMG. I don't even know how to describe how I felt except to say, "Right." Everything felt like it was right.

Well, things got hard. I got scared. And I let go. I just let go.

I just could not grapple with the idea that God would've sent me what I want and then make me wait for it. Huh? I mean, why should I wait? I was ready! Right?

Well, once I "let go" (sort of), I got back to devoutly praying. I'm a good prayer, ya know. "God, send me someone who does not want to wait?" Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Here's what God taught me a lesson.

God heard. He delivered, and did not even make me wait. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Could there be a catch here?

Soooooooo, what did I get? A man that did not want to wait. . for anything. Then, I realized it. He was not close to being ready. I was not ready either.

God had already sent me what I needed. And now, he was displeased with my lack of appreciation. I prayed. God delivered. He delivered not only what I prayed for, but much much more. More for now and more for the future.

OK, God. I've learned. I can wait. I can wait. I can wait. I will wait. Because while I'm waiting, I'm going to be making changes so that I can be right for the man you have sent me.

Amen.

I'm a HORRIBLE valentine

2010-02-15T08:09:00.007-06:00

This episode actually began more than a week before Valentine's Day, on February 5, 2010.

I received a new position at work - an amazing accomplishment - and within 30 minutes of the announcement I received a very beautiful bouquet of flowers. They were so fragrant and diverse. I have to say they were really beautiful. I was actually surprised that they were sent by The Flower Guy. Simple card: "Congratulations on your new job."

It's really weird. I met this guy one day and we chatted, but I just did not feel a connection. Apparently, he did, and has been sending me flowers pretty often since then. What's weird is that I'm not even a "flower person," although my daughter is, so when I receive them at work, I bring them home and brighten her day. I appreciate the fact that The Flower Guy continues to send flowers (for two years now) because it's one of those constant reminders that I'm not as petty as people think I am, and if they'd spend just a few moments getting to know me, they'd get it. . and save a few bucks on flowers. But oh well.

On the Friday before V-Day, one of my really good friends sent me a really beautiful Wine Country Gift Basket with a simple card, "Happy Valentine's Day." Now, this gift touched me because the guy really did not have to go all out for me. I have not even been a good friend, breaking our last 5 lunch or dinner dates due to other commitments. So, I was actually really touched that he sent me a gift because it sent the kind of message I can appreciate. "I don't expect anything" is what it said to me. So, we are having lunch today since I'm off, as I make an attempt to be a better friend. Hey. I may even pay.

Saturday before Valentine's Day, I received an even more beautiful bouquet of flowers in an amazing vase with a really thoughtful card from someone that I have just really been going through it with. I will not detail the tawdry details here. Just trust me. It's been rough.

These flowers were hand delivered with really thoughtful sentiments, but with one downside: an expectation.

Oooooooooooooouoooooh. I just cannot tell you how it burns me up when someone gives me a gift with the expectation of getting something in return! Not a gift. But my heart.

That's not how it works. If you suck on all days leading up to Valentine's Day, but go out and break the bank on Valentine's Day, that does not reduce your sucky-ness. It just does not work that way.

I was gracious. I showed gratitude. I upheld my graciousness even after he insisted that we go out even though I said I did not want to. I even maintained it later in the evening after I enjoyed a few hours of Monopoly with the kids - I kicked their butts! - and he mentioned that he was disappointed we did not go out.

I was raised to have manners. It's actually a big negative a lot of times because I find myself biting my tongue in a lot of situations when I'm completely repulsed. I hear myself saying, "It's OK" when I want to slap someone in the face.

I probably don't have to sum it up. Dude that gave the flowers on Saturday came up short. I feel bad, too, because I know he could not afford Tipton Hurst, so I'm struggling with my feelings today.

However, this is one of the cases when my drive to the kids school proved to be more helpful than usual, in that I heard a radio personality sum it up.

-- If you have been 100 up until V-Day, in a bad economy, there's really no reason for you to go all out.
-- If you got it, and you've been doing it big all year round, go head and splurge for V-Day. Maintain the consistency.
-- But if you are trying to use V-Day to make gains with someone whose not feeling you, save a few bucks. The results will only disappoint you (and her).

I had to type this out without thinking, so I may come up unappreciative. You gotta take it or leave it.

Some of my dumb Mistakes: Getting my child to act smart

2010-02-11T11:55:00.008-06:00

I've gotten more feedback on the post "Getting My Child to Act as Smart as She Is" than I've ever gotten on a blog post.

I was a little relieved because I was grappling with a topic I felt was unique to my situation without a lot of support from others, and it was a little frustrating. . I'm feeling better about the situation - which, of course, continues - but wanted to build on my explanation of the issue by highlighting the root cause that ushered this whole problem into my life.

All of this did not come into my life just because I was that kid who tried to avoid getting tagged as a nerd for being smart. The major portion has to do with HOW I tried to elude this very unpopular label.

I grew up in a small town - Port Arthur, Texas. It has two claims to fame - Jimmy Johnson, ex football coach of the Dallas Cowboys; and UGK, gangster rappers. There was no city-wide spelling bee, academic conferences, organized mentorship groups.

