Last Christmas

This Christmas week, has been very merry indeed. Its been filled with family, friends, food, laughter, presents and love. But, its also been bitter sweet.

I've spent nearly 30 Christmas' in this home, and this year is the last one I ever will. My parents are retiring in 2015, and they are moving to another town to be closer to family, which is wonderful and exciting. But these past few days, as we've helped my parents clean out the attic and sort through the stuff, there have been moments where I felt nearly paralyzed with sadness as I was overcome with memories and emotions. 

My parents close on their new house on January 9th, but won't retire until the summer. But, that weekend in January, they plan to begin moving things to their new house each month, to make the final move easier. The next time I step foot in this home, there will not be a bed in my room, or things in my closet. The end is very near. 

Last night, Christmas eve, we went to our final Christmas service at church. The church were I was baptized, where I met Jesus, and went to Sunday school. The church where I made friends, played on the lawn, spent countless hours. During our final song, I stood quietly looking at the alter, taking it all in, just wanting to remember the church, because its been exactly the same since I was a child. 

And last night, I woke up after everyone went to bed, and wondered the quite rooms of this house.  A lot of life happened between these four walls. Good things and bad. Memories and moments that we treasure, and a million others that we have long since forgotten. Dreams came true, hearts were broken, fights and make up's occurred. First kisses, slow dances, parties. They all happened here. It is just a house, just brick and drywall, but somewhere along the way, it became home. A refuge from the storm, a place where love always prevailed. 

We leave tomorrow afternoon to head back to Dallas. So this, my final night, in my home before everything changes, before everything is different, before normal is no more, I will take a moment to thank this house. Thank it for always being warm and inviting. For always keeping me safe from the storm, and for being more than just a house. 

In these last few hours and days of the only "normal" I've ever known, I'm reminded of the quote by Steven Rogers. "Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but its whats in the middle that counts. So when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will."

Someone Who's Known Me for a Long Time

Yesterday was my grandmothers 91st birthday. As much as I wanted to be there at her house, I just couldn't. She lives 5 hours away, and it was not feasible logistically. We did spend a long time face timing and chatting, which was great.

As my last remaining grandparent, she holds such a special place in my heart. Her smile, her laugh, her smell. She is one of the last of her generation. She grew up in South Louisiana to a family of Cajun farmers. She still speaks broken English, and when she gets excited she starts speaking in Cajun French. My great uncle, her brother, only speaks Cajun, and so to communicate with him, we have to go thru her.

Last night, face timing with her was bitter sweet. It was such fun to see her laugh, to sing happy birthday to her while she had her chocolate cupcakes in front of her. But, it was sad because, I had to wonder how many birthday's she has left.

While she has never been the most worldly, the most educated, or most well spoken, she has always been one of the people that I am most closest to. Growing up, when times got turbulent, I ran to her house. When I got my license and car, the first place I drove was to her house.  We would spend hours talking, and even more not talking. She was so content to just sit and be with me, and ask nothing in return.

The day I graduated high school, and had a diploma in my hand, I went to her house. I sat next to her rocker, and she held my diploma and cried for joy. See, my grandmother had to drop of of school when she was in 8th grade to help with the family farm. I think she always wanted to go back to school, but never did. Then, when I graduated college and then finished my masters, she again, held both in her hands and cried.

She is one of the few remaining people in my life who has known me for a really long time. One of the people that can look back and recall each phase of my life, what I was like and who I was. She holds as much of my history as anyone.

Looking over her life, I cannot imagine what she must think when she looks at the world today. She's never driven a car, never used a cell phone, or surfed the web. (My mom and dad take their iPad to her house to face time with her). In her lifetime she has seen a world war, schools desegregated, women's right expanded, and a computer placed in nearly every household.

How strange and complicated the world must seem. How very different and complicated from when she grew up and where she came from.

While I know she will never read this, I simply want to say again, Happy Birthday Grandma, I love you. (Chances are my mom will end up reading this to her, so thanks mom!)

Contemplation

By nature, I am not normally very contemplative.

I don't spend a ton of time thinking about the day's gone by or yearning for yesteryear. At times, I could probably even be accused of being some what flippant. It is not hard for me to let things go, or shut things off.

However, on Sunday, I found myself laying in the afternoon sun on our deck thinking about years gone by. Yearning to go back in time, and grab the girl I once was and hug her, and whisper truth in her ear. I was yearning for friendship lost, for experiences never taken, and for mistakes that were made.

All of this was brought on by seeing someone I have not seen in 7 years. Someone whom I've always loved, but walked out of my life 15 years ago. Someone who cut the cord, and didn't make me a priority for a long time. That someone is my brother.

 Because he was my older brother, I idolized him. I wanted to be his best friend, and would do anything for him. He gave me my first sip of beer, let me drive his truck around the neighborhood when I was just 13 and my parents weren't home. He took me to my first high school party. He took me shopping with his money and bought me a pair of boots I wanted that my parents would not get for me because they were too expensive. He was a great older brother.

