The Fight is Over.

Hunter's Dad & Brother,  1/22/13

Yesterday Hunter's Dad's long battle with cancer 

finally came to an end.

He passed away at home in his bed.

My heart is full of love for this family, 

and full of sadness for their pain and loss.

Sexy Chick

I had an absolute blast today.  Hayleigh, my niece's 3 month old baby (can you believe she is THREE MONTHS OLD already?!?!), wasn't feeling well.  Heather had to work today, and her husband DJ, the new daddy, didn't want to take Hayleigh to the pediatrician by himself.  I had the day off, so my mother and I went with DJ to the doctor's appointment.

Now, my mother is very....proper, I guess you could say.  She is 69 years old and has probably never said the word 'fart' in her life.  There are certain things that, she believes, one should not discuss.  Most of us know this and are pretty good about what watching we say in front of her.

(My Mom & I talking.  Definitely NOT about farting, pooping, or sex.)

DJ, however, loves nothing more than to say things to my Mother just to get a reaction. 

 It infuriates my mom.

It makes me HYSTERICAL.  I literally laughed until I cried my makeup off today.

But the best part of all was this: my mother got a new-to-her cell phone today.  It was used but it's nicer than the one she has.  DJ was setting it up for her and discovered that the previous user had downloaded several ringtones.

Heh. Heh. Heh.  He started playing them and asking my Mom which one she wanted assigned as her ringtone.

I wish I could remember all of the songs that were played.  They were mostly hip-hop.  One of the standouts was "Riding Solo".  I kept picturing my 69 year old gray-haired mom pushing her shopping cart around Walmart and her phone suddenly playing "I'm ridin solo, I'm ridin solo"...can you imagine the reaction of the other shoppers?

But when we heard this song, we knew it was the one.  After I caught my breath again after laughing so hard I almost vomited, DJ and I decided (to my mother's utter mortification) that this was the song that my Mom absolutely HAD to have as her ringtone*.

 

*No, we did NOT actually assign that ringtone, as much as we wanted to.  My mom kept saying "You better not!  I won't use that phone if you do that!"  But oh, how I wish we could have.

Southern Daddies

"Honey, you know a lot about a lot, but you don't know shit about Southern daddies and their Southern daughters." - Straw Dogs

I watched that movie last week, and that one line really struck a chord in me. I've been thinking about it a lot ever since.

My Southern daddy taught me a lot of things.

He taught me some things hands-on.

My daddy taught me how to fish.

He taught me how to shoot a gun.

He taught me how to plant a garden.

He taught me some things by telling me.

He told me that I could be anything I wanted to be.

He told me that it's just as easy to love a rich man as a poor man. (I never did listen.....)

He told me to stand up for myself and not to let people walk all over me.

He taught me some things by his actions.

He taught me to never let a man treat me the way he treated my mama.

He taught me never to work a job that I hate and make my family miserable.

He taught me to not let my depression go undiagnosed & untreated....and make my family miserable.

He taught me to tell people that I love them - and show them - before it's too late and you are brought to your knees by grief and regret.

My Daddy is NOT a redneck. I've never really known how to describe my dad. He was raised on a farm in the country in the South. But he does not fit the redneck stereotype at all. He is always well-dressed and well-groomed. He doesn't drive a big truck or chew tobacco or fly a rebel flag.

Recently, my niece's husband was teasing my dad and calling him a redneck. My dad was not amused.

"I am not a redneck."

"Well what are you then?"

"I am a Southern Gentleman."

Good answer, Daddy.

And your daughter is a Hot Southern Mess.

{This was supposed to have been a scheduled post on Wednesday for PYHO, but obviously, I screwed up. I'm still linking up with Shell - go visit her for wonderful Pour Your Heart Out posts!}

Let me tell you about my kids.

Let me tell you something about my kids.

When I say my kids are awesome....

it does not mean I think they're perfect. It does not mean I turn a blind eye to their mistakes & shortcomings. It simply means I love them anyway. And I focus on the positive.

When I say I am proud of my kids...

it does not mean they never do anything wrong. It means they screw up, but they handle the situation well. They take responsibility and face the consequences.

Life is not about NOT making mistakes - it's how you handle those mistakes. Owning up, and learning from it.

When I say that my kids and I are very close...

it does not mean that I am their friend or that I try to get on their level. It just means that I have worked very hard to keep the lines of communication wide open between myself and my kids. And for the most part, I've done a damned good job of that.

When I say that I have been a good Mom...

it does not mean that I think I have been a perfect mom, that I have not made mistakes. It means that I have done my best, with the best of intentions and a heart full of love.

When I say that I love my kids unconditionally...

that is EXACTLY what I mean. No matter what my kids do, I will always love them with all my heart. I may be hurt, disappointed, or sad, but I'll always love them. I'll always have their backs. I will never turn my back on them.