Well, I guess Port Arthur has a 3rd claim, but it's more of a local thing. I'm pretty sure it had more crack cocaine dealers per square mile than any other small town city in the US. And the dealers were probably the most popular (and wealthy) people I knew.

So, I figured that the best way to excel in the popularity contest was to either become a drug dealer. {Which wasn't going to happen since my older sister at the time was a police office. Now, is a seasoned detective, BTW} Or, to date a drug dealer.

Now, here's where it becomes interesting.

Who would risk their freedom to date the baby sister of an over-protective cop? Well, yippee! I found one.

In the tenth grade I dated a high school dropout that had been selling drugs since he was 12. It was SO exciting! I would attend my talented and gifted classes during the day - or often not - and then hang up with "the element" after school. I never used drugs. I never sold drugs. But boy did my popularity soar at my high school. I was the Queen Ill Nana. Hah!

Well, all good things come to an end (Good - a word based on the perspective of a confused 16-18 year old). Here's how it all played out: I got pregnant. My boyfriend got locked up. Reality set in. "You're screwed, Dude."

I had to go through it! I had to. Fortunately, I had a praying and patient Momma who refused to see me fail and a God who covered me with his grace and mercy that wipes clean even the most awful sins.

Here's the upside of what I went through and what I'm now going to with my teenage daughter who BTW is not as far gone as I was in trying to avoid being labeled as The Smart Kid - I'm a praying and (sometimes) patient Momma AND God does not change, even as man does.

From the time my daughter was born, I got it. . and I changed. I don't believe it will take such a life-changing (and permanent) change in my daughter's life. God gives each of us exactly what we need. And somehow, he knew that I needed someone who depended on me to do the right thing and to get my life together. He saved my life. My daughter saved my life.

I tell my testimony not because I'm proud of some of the dumb stuff I've done. I tell my testimony because I know that there are others out there that are going through and they need to know that, even though it's hard and feels overwhelming, this too shall pass.

Getting My Child to Act as Smart as She Is

2010-01-19T16:02:00.004-06:00

So, I've gotten feedback from a co-worker having a similar problem, which caused me to give the issue of Being Smart But Not Acting Smart some more thought. At the time I began blogging about my daughter's piss poor attitude and good grades, I was more than a little annoyed with this chick {still am}, and could not see the larger view of what's going on here.

Here. I'll internalize a bit.

When I was 3, I learned how to read. When I was 5, I began writing books about what my life would be like. When I was 8, I entered into a talented and gifted program that I participated in until I graduated from high school. Of course, I almost did not graduate because I skipped so much school that they wanted to hold me back due to excessive absences.

My Mom was furious when she realized what I'd done. "What the hell?!!" she asked; or let's be honest, screamed.

Here's the real: I was smart. Way too smart. But girls, especially Black girls, are not supposed to be smart. So, until I decided to suppress my thoughts and my little proper speech, it was really hard to fit in.

I worked so hard at trying to fit in. I just took on the full armor of ignorance: smart ass mouth, know-it-all attitude, rebellious as hell.

I gained some instant popularity by pretending to be dumb. And I was actually really good at that, too. And got more praise from my peers for it. They loved to see me get into trouble, skip school, and miss out on opportunities. I had to become an adult to realize why. This is just too big for a child to fathom.

Kids that don't have it going on want to believe that you suck too, so they can believe they have a chance in life. They won't try to improve, but if they see you decline, they will feel like they have.

Let's bring it home now. How do you help your child get it?

-- You love her. Those kids that are encouraging her to be dumb don't.

-- Getting good grades is easy for her because she's smart. Not everyone else has that knack for learning.

-- Being smart, over the long-term, will help her get further in life than the bad attitude.

-- And, dammit, if she does not pull it together, you're going to put a size 7.5 Adidas in her rear because you know what the deal is and you will not stand by and allow this bull to fly.

Well, contrary to all indications of my potty mouth, I have to turn to prayer. I don't really know what else to do, but I've learned that prayer fixes all things. I've learned that me and God is greater than the world. I'm not a child psychologist or a family counselor so I'm not going to give it to you like that. Pray. Logging off because I'm going to get a little knee time in myself.

Good Grades, Bad Attitude

2010-01-13T21:08:00.006-06:00

What do you do with the child that gets great grades but has a piss poor attitude? The child whose attitude is so jacked up, you can even justify rewarding the effort she put into earning grades. This is insane!

All week, I've been asking my daughter to see her report card. The boys received their report card on Friday of last week, so I KNEW Erica would be volunteering hers up some time soon.

I asked her Monday. Nope. I asked her Tuesday. Nope. Today, my boyfriend mentioned grades, and it occurred to me. I still have not seen this kids report card.

I asked, ", where is your report card?" She sighed, reached into her robe pocket, and handed me the piece of paper.

I asked, "Why did you not tell me you got your report card today. I've been waiting to see it. "

She looked me dead in the eye, sighed and said, "You asked me all week. I was waiting for you to ask me again today."

My response was, "Oh, OK. How about you bring me your phone and cable box, and go to bed at 9:30 for a couple of weeks? Maybe that will help you with that attitude."