15 years ago, he was in college at Texas A&M, studying Economics, and seemed to have everything going for him. He was smart, funny, and had a ton of friends. Everything was going according to plan.

Then, one day, he called home and told my mom he was dropping out of school. He came home dropped off all his possessions, and walked out of our lives. He spent the past 15 years living in 7 different countries, working on and off, studying, and becoming fluent in several different languages. He has been a bit of a bohemian for the past decade. During that time, he would write a few letters a year, and call to check in maybe once a month at most.

For those left behind, it was almost like dealing with a death. We mourned, we missed him, we were angry, we accepted, and we grew, and we changed. We had to. It was almost like my brother leaving made my parents and I cling to each other that much more.

2 years ago, my brother came home, a decision that he never fully explained. He stayed at my parents house for a few weeks, and decided that he wanted to finish school and stay in the States. During the past 2 years, we have talked on the phone a handful of times, but have never seen each other until this past weekend.

For the long 4th of July weekend, P and I drove down to central Texas to spend the long weekend with my side of the family. To say I was nervous and didn't know what to expect would be an understatement. When he walked through the door on Friday afternoon, the moment was exciting, surreal, and uncomfortable. I didn't quite know how to act or what to say.

The weekend flew by, and he had a lot of fun. We talked, we ate, we caught up a bit. Will I see him again soon, that I cannot answer.

But, the experience left me thinking so many things. I was flooded with memories that I had long since forgotten. Sunday evening, I stared off into the sunset and allowed my mind to wander. I thought about the good and bad.

You never get a say in the hand you are dealt, you just learn to deal and adapt. You learn how to operate in the situation in which you are placed. You learn how to live and thrive even when you are hurting. You learn from the past, and hope for a better future. You learn that nothing is certain, and that sometimes plans fall through, and people let you down. You learn that "normal" is a fluid concept.

A Thank You to my Dad, on Veterans Day

This is a picture of that young man, he is just not so young in this picture.

Many years ago, there was a young boy fresh out of high school, just a year into his college career who was drafted. A young man that had only traveled between two places, Louisiana and Texas. A young man who didn't have much in the way of opportunities or money. A young man who would not flee when he was summoned to duty. A young man who was scared about what was to come in a far away place that was nearly 9,000 miles from anything he had ever known. A young man plucked from oblivion and flown to a scary and war torn country.

That young man was my dad.

Today dad, I salute you, and I thank you for your service in the military. I can't imagine the emotions, adrenaline, or fear that you experienced when your number was called. I can't imagine what it was like to be taken from your home, from everything you had even known, and shipped across the world to fight.

You never talked much about your time in the war, and I understand why. Much like the men and women today, you came home with scars, and I am sure the mental scars ran deeper than any of the physical. By the grace of God, you survived, came home, went to work, met mom, had a couple of kids, and built a life for yourself. You gave so much, and asked so little in return.

Thank you for being brave and for fighting for our freedom. Thank you for serving your country.
And, if there are any veterans out there who read this little blog, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I am in awe of you and I am grateful for your courage and strength.

Happy Veterans day.

Happy Fathers Day, Big Poppi

Dad,

 

I feel like I have so much to say to you, but the words just are not coming out right. I have tried to write this 3 times already, but the words never fully expressed what I am trying to say.

 

Simply put, I love you so much, and I am so thankful to you. I don't know how you did it all those years. Working 3 jobs, working 80 hour weeks, putting up with us. You really did lay down your life for us didn't you?

 

You were such a rock when we were growing up. I don't know how many times I walked into the garage to talk at night. You would be working or tinkering on something, and I would come sit on the counter and tell you about my day, my frustrations, or my dreams. I loved those times. You listened, talked, advised, and then gave me a hug and told me how proud you were of me. You said that all the time, and it was exactly what I needed to hear.

 

You also listened without judgment. I think that was why I was never scared to confide in you. I knew that if I told you something, you would never hold it over my head. You accepted me flaws and all.

 

Thank you for loving me Dad. Thank you for spending hours practice soccer with me in the back yard. Thank you for driving thousands of miles to watch every single game I played. Thank you for buying hundred of meals for me after games. Thank you for giving me away at our wedding. Thank you for being who you are and sacrificing your dreams, so that I could achieve mine.

 

I love you. Happy Fathers day.

 

 

 

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This Wine is Making me Awesome, Weekend Edition

This weekend was in a word, Awesome. It was not exactly as I planned it, but it was refreshing. 

P and I needed to get out of town. These past few weeks have been nuts. P and I have been busier than ever, and we needed a weekend away from work, away from our house, and away from life. To say that work has been crazy would be an understatement  P has been working non stop these past few weeks on some huge projects. 70-80 hours a week have been the norm. He would leave the house before 6 AM, come home about 9 or 10, then spend a few more hours doing paperwork and getting organized. He was burning the candles at both ends. 

P and I were able to hit the road early Friday. We packed the car and hit the road to drive down to central Texas, the beautiful hill country. We managed to hit traffic and the 2 hour drive suddenly became closer to 4. NBD. Bumper to bumper traffic for a fun filled weekend in the sun could not get me down. 