Visit Things I Can't Say for more Pour Your Heart Out posts.

Who are these people and what have they done with my parents?

Let me tell you a little something about my childhood.

My parents were NOT animal people. I have no idea how I became such an animal lover. My parents were the type who had to be begged and pleaded with in order to get a pet, and then it had to live outside. Now, they did take good care of any pets we did have, but they were NOT members of the family. They were animals.

Once they both retired, I tried to talk them into getting a small dog to keep them company, but they had absolutely no interest in that.

Now. When we moved into our current home, we were not able to bring all of our dogs with us, so Shelbie's chihuahua, Ace, went to live with my parents. I knew they would take good care of him, but I worried that he would not be loved the way Shelbie loved him.

Ha.ha.ha.ha. Oh, the irony.

My parents have fallen in love. Both of them. Ace runs their house. He is the center of their attention. Their entire world revolves around Ace.

My mom has bought Ace clothes, jackets, and most recently, a Snuggie. She enjoys texting me pictures of Ace in his fancy outfits.

Over Thanksgiving, I dog-sat Ace. My mother brought over a reusable shopping bag full of Ace's toys, treats, and food. She brought his bed and his blanket, as well as his food dishes, because apparently he can't go even a few days using regular bowls. Heaven Forbid!

My mom lectured me at length about how to properly care for him, and my dad informed of the times of day that Ace poops. I was told when to give him treats and when to put him to bed.

I am not freaking kidding.

But I think the best thing of all happened today. I received the following text from my mother:

REMINDER: Ace's Birthday is on Sunday!!

They are 100% wrapped around Ace's little paw.

Where I'm From

I am from the Lake Road; from catfish and alligators swimming in the sun.

I am from the dirt road on the outskirts of town; quiet, dusty, and hot.

I am from the boon docks; from magnolias with Spanish moss and wisteria hanging from their branches, blowing in the breeze.

I am from Thanksgiving Family Reunions and stubborn pride; from Cherokees and Pilgrims.

I am from fiery tempers and fierce love.

From "be home before dark"; from bicycles and jars of fireflies.

I am from Southern Baptists and dinner on the grounds; musty-smelling hymnals, hard wooden pews; from Thou Shalt Not and Amazing Grace.

I’m from Florida crackers; from chicken & dumplings, boiled peanuts and banana pudding.

From my father's father with his moonshine still and goats; mama's daddy with his tobacco farm and pigs. From farmers tans and tractors; hard work from dawn till dusk.

I am from reel to reel silent movies; black and white pictures in an album and sepia photos with smiles on demand, all arranged in meticulous order by my Mama after we were grown.

I am from old-fashioned values; from country music and the salt of the Earth.

{Linking up very late to Mama Kat's workshop,

because this exercise truly called out to me.}

Moments

With four kids, it's always hard to find time to be with each individual child.

It's rare that I get a good chunk of time with just one of them, so I have to take small moments, anywhere I can get them.

The other night, my girls went with my niece to choose & order their bridesmaid dresses for her wedding. John and Tim were at work, so this left me and Andrew at home by ourselves. Shortly after they left, he came up to me and just started talking. Right away he mentioned the situation going on with his biological mother (a.k.a. the egg donor). It was obvious that it was weighing heavily on his mind and he needed to talk about it. I listened to him, and reassured him as much as I could. He seemed to feel better, and went off to play the Wii. It was just a short conversation, but those are the times that I have to take when I can get them.

That same night after the girls got home, Elayna was tired and grouchy, but didn't want to go to bed. Andrew was already asleep, and Shelbie had a friend over and they were doing karaoke in another room. Elayna laid down on the couch with her head on my lap, and I slowly ran my fingers through her hair, and stroked her head, until she was so sleepy she could barely stumble into her room. A very brief and simple thing, but a cherished moment.

The next day, Shelbie and I were talking at dinner and realized we needed a few things from the store. I decided that she and I would make a quick trip after dinner, just the two of us. Usually even for quick trips, it's the whole family or at least three kids tagging along. But occasionally, just the Teenager and I get a chance to sneak off on our own, and I love it. We laugh and tease each other. I lock her out of the car and embarrass her. And we talk. Again....a short space of time. But one that I can't take for granted. She is 15 and still wants to be seen with me. She is 15 and still likes to go places with me. She is 15 and will be grown before I know it. I have to grab these moments while I can.

And then there's Tim. Tim will be eighteen next month. He is a senior in high school. And he lives primarily with his Dad; he's with me every other week from Thursday - Monday. He has a job at a burger place. So, time with him is even harder to come by than it is with the other three. One thing that works to my advantage is being a night owl. He works late hours sometimes on the weekends, and I'm always up when he gets home, and often the only one up. We talk about anything and everything, from life in general to crazy things that happened at work. He has always had this gift of asking me questions that I either have to really think about the answer for, or have never thought of myself, or have no idea how to even answer them. He still does that. This kid makes me THINK. And then I throw something back at him that makes him think, or look at something from a different angle. We may not always agree, but we generally respect each others' opinions. We debate. And we make each other laugh. A few late night moments....and we make the most of them.