I looked at her report card, and the grades are good. I just hate that I could not even celebrate her accomplishment. She took that away from me because she's just always trying to upset me. Why? Why? I love this child that looks JUST like me. . So, why the attitude?

What if I had had my Dad in my Life as a Child?

2010-01-11T13:39:00.008-06:00

I attended my Dad Joe's funeral Friday, and I'm here to tell the story. Instead of telling the story of how my half-brother tried to make me feel insignificant - even during my Dad's funeral ceremony - I'll tell the story of how the relationship that wasn't was, and how I think it's made an amazing difference in my life.

As a little girl, I fantasized ALL the time about how amazing it would be to have my Dad in my life. A couple of my friends had Dad's, and I just could not understand why I did not. I've accepted God's divine plan at this point, but on my bad days, it's still hard to accept what I lacked as a child.

-- I wanted to give my Dad all the crappy cards we were forced to create in elementary school to celebrate Father's Day.
-- I wanted to eat with my Dad at the Girl Scout's Father/Daughter luncheons.
-- I wanted my Dad's honorable name to display on my report card in that blank "Parent" field just below my Momma's.
-- I wanted my Dad to scare all the boys that gathered the nerve up to come to our house. I mean, my Mom did it, but it just wasn't the same.
-- I wanted my Dad to teach me guy stuff: fishing, boxing, killing bugs. Shit, scratching, I don't care!
-- At every parent-teacher conference, when the subject came up, I would've been happy as heck if my Dad would've been able to chime in when the snotty teacher asked my Momma if "a man was in the home."

Honestly, I just wanted some normalcy; not normal to my neighborhood or my little impoverished city where about 80% of the households were led by women (with no men), but normal to TV: Cosby Show, Leave it to Beaver, Family Ties, A.L.F., well damn, even The Simpsons.

So, I've come to grip with my childhood. I'm 34 and a Christian, so I've let go of the unfairness of not having my Dad in my life.

Besides, since the age of 18, my Dad has been amazing. He truly became my best friend.

-- My Dad knew that I got off at 5pm to go home, he'd call me 4 or 5 times a week and talk to me until I got home.
-- I almost dropped out of college, but my Dad came through with tuition to keep me in.
-- My Dad was amazing with my boisterous, hyper, always sports-minded sons - keeping them distracted for my entire trip to Texas by playing, football, catch, and "boy games" with them.
-- I could count on my Dad for giving me an honest insight on what made men tick. . He was an old Baptist minister, but he did not pull any punches. He always called a spade a spade.
-- When my Mom passed away, my Dad was my rock. I'm not touchy-feely, but I happen to know that if he did not hold me so tight during the entire ordeal, I would've fallen apart and just faded away. .
-- My Dad said he was sorry. He said he was sorry for hurting me. And that heartfelt apology, along with my faith in God, made the sting of him making me feel invisible as a child wear away.

The relationship with my dad that I was able to build over the last 15.5 years has taught me that God works in his own time. He truly is right on time, even if while you are going through it feels like you will not make it through. My Dad showed up in my life when I needed a Dad in my life; even though at the time I thought I was grown and did not realize it. He STILL helped me to grow into the woman I am today: strong, affectionate, forgiving, confident, humble. These are the attributes he brought to the table.. and I was able to absorb from the warmth he gave off.

It's not that my Momma did not do a kick-ass job raising 6 kids. She did. But after existing as a child the way that I did, my focus is on making sure I am not an obstacle to relationship between my children and their father.

I can't force it, but I'll never stand in the way. I won't be the cause of my child one day asking the question I can't help but to ask myself, "What if I had had my Dad in my Life as a Child?"

I'll do my part. The rest is up to Dude.

From Teenage Mother to Parenting a Teenager - Ooooh, Scary

2010-01-06T13:28:00.000-06:00

Occasionally, me and my Mom would get into a disagreement that would make my mom so fed up that she would force a conclusion to the discussion by saying, "Wait 'till you have your own kids. You'll see."

As a kid, I felt like just getting that statement out of her meant that I had won the argument. Whatever she was saying that I did not agree with would be heard no more because I had forced a conclusion to the discussion. . But then there's the element of Kharma.

When I was 17, my mom's warning rang in my ears when my doctor told me I was pregnant with a baby girl. It was a very fleeting moment because I was too immature at the time to even recognize the song that began to play in the background as this story began. I was elated!

After all the griping my Mom did at me to go to school, to work hard, to show her respect, to LISTEN, I would show her! I would be an awesome (teenage) mother. I would never fuss. I would give my daughter all the space she needed. I would treat her like a princess. I would be her very best friend in the whole wide world.

Now, fast forward SIXTEEN years later to today. I find myself raising a kid that looks and acts JUST LIKE ME. I'm not old enough to have forgotten what I was going through at her age, but she won't believe me when I tell her that because as far as she's concerned, I'm old. . I have no clue what's going on because I was NEVER a teenager.

[INSERT DAUGHTER'S NAME HERE], your bedtime is 10 pm, why are you up at midnight? RESPONSE: Mommy, you probably don't get this, but young people don't get sleepy at 10 pm. That's for old people!