I MADE PLANS. Fortunately, we have family that lives near a beautiful lake, and I have spent the past 3 weeks looking for a stand up paddle board to surprise P with on Craigslist. I could not find a board, but found a shop to rent them. The plan was to sleep late, eat bad food, then spend hours each day playing on the lake. Ol' mother nature had different plans. On the drive down, we hit some serious storms, and when I checked my trusty Iphone, she confirmed the storms were going to last all weekend. I got bummed for about 10 minutes, got over it, and started looking for other things to do.

First up, Saturday morning, we ran a 5K. If you remember I have been really struggling with my running. Between my whore foot (that is the precious nickname I have given to the wart on my right foot, because according to my podiatrist, if I were less of a slut, I would not have contracted the disease that causes warts), and some really bad runs, I needed a confidence booster. I got it on Saturday. I ran a hilly 5K in 26 minutes. That is a whole minute and a half slower than my PR, but I proved to myself that I can in fact run more than 500 yards without dying. What made it even more fun was that my mom and P decided to do the run with me! P rocked it! He has been working so many hours that he has not had a ton of time to work out, so the fact that he did it, made me so proud. And my mom, who has lost around 25 pounds these past few months did a combo of run and walk--her sprint at the end was awesome---she killed it. 

After a very sweaty run, we showered and went wine tasting. Never done this before, but it was a blast. We went to 2 wineries, tried some funk nasty wines, and then has some killer good wine. The point was, we had a good excuse to day drink, and laugh, a lot. I asked the lady in the 1st place if she had any good boxed wine on hand, I think she almost punched me in the face.

The rain stopped for a bit, while we were wine tasting, so we took a stroll through town, went to a friends house for a dip in the pool, but it was pretty chilly so we got out, then went out for dinner. 

I ate way to much, and it was all bad. This weekend, I didn't care what I ate. I just enjoyed being with family, not paying any attention to my growing inbox, and eating a ton of greasy burgers in between double fisting M&M's. 

The weekend was not at all what I had wanted to do originally, but it was wonderful none the less. I left feeling free, clear headed and happy. 

Happy Birthday to the greatest woman I know

I call her many things, momsicle, mompop, momzilla,ma,momsie,woman, but the most important thing I call her is mom.

This is a woman who birthed me, raised me, and put up with me, nonsense and all. She held my hand when I shed tears, and held my heart when it was broken. She forced me to pick myself up time and time again, not that she was ever gentle about it.

She is a woman made of steel and grit. She has had to rely on her strength time and time again. For many years, life was not easy, it was a struggle, daily. But she pressed on, got up each day, put one foot in front of the other, and pressed on. She was strong because she had to be, and needed to be. She never complained about how hard it was, she simply pressed forward.

Despite her tough shell, she is soft inside. That tough exterior harded after many a long day. But just beyond the fighter is a woman who has a heart of gold. She will dispense advise, but will also listen. A heart that over flowes with love, kindess, and charity. A heart cries at sweet commercials, but she fights valiently to hide the tears as they streak down her face.

She believes in faith, family, charity, and strength. She knows not of her own beauty, but sees it in others. She does not understand how much she means to so many people. Friend to many, mother to two, wife to one.

She is my best friend, my confidant, my mom. I am so proud to be her daughter, and I hope one day I grow up to be just like her.

Happy birthday mom, I love you more than words can say.

Checking on Pop

Last weekend I went to Maine on a ski trip with friends and I had an amazing time. It was an anniversary, birthday,Christmas, Valentines,St. Patty's Day, Presidents Day, Memorial Day, Easter, and Thanksgiving present that P and I gave each other this year.  It was a short trip, but it was amazing none the less.

Look at this view, its amazing. How could it get any better?

While we were on the trip, my dad had his heart attack.  My parents did not tell me while we were on the trip. We flew back into town on Monday, and my mom text me around 8:00 PM asking if I had time to chat. I called her and we talked about the trip, and then she dropped the bomb. By 8:15 I had the Ipad on my lap looking for flights home.

I flew down to my parents neck of the woods on Friday around 5:00. I gave my dad a big hug and he and my mom assured me that he was ok, and was going to make a full recovery.

On the way from the airport I looked out my car window and saw this sunset. I sat there quietly for a moment and was so utterly grateful that my dad was going to be around awhile longer. I have looked at this picture quite a bit lately simply because we live in the city, and you  don't see views like this from our place, although, I can't honestly remember the last time I walked outside to try and see the sunset.

It saddens me that it took a medical emergency for me to stop and take note of something so extradorinary as a sunset. Its so beautiful and big, that it makes me feel small, but it a good way. It reminds me that somewhere, someone else is looking at that exact same sun setting, and they are going through something worse than I am.

 

I made a promise to myself that I would get up early on Saturday and Sunday and chase the sun rise. I would be outside, and bask in the beauty around me. Both days I woke up, put on my running shoes and hit the pavement. I ran to feel good. I did not have my garmin, I have no idea my pace, my distance, or the calories I burned. I ran, I walked, I turned my music on and off. I simply enjoyed a quiet morning, a slow morning, a morning for me.