I hope I'm always able to at least have these little moments, grabbed here and there, with my kids. Where it's just the two of us, and we talk, or we listen, or we don't talk at all. I'll never outgrow it....I hope they don't either.

*Note* I did it! I blogged every day in February for NaBloPoMo! I'm so proud of myself. Don't be concerned if I take a few days off! If we get any news re: Elayna's thumb I'll update on Facebook. She's going to the orthopedic doc tomorrow.

Wonderful Weekend WrapUp!

This weekend was pretty awesome at the Casa De Dysfunction.

Friday night, Elayna spent the night with my parents. And my son drove around in the car we gave him, which was mildly terrifying. Otherwise, it was an uneventful night. ;o)

Saturday was a beautiful day - finally!! We went to an animal rescue event, where we may have found our next family member. More to come on that later in the week! =D
We picked up Elayna, and ran errands. We made a delicious dinner of homemade chicken noodle soup, watched movies, and relaxed. Shelbie's friend stayed the night.

Sunday was the big day. First we went to morning church service. Then we went home for a few hours, had lunch and did a few things around the house. Tim had to work, but fortunately got off at 4pm; just in time to head to church for the baptisms! John, Shelbie, and Elayna were baptized in a very touching ceremony. Our wonderful pastor chose specific bible verses for each person who was baptized today (my three plus 2 teenage boys). My parents attended, along with my sister, niece & her fiance, John's mother & grandmother, and the kids' dad, step-mother, and baby sister. I was so proud of John & the girls, and I am feeling incredibly blessed right now! :o)
After the baptisms, we went home to watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. The crowd shots were incredibly fast, but John and I saw ourselves several times, and the kids once. I think the Wagstaff's house is beautiful, and it was really exciting to watch!

Here are a few pictures from the Baptism Ceremony.

Our pastor...

John & his mother....

Shelbie & Me (please ignore my crazy hair)

John & Me

Elayna with her bible

The End!

If you posted about your weekend, mentioned your weekend, heck, if you even HAD a weekend - link up here! :P~

One of the Closest Families I Know.

When I was a freshman in high school, I met a new friend. Her name is Sandy. We immediately clicked and became very close friends.
When I spent the night with her, I was introduced to a different world.
Her family was so much fun. All of the kids in the neighborhood hung out at their house. It's not because they let the kids get away with anything. They just had fun. We watched movies, had parties, listened to music, they took us to the beach. (I lived in Florida all of my life and hardly ever went to the beach!)
Their house was a mess. They had 2 big dogs and who knows how many cats. The laundry piled up. The dishes piled up. Nobody seemed to notice.
Except my mom. My mom was kind of mortified by them.
I remember Sandy's Dad walking around the house, singing all the time and drinking a beer. He wasn't a drunk, but he enjoyed a few beers on the weekend. I still always think of him when I hear "Saturday, in the park, think it was the fourth of July..."
Sandy has three sisters, and those girls could talk to their mom about anything. It's not that she never got mad...oh, boy, did they get mad...but there was just an openness that I so envied.
They loved passionately and they got angry passionately. Sandy was the huggiest person I knew! She hugged everyone, all the time.
I remember once, Sandy's mom caught us sneaking our boyfriends up to Sandy's room. We weren't up to anything terribly bad, just a little smooching and giggling and kid stuff. But her mom was pissed! And I remember Sandy asked her Mom if she was going to tell my mother. And Sandy's mom said, "No, but if she has any kind of relationship with her mother, she'll tell her herself."
I didn't tell my mother.
Sandy and I have been in and out of touch since high school. I looked her up and called her when I read in the paper that her father had died.
She told me all about it, and she had me sobbing on the phone. Those girls adored their father.
And still to this day, all four girls are so close to their mother.
Were they perfect parents? Nope. Did they do everything right? I doubt it.
But the love in that family is almost a tangible thing. You can feel it when you're around them. They are unbelievably close, all of them. They practically worship their mother, and their dad's memory.
That's the kind of family I want to have. That's the kind of parent I want to be.
Sandy's parents knew what was important. It wasn't having a sparkling house and manicured lawn. It wasn't holding back your feelings so as not to rock the boat. It wasn't what the neighbors think of you.
It was yelling and hugging and spending time together as a family having FUN. It was talking about anything and everything. It was something I can't even put a name to; it was a feeling. I only hope that I can replicate it with my family.
Sandy's mom can look at her grown, successful girls now, and how much they absolutely adore her, and know without a doubt that she did something right.
And truly, in the end, what could be more important?