[INSERT DAUGHTER'S NAME HERE], your hair is beautiful. I do not want you to die your hair black. RESPONSE: Why are you trying to control me? I'm not like everyone else, Mommy. I want to be my own person.

[INSERT DAUGHTER'S NAME HERE], if I don't know this friend, I do not feel comfortable allowing you to go over to their house or even having them spend the night in my home. RESPONSE: Mommy, you can't know ALL my friends. I have hundreds of friends.

[INSERT DAUGHTER'S NAME HERE], I have no problem with you traveling. Just give me time to coordinate my schedule, so I can enjoy that time with you. RESPONSE: Mom, I don't need you crowding my space every time I step out of the house. I got this!

[INSERT DAUGHTER'S NAME HERE], I promise that you will NOT die if you do not have those new jeans. RESPONSE: Mommy, you just don't understand!

Needless to say, my Mom's prediction was absolutely true. Sh e probably could not have predicted that my turmoil would be the result of becoming a teenage parent, but damn, did she have to be so right about everything else?

God, I wish I could apologize to her now for being a huge PIA, to tell her that I know now that she did understand, and to thank her for showing me true stick-with-it-ness in taking care of a rebellious teen because ALL of that knowledge is really handy right about now. It keeps this "old" mom sane; and reminds her that at some point, even if I'm not here to see it, there's an end to this sort of grief.

The New Years Resolutions that Will Not Be

2010-01-05T08:40:00.001-06:00

What a weird beginning to 2010. I'm so blah. . not feeling like I've shed the grief of 2009 and accepted all the new opportunities that are awaiting in 2010. Right now, I'm really just fakin' it 'til I make it.

As I always do, I started my list of New Years Resolutions. I do not remember anymore what #1 was, but #2 was to spend more time with my Dad. "More Time" as opposed to seeing him twice a year despite his constant pleas for more time. Arrrrrrrrgh. .

Joseph James Johnson, my Dad, passed away at 10 am on January 31, 2009 of prostate cancer. I was not there. I was at home planning for a party. I now hurt, and I carry a lot of regret with me in 2010. I know I will forget this mistake, but I will not forget the lesson, "Don't put off to tomorrow. . " I'm 34, but still learning the same damn lesson.. "

I remember which New Years resolution pertained to my Dad because that's as far as I got on the list. At the time I started, it was really important to record my list. I wanted to commit to the entire list, so I started it as a blog posting. Then, something happened. Maybe a child whined, or a friend text messaged, or the phone rang. I don't really know, but some distraction took me away from the list of New Year To Dos, and I never picked it back up.

And that's the way my life as gone so many times I could not count the instances to save my life. I've made a realization that I have to do something; something life-changing and long overdue. Then, I've gotten distracted by the details of life itself.

Well, what I won't do is to ever pen/type/speak another list of New Years resolutions. What I will do is to live/love/laugh for today. I will say "I love you" to the people I love with every opportunity. I will spend more time with the people I love and less with those that I'm iffy about. I will cherish the gifts that God has given me if only as a way to give him additional praise. I will not procrastinate. I will do more for others, even if it's an inconvenience to me. These are not New Years Resolutions, you see. These statements are now parts of my life's mission.

I will do better.

No "Goodbye Daddy" for me

2009-12-31T08:44:00.001-06:00

My Dad is dying of prostate cancer.

It's a frustrating fact that I've known for some time, but the desire to be sad about it became even more intense two days ago when I called to check in on him and his hospice nurse told me that he was so deeply drugged with Morphine that at this point, he has about a couple of days to live.

If it were my Mother, I would've hung up the phone, packed up the kids and the car, and got on the road to Texas. But it's my Dad, and there are obstacle -- really ridiculous, frustrating, hateful obstacles that should not be in my way. . This has just gone too far.

Most Recent History of The Obstacle:

My Dad got really sick just before Thanksgiving. All indications were pointing to eminent death. He was delirious. He weighed in at 85 lbs. He had a crazy high fever. And he could not get out of bed. So, I went to my hometown, Port Arthur Texas, four days before Thanksgiving to be with him. I needed to say goodbye before anything happened to the man that it took me half a lifetime to finally get an audience with. The man I'd day dreamed about as a child, but did not get to know until adulthood.

Going to my Dad's bedside turned out to be a horrible mistake. It killed a lot of childhood fantasies that I'd concocted and held onto into adulthood to hold on to the sense I'd made of my life. For example, while I was at my Dad's home over the Thanksgiving break I learned the following:

My Dad had acknowledged me to several members of his family (including his late wife), but never to his only son.
My Dad's son has known of my existence and resented me to the extreme.
My Dad's son is powerful and mean.
My Dad's son hates me.

These insights weighed heavily on me. They still do.

As a child, I envisioned a day when I'd be reunited with my Dad, the proud Reverend, and he would bring me into his big, beautiful home to live with his beautiful wife and their son. In this fantasy, my Dad's new family would love me the way I loved them. Why wouldn't they? We all had the same last name, and I look just like him. To a small child, this fantasy made a whole lot of sense.