 

In the end it was a good trip. My dad has to make some changes in his diet, and I was full of suggestions, and to say my dad was not pleased with what I suggested would be an understatement.

To him, anything beyond red meat and potatoes is exotic, his word, not mine. My way of eating must truly baffle him.

 

I was telling him about the wonder of kale chips, oatmeal, and tofu.  I think in that moment he wished the heart attack had just ended it.

 

He survived my suggestions, and even had oats for breakfast this morning.

 

Of all the things I saw this weekend, I think the most beautiful was my family. My mom, dad, grandma, and uncle. The only thing missing was P. Even when my mom and dad were bickering about food choices, it was good. In that moment I was reminded of a quote by Elizabeth Elliot

"Snoring is the sweetest sound you will ever hear, just ask any widow."

 

This week I vow not to let "busy" stop me from seeing the beauty all around me. I will open my heart, open my eyes, and allow myself to be vulnerable, to be full, to be empty, to just be.

 

What is the most beautiful thing you have seen, heard, or witnessed recently?

Control

I pride myself on being in control. I find comfort in the controllable. I can control my attitude, I can control my to do lists, I can control how I react to situations. I like to be in control of my being, and the things around me.

When things happen that I cannot control, I suddenly feel very small, vulnerable and scared. There is nothing like an event that is uncontrollable to make you feel like your world has come crashing down.

Last week my dad had a heart attack. When I found out, I sat straight up in bed, and started asking questions, I immediately got my Ipad out started researching heart attacks. I wanted to know causes, triggers, how to treat them, how to recover from them, how to eat after a heart attack.

When I found out, I was stunned to say the least. I cried a lot, read a lot, prayed a lot, and forced myself to dwell upon some unpleasant realities. I think I shrunk about three inches. So often, we walk around as if we are invincible, well, at least I do. But then, when you get news like that, the shield of invincibility falls, and you are left standing there like a knight without armor. I don't think you can ever really brace yourself for a hit like that, a sucker punch to the gut.  All you can do is take in the news, and process. There is no amount of list making, house cleaning, mile running, or organizing that can take away that pain.

It is weird to me to live in a world where my parents are older, and no longer the super hero's of my youth. The ones that could lift heavy things, endure all kinds of pain, and push and push and push to the point of exhaustion. They can't do that kind of stuff any more, and its scary.

Fortunately, my dad only had a mild heart attack, and he is going to be fine. But that has not stopped the tears from flowing. For someone who has control of herself, the tears have been right behind the surface, and have come out in soft cries in the middle of the day, to huge sobs in bed in the  middle of the night. I am a woman who does not have control of this situation, and there is nothing I can do to change this reality. I have to accept, pray, and try and move forward.

Different Christmas

I guess I should tell you that traditions are sacred to me, especially the ones that we have been doing since my childhood. Heck, some traditions that I started last week on a whim are sacred and important to me. They give me a sense of stability and focus in a world that is ultimately out of control, that changes moment to moment, with very little to count on. P does something once, and if he never does it again, I freak and think he is bucking tradition and withdrawing his love. See, one thing you need to know about this family is, we kind of kill it at Christmas. Our traditions are great, the food is awesome, and we have been doing things exactly the same since the 80's. We eat the same food, go to the same places, the only things that change are the outfits, cars, and hairstyles. Imagine how distraught I was when I came home to find, Different Christmas.

Last year, my parents moved their Christmas tree. For more than 20 years, the tree stood in the same place year after year. Then suddenly, last year, they willy-nilly moved the tree without any respect to my feelings, my objections, or pleas to leave it where it had historically always been. That is strike 1.

This year, my 86 year old grandmother moved her tree. I walked into her home on the 23rd to visit and the first thing I asked was "Grandma, why did you move the tree?" She replied, "I told J (my cousin) to just put it up anywhere this year."  Strike 2 family.

Every year, my grandmother gives everyone money for Christmas. It always comes to us in bank envelopes with our names on it. Those envelopes are folded and put into small Christmas bags that grandma circle grandma's tree. And after we open our present, she says "Give me back those bags." I have been getting my Christmas present out of that same bag since I started talking. This year, no bags. Grandma just went to her closet and passed out envelopes to everyone. WTF I want my bag grandma.....you just earned this family strike 3.

This year, there were more people around grandmas kitchen table for Christmas Eve lunch than ever before. Did you catch the first change? More people. Cousins brought boyfriends, and sketchy man friend/maybe fiance friends. And uncle brought lady friend/promise ring/girlfriend/possibly wife number 4 to lunch. Second change, Christmas Eve lunch. Lunch I tell you. Have you ever heard of such a thing? A Christmas Eve lunch at Grandmas? Gumbo is good, but not as good when you have it at lunch rather than dinner. New people, that's strike 4 and early food, strike 5.