Of course, in reality, I saw my Dad about 6 times my entire childhood. By the time I turned 18, I had abandoned all hope of him ever wanting to have anything to do with me. That's just the way it was.

Then, a small miracle happened. One that I'd prayed for from as early as I can remember: As I packed the car up to move to Arkansas after graduation, my Dad pulled up in front of my Momma's house and told me that he wanted us to have a relationship. It was a true indication of the goodness of God to a woman with the heart of a girl and the never-ending desire to have her father in her life.

From that day on, me and my Dad have had a really amazing relationship.

Me and my Dad have talked 4 or 5 times a week on the phone.
I've spent countless nights with my Dad in his home.
My Dad has been an incredible grandfather to my children; especially my sons who love him dearly.
My teenager daughter has spent the summer with him.
I attended his50th class reunion with him and my two uncles; which is one of the highlights of my life (pic of my Dad and his brothers at a reunion event I attended with them)

A little late coming, but my relationship with my Dad has been all that I had dreamed of as a child. Even better because he has become my best friend.

Fast forward to today. My Dad is dying and I've decided not to go home and be with him because if I do I'd face a very angry half-brother that will do whatever he can to make sure I feel like the outsider he's determined that I am.

When I was there for Thanksgiving, he said, "I will not spend one moment under the same roof with this woman. I do not know her, and I do not want to know her. She is not my family." Daggers to my heart.

I'm stuck now. I'm hurting because we are in the last days of my Dad's life, and I'm too afraid to return to Port Arthur to tell him goodbye. It would mean that I'd have to face my Dad's son and his look of disgust, and just don't have the strength. I will not let anyone take away the memories we've built over the last 15 years. These wonderful memories that I cling to that warm my heart every time I think of my old man. These wonderful memories that are just not strong enough to erase the childhood of disappointment and grief I suffered as a result of not having my Dad in my life. I just can't let him take the good memories away from me. There are not enough of them to shield me from the bad that wait just underneath.

A life-changing lesson brought to you by Mr. Bear

2009-12-17T12:45:00.001-06:00

I was outraged last night when I saw my 6-year old J punching Mr. Bear in the face. I felt physically sick and became more upset than he could possibly understand.

I barked at him, "Put Mr. Bear in my room where he belongs!" He looked at me like I had lost my mind. I'm sure he was thinking to himself, "It's just a stupid stuffed animal!"

I really wanted to tell him what that little yellow bear means to me. I'm not smart enough to describe on a 1st grade level how that stuffed animal continues to impact my life. However, we're all adults, right? So, I figured I'd just tell you, instead.

For my 10th birthday, I wanted this really cool Schwinn bike and a pair of baby blue and pink Pro Wing tennis shoes for my birthday. I only told my Momma a gazillion times what I wanted - every detail of the color, brand, smell, feel, everything. So when I went to bed the night before my big day, I just KNEW I had my gifts on lock down. It was just a matter of waking up. I just KNEW it!

I woke up the next morning, which was a Monday, and got ready to go to school. I put on my nicest pink shirt that I knew would compliment my new shoes. Everyone needed to see the coordination, the planning, the final result.

I was in my Momma's room about 2 hours before I even had to be at school. The entire house was still dark. But of course, she was up. She was sitting in a chair in the corner of her room reading her Bible.

I walked in with a big smile. "Good morning, Momma." "Happy Birthday, baby," she said, and gave me a big hug. I peeped behind the chair while Momma was giving me the hug to see if I could get a quick preview of my gifts, but did not see anything. No worries. We had an awkward moment because I never had to actually ASK for my gifts before. Usually, when I woke up, they were on my bed or in the doorway of my room, or in the living room or the back porch. I had already checked those places and come up empty, so now I knew I would have to show my 10 years of maturity with an extra level of patience.

Keep in mind, I have not mastered the whole patient thing to this day. But I did not want to explode and lose out on my gifts, so I gave Momma about 45 seconds to up the loot, but still got nothing.

Finally, I just had to ask, "Momma, where are my presents?" She bit her lip for a second, and left the room. For the 30 seconds it took her, my heart was beating so loudly, I could barely contain myself. I start hopping and spinning in circles, singing, dancing. I had a mini-party going on for awhile. Then she returned.

She came back into the room with a half-smile. She was holding this pitiful yellow bear that I had seen earlier in a bag of second-hand clothes we were given that she sat on the back porch to wash. She held her arms out and said, "Here you go. Happy birthday, Baby."

What? Happy Birthday? Huh? What just happened? Is this a joke or something? No way!

I felt like Momma had betrayed me.

"Where's my bike? Where are my shoes?!! Where are my presents?" I asked.

Really quietly.. really slowly, she said, "Momma just did not have it this time!"

Before I could even think, I had thrown the bear to the other side of the room, said something disrespectful, and stomped out of the room. The house was still quiet, noone but me and her were even up. My 5 siblings did not really care what day it was. I did not expect them to. It was her job to make me happy on my birthday.

I gathered up every ugly thing I could say to make her pay for ruining the most important day of my life. I walked back into her room to let her have it, but never got to say them. When I walked up, I saw the one thing that would force humanity onto a spoiled ten-year old. I saw my Momma cry.

No, she did not have tears falling right and left. My Momma was proud and strong. She had been through A LOT, but I had never seen my Momma cry. Up until that moment, I did not think she ever did.

She had one single tear caught in the corner of her right eye. But when she looked at me, she smiled. Her smile reminded me of a lot of what I'd seen in my 10 short years. I had seen that smile when I was 4 and my brother kicked me in the face (by mistake) so hard it split the side of my mouth open. I passed out when I saw the blood, but when I recovered, I remembered seeing my Momma's beautiful smile. I had seen that smile on many of the days when the little boys in my neighborhood teased me for having nappy hair, big lips, and skinny legs. Out of the lips that held that smile, I always heard, "They don't see it now, but you are beautiful. You are so beautiful, and even better, you are smart." I had seen that smile after waiting at the door for 12 hours one time waiting for a dead-beat Dad that never showed up for a promised visit. I would not eat or drink while I waited because I did not want to get anything on my pretty dress. I was too weak and disgusted to even get up and walk away from the door when I realized he wasn't coming. Momma smiled when she picked me up and carried me into the kitchen to sit me down to eat.

I took in that single tear and that beautiful smile, and in that moment I grew up. I learned that in life you are not always going to get what you want, but if you have someone in your corner that loves you. . that really loves you, that's a gift in itself. . one that you will never outgrow.

I thank God that I learned how to love and recognize love so early on. I thank God for Momma. I thank God for Mr. Bear.

Christmas brings back dear memories of Momma

2009-12-11T15:19:00.000-06:00

I've erected a Christmas tree, added some lights, and even some colorful ornaments, but I cannot seem to get it like Momma's tree use to be.

We could never afford a large tree, but neither of us was much taller than 5 feet, so that was never a real problem.

She would add ornaments that she had collected over the years - ones we'd made, ones she bought, ones that were given - there were generations of people represented in that little tree.

That poor Goodwill tree that she bought for $4 after haggling the cashier down from $10. I can hear Momma now. "Isn't this a Goodwill. I don't have $10. That's my whole Christmas." I knew she had more, but the poor cashier fell for it and let a pretty decent tree go for really cheap. So, from the age of about 7 until I can remember, we loaded that little $4 tree down with glass, ceramic, paper, and every other ornament you could imagine. Then added on a layer of heavy lights.

It was beautiful!

So, what's my tree lacking? It's actually a very expensive tree with some pricey ornaments on it. Yeah, one of the string of lights is flashing - which I hate - but it's a pretty nice tree. Why is it not giving me the same satisfaction as the Goodwill tree.

Well, I can try adding more lights. I could go ahead and put a few wrapped gifts under the tree. I could even move it to an opposite end of the living room. But I know that it won't work.

What's missing is what use to be the reason I rushed to the living room on Christmas morning ,even though I often did not have any presents to open. Even my tree is missing Momma.

Boy, what I would give for her to be here. What I would give for one more chance to give Momma a gift. I would make it really fancy, too. Something that would be the proper thanks for all the sacrifices she made for me and my 5 siblings as she worked her ass off as a single mother.

I'd spend my last to send her on a cruise. I'd take out a loan to buy her something shiny. {She liked shiny things.} I'd stay up all night laughing at one of her funny stories. I'd cook her favorite food. With every sentence, I'd tell her all the reasons she was the best Mom in the world.

I'm spending a lot of time in the glow of Christmas lights missing Momma.

I'm not going to ruin Christmas for everyone by moping around. Momma would hate that.

Since I can't be with her this Christmas, I'm going to enjoy her grandbabies instead. I'm going to put our difference aside and invite my sister to share the holiday with my family. I'm going to tell each and every person that comes into my home how much I love them.

Momma passed away in November of 2007 of lung cancer. I know she's in a better place. She was a woman of God and is getting her just reward. She will never again will experience pain, loneliness, sadness or fear. But man oh man, I cannot get through a day, especially not during the holiday, without wishing she were here.

If I could have one thing for Christmas. . well, you get it.

Teaching my son to be a man: Excuse my potty mouth

2009-12-09T14:34:00.002-06:00

For the sensitive and ultra-conservative, this is not your kinda story. . To add to that, for the sensitive and ultra-conservative, this is not your kinda blog. . but let's not get caught up in introductions.

This weekend me, the kids, and the boyfriend braved the crazy cold weather to watch the Little Rock Christmas Parade (after being FORCED to watch the crappy Jacksonville Christmas Parade because my daughter's band chose to partake) which is a component of our holiday tradition that we continue to maintain.

At some point near the end, my six year old, could not wait to go pee. So the boyfriend did the honorable thing and volunteered to take my son to the potty.

As you are considering what happened next, please remember that my family is not the outdoorsy type. We generally hold our pee for indoor plumbing, so the whole "you have to pee outside" thing probably took my son by surprise.

Once he was correctly positioned to do his business, my son did what he was taught to do. He pulled his pants down to pee. Apparently, the expectation (from the boyfriend) was that he would reveal the portion of his body that needed to perform for this duty and leave the rest of his body cozily covered in the 30ish degree weather. But again, as he was taught, my son, pulled his pants down to his ankles and commenced to go pee.