And we went to the afternoon service at church. We have never gone to the afternoon service at church in my entire life. We have always gone to church at midnight, each and every single year of my existence. Even in my asthma filled, croup having, nearly getting pneumonia life, have we ever skipped church at midnight. But this year, my mother flippantly told me we are going early this year. I really want to call this one strike 6, but I am positive, that if I call out my Lord and Savior, it would be me that got the strike, both literally and spiritually. So, no strike for you Jesus, but I wont forget this one.

And, the nativity scene was moved this year. No giant baby in the nativity scene on the left side of the church this year. Again, I hesitate to give a strike on this one. See above for rational.

Hold on where, are we?
WTF?

Why is everyone monkeying around with our traditions? Why is everything suddenly changing? Why is it this year we decide to unlove everything we have loved about Christmas for decades? Why do we keep calling it Christmas? We should probably change the name to Winter Solstice, lets eat a bunch of food and sit around Day.

To say I have been losing it mentally these past few days would be an understatement. But, I have put on a happy face and kept trucking on.

But, I guess I have to give myself some perspective, because even though those changes are upsetting, I know that the big traditions are still the same.

I know how fortunate I am to still have my grandmother. She is aging quickly, but I still get to go to her home where she has lived since 1950 and eat a Cajun feast with my family. That is the most important thing.

I am also fortunate to have my parents. They open their home to anyone all year, especially during the Christmas season, so I guess I can forgive them for moving the tree and changing church times.

I am blessed with a husband who has allowed us to spend every single Christmas since we have been dating with my family. That's a tradition that I take for granted every year. I know he does it because he loves my family, but I also know he does it because P puts me and my needs before himself everyday.

And, minus one sketchy manfriendpleasedontlookinmydirectionortalktomeorsaymynameandfortheloveofGoddontsitnexttomeguy, those new people were really nice and fun.

I guess the little changes don't matter in the grand scheme of things do they? What matters is that I get to stay up late and hang out with people I love and that love me. I get to celebrate the birth of my Savior. I get to sing, pray, and eat birthday cake for Jesus. I get to come to a home where I feel safe, loved, and be around all the people that mean the most to me in the world. I get to drive around town, and every single turn I make, I am thrust down memory lane, and smile as I drive by the street where my childhood best friend lived.

All in all, its been a good Christmas. Not the best, I mean, with all those strikes how could it be. I would give this a 9.64 on the Christmas rating scale. I was hoping to be WOWED this year and have a Christmas that was off the charts like 2 years ago, the last year when everything was the same. That year was awesome. It was like a 25 or something. Even though I didn't recognize how good I had it at the time, I should have.

Merry Christmas y'all. Go hug your families, eat good food, and don't do anything new. And if you  watch the news and find out about a girl that was struck down by a lightning bolt, that will probably be me.

What are some of your tradition? Anything new this year?

A Good Visit

Last weekend, these good people drove up . That would be Mom and Dad livesimply-livewell. FYI they are awesome. 

 The drove up to help us do this. That would be celebrate our new purchase. And bring us some much needed home items that they wanted to give us.

They brought us a desk, dresser, chest of drawers, lawn mower, weed eater, and edger. Then they spent ALL flippin' day with us on Saturday picking out curtains.

Have any of you ever purchased curtains on a budget before? Its totally frustrating and exhausting. We argued, we talked, we bickered, we purchased, we returned, we purchased some more, we returned some more. O my gosh, by the end of the day you would have thought that I had been shipped off to Nam, because I was so tired.

Thanks momsicle and popsicle for coming all the way up here and for spending the weekend with us! Love you guys!

Look dad, I told you I would put you on the blog. Now you have to figure out how to comment...and mom, don't do it for him.

Momsie

Mom, momsie, momsicle, mom pop,woman,Lisa, lady,

Happy 29th birthday, again. I swear you don't look a day over 36.

It's funny to me that it takes a big day like the day of your birth to be raw, honest, and open enough to tell you how much I love you, because, I don't say or show it enough. I know I was a hard child to birth and raise. You not only busted every blood vessel in your face trying to get me out, but you also probably had some pretty nasty emotional bruising as well from all I put you through. But, for some reason unbeknownst to me, you kept at it and kept loving me even when I didn't deserve your love. You pushed me, challenged me, angered me, and frustrated me. I am absolutely certain you would say "right back at ya" right now if this were a two way conversation.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change for us. I think going away to college was huge. It allowed us to be apart and actually miss each other. It allowed me to really see how much you actually did for me. It is a transition that turned us from mother and daughter to best friends. It turned from you telling me how pretty I looked in my prom dress to me telling you how beautiful you are in the dressing room.It stopped being all about me, finally. I started to see you less as a mom, and more as the woman you are. A women of beauty, class, courage, and conviction. A woman of faith, humbleness, and might. I could say, a woman of gentleness, but I would be lying, because you are the fiercest warrior I know.

You gave up a college education because you had to get a job. You gave up a life of selfishness because you had us. You gave up your own time to make our dreams come true. You gave you gave you gave and were so strong for so long, and you never got a thank you. You stood on the sidelines and in the shadows so that the sun could shine on us.