The boyfriend was shocked - appauled even - to look over and see my son's bottom and a large portion of his legs bare while he went to the bathroom. He asked, "Son, what are you doing?" Of course, my son looked at him and stated the obvious, ".. going pee."

The boyfriend took note of the scene, allowed my son to fully relieve himself, and waited until we were comfortably at home to dig deeper into what he thought was a very odd tendency for my fully potty trained six-year old son. He described, as I have to you, what happened, and waited until the end to burst into laughter.

I had my back to him, so it took him quite a while to figure out that I did not get the humor in the situation. Since I had not caught on, I thought I would address him.

"What else could J do when he went to the bathroom if he did not pull down his pants?" I asked. "Ha! Well, he could've just taken it out. He can't just expose his entire body every time he has to go pee," said the boyfriend. "What does he do when he goes to a regular bathroom: at home, the mall, or at school?"

Without him saying it, I was then able to figure it out. I never gave consideration to what men do when I potty trained my boys. My eight-year old had somehow just picked it up, but not the baby. He did what Mommy does. .

I can do this. I can teach my sons to be a man. I can teach them to be caring, honest, hard-working, dependable.. all the good stuff that comes with being a human being. But my brother, boyfriend, church member, friends, ex (as much as I hate to mention him), are invaluable in guiding me and my sons on the details that I miss..

And by all means, don't die of embarrassment when you learn about the missed details in public. I'm not perfect. Bring it to light. We can laugh and move on.

Giving and getting something "different" this Christmas

2009-12-08T11:13:00.001-06:00

Christmas use to be the bomb! Spending money. Getting all the crap I just window shopped for throughout the year. Every year, I pretty much hit the mother load. It was awesome.

I collected a bunch of loot and tried to figure out how I could prolong the new feeling of each and every present by pulling off some sort of mix and match when I wore or displayed them.

It was bananas the number of compliments I got on a pair of diamond earrings, a dazzling diamond ring, a tennis bracelet, or an expensive purse. Bananas, I tell you! I loved it. I ABSOLUTELY loved it!

Until the truth was revealed. That STUFF did not make me special. It did not make me immune from heart ache. It did not make me feel any more secure as a result. It did not even make me happy. It definitely did not make my children happy. It did deflect questions about, "Now, why are you with this guy for over a decade when you have no intention on marrying him." Having a bunch of stuff gave me a tangible way to overshadow a really dark side of myself. I had become really shallow.

So, why give it all up now? Why start from scratch now? What's different?

I've grown up. Damn, I'm 34. I have 3 children who need me to think outside of the glitter and gold and to care about the larger picture. And truly the most real reason is that I've lost enough people to know that I need to be always reflecting on the importance of what's real and staying true to who I was raised to be.

We grew up poor. On Christmas day, you may not have received a gift. You were fed. You were happy. You were surrounded by family that loved you and showed you love on that day that was more powerful than a black Barbie doll or a Walkman. It was special.

We spent Christmas laughing and bonding and loving and listening and growing. It was a really blessed experience.

That's what I want to give my children. . I want to give them CHRISTmas. This is going to be the very first Christmas that they will not have a stack of gifts that soar higher than the tree. They will not get to open their gifts and retreat to their rooms to play.

I'm going to give them the gift my momma gave me that keeps giving all year round. I'm going to give them love, happiness, and some special memories of family.

I have never looked forward to a Christmas the way I look forward to this one.

I met a guy

2009-11-17T11:50:00.000-06:00

Since the 5th grade, when I'm approached by a boy I like I get all nervous. I start wondering, "What if he doesn't REALLY like me?", "What if he likes me today, but likes someone more tomorrow?" What if? What if? What if?

Well, I've met a guy. . a really sweet guys. . that likes me.

He's 6'3, smart, and handsome. . Hey! I'm not picky. It just worked out that way.

I read Steve Harvey's book, so I want ahead and put it on the line. I asked him questions about his relationship with his mother, his sister, his daughter, and God. I told him my priorities are God, family, education, work, and everything else, and said outright that I'm a Christian and require a Christian. [No, I'm not perfect, but I'm not ashamed of my love for God, either.] His interview went really well, I have to say.

To top it off, he was able to stick with me for 8 miles on the Big Dam bridge and has volunteered to join me in the Little Rock Marathon. . No, seriously, he did. 1 1/2 weeks and I'm still impressed.

Now, here the question everyone that's been stung asks, "What's wrong with the guy?" Can he not tell that I'm impatient, picky at times, overly linear, and pretty darn bossy?

I have not figured it all out, but I have plenty of time. . Slow and easy as we go. . I'll let you know how things go as this situation unfolds.

Here's what I won't do

2009-11-12T09:11:00.000-06:00

I was shocked yet thoroughly entertained by a friend of mine who told me that his sister got her fiance to agree (then adhere to when they got married) to change his last name to the last name of her child's father.. He agreed to that! Ha!

I spent some time thinking about the dynamics of a relationship and the personality of these two individuals that could lead to this sort of decision, and was thinking if I could ever be so self-serving, inconsiderate and downright bossy.