Thank you for your love and for being the greatest mom I could have asked for, and the exact mom I always needed.

I love you bestie,happy birthday.

 

She lied

I just spent the weekend with my parents, and it was so much fun to see them and spend time with them. But being around my mom made me remember all of the lies she told me as a child.

1. Eating anywhere in the bathroom will give you Heptitis B.
2. When I found out about all the staring children in Africa, I asked my mom every single night to mail any left overs to Africa. She told me she would.
3. Eating chicken will make your boobs bigger.
4. If you don't drink after 6pm you wont pee in the bed.
5. If you keep making ugly faces your face will freeze like that.
6. That she had eyes in the back of her head. I knew she was lying, but somehow she always knew what I was doing.

Despite her many many fibs, she was and is a pretty fabulous mom.
Did you parents ever tell you any lies?

Lessons Learned from a Family Weekend

2 weekends ago, P and I flew down to Houston for my grandfathers 90th birthday. It was a great party, and it was so much fun, but I learned some pretty significant lessons from that weekend.

Scar run deep and old wounds caused by our own blood tend to hurt more and take longer to heal. I saw that in my mother. Her parents divorced when she was a baby, and she and her dad did not get along for many years. They began to repair their relationship about 15 years ago. My mom has worked really hard to repair their broken ties, and now they are in a place of genuine love and respect for each other. However, no matter how far they have come, those old scars still burn. P and I were talking to my mom during the part about her and my grandfather as children, and her eyes welled up with tears talking about those old hurts. There is something about sharing blood that makes those old wounds hurt just a bit more than others. It was a great reminder that words have power, they can tear down or build up, and once they are out, you cannot take them back.

Family tiffs can go on for years. My grandmother died when I was about 13. She was the anchor to my mothers side of the family. She and I were always very close. She spent the last year and a half of her life fighting lung cancer. My family and I came to see her at least 2x a week (she lived about 45 min. away) while she was sick, and the last month of her life, we were at her house every day. I was there in the room when she died. She stopped speaking a few weeks before she passed because of the soars that had grown in her mouth and throat. The morning she died, I was by her bed, and she looked at me and told me I was the sunshine of her life. After that, she fell asleep and never woke up. God, I loved that woman. I loved her for who she was and not what she could give me, because she couldn't give much. After my step-grandfather died, she went to work at Walmart to make ends meet. The most valuable things she owned were 2 small necklaces with 2 tiny diamonds in there. She left those to me in her will. I never knew she had them. The day of her funeral, my uncles wife flipped out when she found out I received those necklaces, and yelled at me in front of everyone. I told her she could have them if she wanted them, and I meant it. Ever since that day, she has removed herself from our family. We have seen her maybe 10 times in the last 15 years. I would gladly give those back to have a better relationship with her. I learned that stuff, no matter how beautiful or precious can never replace relationships
My other aunt, my mom's step sister (my mom is 1 of 7, 5 are still living) moved far way and have never spoke to our family since the funeral. My mom thinks she had always felt like an outsider. I miss her, and I have written to her a few times over the years, but never heard back. I learned that you cannot take family for granted, we all need to feel loved and wanted.
My mom and the others are still really close. They email and talk to each other all the time, which is awesome. Family is such a funny thing. I come from a huge, crazy tribe. The final lesson I learned from my mother in law. After a family reunion on that side of the family, she looked at me and said, "Family is a good hard thing."

That is absolutely true.

Weekend Recap

We had an awesome weekend---how was yours?
Friday night P and I flew home for my grandfathers 90th birthday party. (It is a 6 hour drive and only a 45 min. flight. My parents offered to pay for our plane ticket if we came down, we said Yea!)

We went down to Houston for Papa's birthday, and all of my mom's family was there. She is 1 of 7 kids, 5 of whom are still living, needless to say, we are a huge clan.
After landing on Friday night around 8, we popped over to the house to see the family and say hi to everyone. We drove home to my parents and hit the sack.

I woke up early Saturday and did a slow 5 mile run, then my mom and I hit up Target. She had a ton of coupon match up's and ended saving over 20.00 off her bill. We showered and got ready for the party. We went back over to my grandparents house, then to their favorite resturant and caught up with family members we have not seen in years. It was a blast!
After the party, we went home, changed, and walked 2 miles to my grandmother's house on my dad's side. We hung out there, watched the baseball game, and talked for a few hours with her and my uncle.
Once home, we showered, watched the football game, and I passed out on the couch.
We flew back to the big D on Sunday mid-day and got stuff done. I went to the store, P went and picked up our dog, we did some laundry and cleaned the house.

It was a great weekend full of family time. I wish it was longer, but it was still so good.
How was your weekend?

I'm Her

Looking at yesterday's post, I had a revelation, I am my mother.
A decade ago, this revelation would have made me ill. As I said before, I was a major turd growing up. (A real pain in the a@#.)
As I reread the song that I typed, the song she sang to me, I thought about all the way in which we are similar.

Her Me
-she is a voracious reader-- me too
-she is opinionated-- me too
-she loves Target-- me too
-she underestimates herself-- me too
-she knows every song from the 50's and 60's-- me too
-she laughs really loudly-- me too
-she is stubborn-- me too
-she is cheap, no frugal-- me too
-she thinks she is always right-- me too
-she can hold a grudge-- me too
-she holds a black belt in silent warfare-- me too
-she prefers baking to cooking ---me too
-she shows her love through service --me too

In many ways, after my husband, she is my best friend. She knows me so well and could probably predict how I would respond to most things.
I like to shock her and make her think I am wild child and a bit crazy.
In college when she asked me about my weekend plans, I would respond by saying "I am going to turn tricks on the corner, knock over a liquor store, get really wasted, then get some tatts on my arms."
-She did not think I was funny or charming when I said that.
In other ways we are really different too.
She is a good listener---I am not.
She will let me ramble on about the most assinine stuff without ever interrupting.
She always lets me hang up the phone whenever I get tired of talking without getting mad.
She never says I told you so.
She lets me pick the radio and t.v. stations.
She will eat raw fish at Whole Foods unknowingly because I ask her to try it.

Overall, she is pretty fantastic. She has more strength and courage than she shows or gives herself credit for. She does not recognize her grace or her virtue.

It is from her I learned discipline.
It is because of her that I am who I am today.
It is because of her strength that I have never laid down, and let life beat me.
It is because of her that I am a fighter.

I guess if I had to be like her--well, its not that terrible.

My needs

I had a tough week last week. There were some tough days, some tears, some sadness. In less than a month, we are moving, and I will finally be living in the same town as my husband. Last week was hard. I was missing P a lot, and I knew we were not going to see each other this weekend. I felt really sad and alone all last week, all I wanted was family time. This 6 month work seperation has begun to take its toll on me. I have no idea how military families do it, and I have even more respect for them now, than I ever have.

But, I had the 2nd best thing happen this weekend--my parents came in town. They got here Friday afternoon, and they hung out at the house until I got home, around 11 p.m. I had event Friday night, and it ended really late.

We had a great weekend. We ate good food, celebrated my mom's birthday on Saturday, and mothers day today! We shopped a little, watched movies, played in the river, and ran some errands. Besides P, it was just what the doctor ordered for me. I feel better, refreshed, and ready to go another week until P comes home this weekend.

My Cajun Birthday

My name on P's caller id is Bayou Queen-- because my family is Cajun French, and we come from Louisiana.

My grandma, this sweet little old lady-- speaks broken English in her Cajun accent. Her brother, my great uncle only speaks Cajun. He still lives on the farm in the same house that he grew up in, a small farming community outside of Lafayette, LA. It is so funny to hear my grandma talk to her baby brother in French. They just rattle on and on. I love hearing that sound, and I will miss it when she is gone.
Anywho--I am getting off topic. Yesterday I turned 28--yikes. And P spoiled me on my birthday with a Cajun inspired day. I got a ton of cards, phone calls, and texts, and facebook messages from my friends who are dispersed all over the country. I have been wanting a Who Dat shirt for quite some time, and P got me one! It is awesome--but it does not fit--so we are exchanging it for another one. Then P got me this Jazz Festival painting. There were only 10,000 made that year and P found my favorite one and had it framed for me.

The best part was the small surprise get together that P planned for me. I like parties, but not for me. I feel awkward when I am the center of attention. At 3:30 my bff picked me up and took me to the movies--saw Dear John--it was awesome (book is better by the way) then when we finished I got into the car, and she blind folded me, drove like a maniac all over town to throw me off the track, then took me to my favorite place. She parked opened the door and led me into my house where the Who Dat song was blaring on the speakers, homade hot shrimp and chicken gumbo was simmering on the stove, and the poster was hanging on my wall. Plus, P had a king cake delivered from Louisiana, so we munched on that for desert and it was delish! Then some of my favorite people in the world popped out of hiding and I was surrounded by the people that I love the most. It was so much fun. I felt so special, so loved, and my tank was totally over flowing. The gumbo tasted just like my grandma's, and the scent was still lingering in the air when I woke this morning. It was such a great day, and I am so blessed to have a husband who spoiles me so much. Thank you P for all you did. I love you. Such wonderful memories.

It is frustrating

We are home from vacay!!! It was an absolutely magical trip. I am still processing the trip right now, and will post some pictures and and my thoughts once I have fully unwound. My premature thoughts are that Maine is a beautiful place that encompasses so much of the charm that New England is known for. I met some great people, who were kind, funny, and giving, yet slightly haggard due to living in such harsh weather conditions.

One night on the trip we were all sitting around talking, and someone said something negative about their parents. A few days later, this same person made a wise crack about his brother, who happened to be sitting at the table. I did not say anything, but I was heart broken inside for the person who said it, and for the family members.