Don't get me wrong. . I'm not going to pretend that I don't often find myself in one of those 3 modes. Since the moment I became single, I have to admit that I've spent most of my time thinking of myself and my children (and pretty much noone else), focusing solely on what I can do that's right for us with little consideration for former friends or new wooers, and running thangs.. What can I say, I'm in charge. .

However, this whole approach to completely control my man to the point where he's no longer considered a man to his friends, family, me, my children, and apparently, everyone that hears this crazy story. . I just can't do. . Hell, I love men.. I REALLY love men.. Did I say I love men? Sorry, a little flurry came over my spirit just thinking about it.

I want to uplift, encourage, support, and one day maybe even submit to the man that belongs to me and only me. . And if that man is so weak as to let me run over him, well that's just not for me.. This craziness, as humorous as it may seem, is one thing I will not do.

You are the EX: Here are the rules

2009-11-03T18:49:00.000-06:00

Forget dating rules. I now devoutly believe there should be Ex Factor Rules; a system of rules and guidelines that the EX must follow once he's screwed himself out of a great relationship.

Of course, I'm not an expert on establishing bylaws or legal agreements, but I am now on the list of The Unfortunate Few Who Have Somehow Earned Themselves the Ex from Hell, and I'd like to lay down a few guidelines. Of course, my particular EX has no respect for rules, which of course, is only one (of the many reasons) he is now the EX, but I figure while I'm suffering I may as well humor myself anway.

Now, if you are one of those really smart people who go into a relationship thinking, hmmmm, this person could become a really bad EX, please feel free to print off the list of Ex Factor Rules and somehow coerce your soon to be crazy EX into signing them. Good luck with that, BTW.

Ex Factor Rules:

You will NOT call me blocked when I've decided to stop answering your phone calls. {I'm not stupid. You just called 12 seconds ago. I know it's still you.}
You will NOT compliment me on the new furniture I bought after you broke into my house and stole the old stuff. {And how did you get close enough to my house to see the new furniture? Don't I have a restraining order against you anyway?}
You will NOT ask our mutual acquaintances to give me messages from you. {In case you did not figure it out during the 14 years we were together, dude, they HATE you! Everyone, now including me, knows you are a cheating PIA.}
You should NOT expect a gift on your birthday, our now defunct anniversary, or any recognized or un-recognized holiday. {I am now saving my money to do that sort of special stuff for people I actually like. . or at least, who do not make me want to choke them.}
You will NOT convince yourself - after learning that the 4 other women you brought into our relationship were not the one for you - that I am, oh yeah, in fact the one. {Yeah, I love Sponge Bob, but will not tempt fate with a CRABBY PATTY or anything in jeapordy of being said patty. I'll pass.}
You will NOT send me various YouTube songs throughout the day with various "I miss you" lyrics. {You are totally interrupting my Mary J. Blige on Pandora.. and this is not the old depressed Mary J. this is the new "Moving On" Mary J.}
When you are finally fortunate enough to somehow get my attention for more than the 2 seconds it takes me to realize it's you and securely lock the door to my home or car, do NOT waste your time asking me if I miss you. {Let me see, do I miss the person who took away the peace and security we built for ourselves and our children during our 14 year relationship by chasing a piece of tail. Wow! This is gonna be a hard one, but I'll go ahead and throw out a HELL no!}

Now, as with our wonderful constitution, I want to be flexible with these Ex Factor Rules, because I know this fool is going to do something that's going to make me add to the list by way of an (informal) amendment. However, getting him to adhere to this list would actually alleviate most of the ridiculous moments I find myself having every time I have to interact with this fool.

Of course, because of my ever so weak stomach, I do not have it in me to ever approach my EX with the list, so I'm hoping it will serve as the point of reference I need when I'm forced to interact with the PIA.. even if it is only referenced in my mind.

When will my knight in shining armor come long?

2009-08-31T20:20:00.001-05:00

My facade gives people the impression that I've got everything under control. Others are so comforted by the idea that they tend to turn to me for advice, thinking that if they accept my advice, they will have a perfect life just like I do.

Well, it is pretty freakin' awesome, right?

I have a dream job. I work for a non-profit dedicating to ending hunger and poverty and caring for the earth. How cool is that?

I have 3 beautiful children; all out of the bottle-sucking, diaper soiling stage. I feel pretty good about that.

I own my own home, and a new car, and a cute dog. . and blah. . blah blah. blah blah. . Life is so freaking awesome. Right?

WRONG!!!!!!

I work, and I nurture, and I pray. . all alone. . I cook, and clean, and repair. . all alone. . I am alone after being in a 14 year relationship that I honestly thought would last forever. But no. I'm alone.

I will NOT complain. I know God's sense of humor. He'll send the smite to me, and I will wake up with one enlarged eye and one crooked leg. I get it. But if there are any more blessings waiting for me up there. . any additional grace God is planning to pour down on me. . any other special favor he wants to grant. .

If there's anything else, God, please let it be wrapped in someone 5'10 or taller, 180 lbs or smaller, employed, funny, smart, comfortable around kids, and most of all God fearing.

Amen.