My mother-in-law said it best, "Family is a good hard thing." That is so true. Families don't come with a how to guide. We all make mistakes. We all mess up. And yes, some parents are really terrible, but for the most part, they really do try. We all have baggage and we all have hurts from our past but to openly criticize your family in front of others really bugs me.

I don't know if I am just really sensitive right now because of the time of year it, but it really irked me. I love getting to go home and visit my family. And, no matter how long I am there, it never seems like enough time. Whenever I leave, I feel sad because I want to spend more time with these amazing people. People that have loved me for who I am my entire life. People that have seen me at my worst and still love me, even when it is hard.

P and I made an agreement before we got married to never criticize each other in public. Never. Not once. Ever. Yes we fight, yes we have issues, and those things need to be dealt with in private, at home, between the 2 of us. We don't air our problems out in public, and we don't bash each other to friends. We have enough respect for each other to keep our mouths shut until we are able to work it out. I think so much of it boils down to respect. Respect for the people in your life. Respect for what they have gone through. You might not agree with how they live, or what they do, but you can love them. You can be kind.

Thanks for letting me vent.

The most wonderful time

I can't believe that I am laying here in my bed typing on Christmas night. I know everyone feels this way, but where did the time go? Where did this year go? Life seems to be flying by faster and faster the older I get. Especially this time of year. There is so much anticipation and build up for Christmas day, and then it is over. That is why I love how we do Christmas here at my house.
First, I fly home, (a quick 45 minute flight) and spend a few extra days hanging out with my family, while P is working, and he just drives down a few days later. It is so much fun getting to spend more time at home with my parents. We shop, cook, talk, eat. All in all it is great fun. But, the real fun starts on Christmas eve day. One thing that my family does that I did not realize is different from other families until P and I got married is our Christmas Eve dinner. Every year we have Christmas Eve dinner (lunch) at my grandma's house. Every year we eat the exact same meal, shrimp gumbo, and grandma's chocolate cake. My grandmother is Cajun French, and she speaks in broken English. She is this short little French woman, who is funny, sharp, and set in her ways. Her brother, my great uncle, still lives in Louisiana on their family farm. Unlike my grandmother, he is unable to speak English. He only speaks Cajun French. In French, the word for uncle is Frie (I think), but my dad could never say it, so he just called him Uncle Pie, and the name stuck. So all of my life, he has been Uncle Pie. It is so fun to hear my grandmother talk to her baby brother. They just rattle off Cajun to each other and laugh. She still likes to boss him around and tell him what is good for him. My grandmother is 86 and making gumbo has become difficult for her, so the last few years my mom has made it here at our house, and then we drive it over to her house for dinner.
This year, I decided to help my mom make the gumbo. It is pretty easy, just time consuming. Here is the recipe for the roux, which is the base.
1/4 cup of oil
1 and 1/2 cup of flour
1 stalk onions.
You get your oil blazing hot, then add the flour. You stir it continually until it is the color of mud, then you add the onion, then continue to cook until it is almost black. But, you must cook it on a medium heat, because if you burn any part of the roux, it will taste horrible.
Then you add water, and whatever else you want. We have shrimp at Christmas time, but you can add duck, chicken, sausage, and any veggies you like.
The smell of gumbo transports me. It is the ultimate smell of comfort to me because the smell reminds me of my grandmother. Whenever I am missing that woman, all I need is a scent of gumbo to have memories rushing back.
Where was I? Right, after dinner then we open presents with my grandma, and my cousins. We leave grandma's go home, go to church, then wake up Christmas morning. About 5 years ago, we decided that we would not open presents in the morning any more because we would wake up, rush through, and then have to get to work. We have Christmas day meal here at my parents house and my mom always has to rush into the kitchen to get to work, so we wake up, lounge around, then get to cooking.
After dinner, we go out into the back yard and play some lawn games with the family, then it is inside and movie time. After the movie everyone heads home and we clean up the house, shower, turn on the fire, get into our comfy p.j.'s and do Christmas with just us. It is so exciting, because all day long I look at the tree and see the presents and the anticipation just builds and builds and at times it seems like I can't take it any more, but I still have to wait. It is so exciting. P says this is where my inner child comes out. I like to stretch out the surprise. I like holding on to that feeling of excitement for as long as possible. It is the feeling of anticipation and surprise that I love. I get so excited about presents because they mean so much to me. When someone goes out, spends their hard earned money, and spends their time picking something up just for me, it means so much to me. And I want to make it last.
So here I am at almost 11 pm in my bed in my childhood room. My husband to my left with a pillow over his face to block out the light from my lamp, and my dog on the floor to my right, snoring softly and dreaming. My parents are sound asleep in the next room just a few feet away from here. Right now, in this moment, life for me is as close to perfect as it can get. There are a few other family members missing in this equation that could not be here today, but this is my dream come true. I told my mom today, before we opened our presents, that I had so much fun today, that I didn't even need any presents. Good friends, family, and food were more than enough to fill my tank.
I am constantly being reminded that it is not the things in life that make it beautiful and full, it is the people in it. I have blogged about it so many times, but it is so true.
I hope yall all had a wonderful Christmas with your families.