Somebody call 911!

This week, Mama Kat asked this question:

1.) Did you create a list of 22 things you’ve done in your life last week? This week, choose one item from your list and elaborate! We want the story.

Most of the things on my list, I've already blogged about, because I'm a bit of a blabbermouth I guess. But I don't think I've told this story:

17. I have traveled to the hospital via ambulance after a serious injury.

(I just love that graphic.)

Anyway. Picture it: Florida, 1980-something. Actually I guess it was 1984, because I was 11. No, don't do the math.

An older couple lived next door to my family, and they had a granddaughter who was about my age. She visited often and we were very good friends. Any time Michelle was visiting, we were together.

So on this hot summer day, we'd been together all day long, running back and forth between the houses. Michelle's grandparents had left their glass slider door open all day to let the breeze in, and we'd ran in and out of it dozens of times. That afternoon, we decided we wanted to spend the night together, and we had to ask my parents if it was okay. We got up and ran out the back slider door. Only this time, it was closed. And I smashed right into it. Through it may be a better term, actually. I smashed it open with my right leg. I didn't feel any pain (we later learned that was because I sliced a nerve). I remember first lifting up both of my arms and seeing nothing, not even a scratch. Then I lifted my right leg and saw a huge open gash. And I screamed. One of those horrific, blood-curdling screams.

My parents heard me, and came running over. Michelle was helping me to the couch in her grandparents' living room, and her Grandma was running to get towels. There was blood everywhere. It was like CSI Gainesville, Florida.

My dad grabbed the phone to call 911, but first he dialed 411. I calmly corrected him.

Then he gave them the wrong address. I calmly corrected him.

I didn't technically go into shock, but I was bizarrely calm. They wrapped my legs in the towels and I told my parents that I was sorry, since they had told me a million times not to run in the house. I also apologized to the neighbors for getting blood all over their couch and carpet. Hey, I'm a Southern Lady; I am polite in all circumstances. (bahaha, I couldn't even type that with a straight face!)

So, the ambulance came and whisked me to the hospital. I only vaguely remember the actual ride; there's not much to see when you're strapped to a stretcher. The lacerations (there were several more than the one I initially saw) were so serious that I needed surgery. They said I was very lucky, the cuts were extremely close to major arteries. The damage could have been much worse, and I could have bled to death. (I'd be happy to go into more detail here, but I'm sure some of you aren't interested in exactly what I saw when I first lifted my leg....heh heh.)

I was in the hospital for about a week. I had to do Physical Therapy and the whole 9 yards. I was on crutches for weeks. It happened during the summer, so I didn't get out of school, or PE, or anything. What a rip-off!

When I got home, Michelle was glued to my side at all times. I think she almost felt guilty that it happened, that she didn't protect me or something. I think she was pretty traumatized. Besides my Mom, she was my primary caretaker. She got me anything I needed, helped me to the bathroom, and made sure I did my exercises. She was only about 10 years old!

And I healed, and life went on. When I first went back to school, I was very self-conscious of the scars, and wouldn't wear shorts for a long time. But I got tired of being hot, it is Florida after all, and I got over my insecurity. I figured if they didn't like it, they didn't have to look at it.

The scars have faded but are still very visible, and I rarely think about them. But I DO yell at my kids when they run in the house, and then force them to sit and listen as I retell this story.

Oh, MY, What HAVE I Done??

Last week, I listed 22 things I have NEVER done.
This week, it's time to spin it around and list 22 things I HAVE done.

This should, theoretically, be easier; however, I'm going to try to keep it clean & family friendly, so maybe notsomuch. Heh.

1. I have gotten three tattoos. I love all three of them and want more.

2. I have gotten 3 piercings besides my ears (nose, belly button, and labret). They have all closed up but I'm ready for more (nose again, and I'm thinking about a Monroe).

3. I have cruised to the Bahamas.

4. I have learned what true love was, when my firstborn child was placed in my arms.

5. I have met Tim Tebow. And got his autograph, pics, and shook his hand. HE TOUCHED ME, people. *Swoon* I heart him.

{I tried SO hard to find a pic of him wearing a shirt, but I just couldn't do it. I got...distracted.}

6. I've flown on an airplane, ridden a train, a charter bus, sailed on a ship....guess I should ride in a helicopter next.

7. I have had surgeries....several of them. Appendectomy, three cesareans, gastric bypass......

8. I have sang karaoke, but it took me until I was 38 years old and had a few drinks to do it. And ya know what? I pretty much rocked it. Booyah!

9. I have gotten a divorce.

10. I have helped to prepare deceased people for the morgue (placing toe tags, putting them in body bags, etc.).

11. I have seen a woman react to the sudden death of her child. It was the most heartbreaking, epic meltdown I have ever seen. Her husband had to carry her out of the Pediatric ICU, cradled in his arms like a baby. I will never forget watching that.

12. I have received a terrifying phone call: "the results of your son's MRI are in, and the pediatrician would like to speak to you in person". (followed by: your son has

Chiari Malformation and needs brain surgery.)

13. I have received the most fanastically wonderful phone call of all time: when the nurse called me immediately after my son's brain surgery to let me know all was well, and then PUT MY SON ON THE PHONE. Incredible.

13. I have met bloggy friends, which was so much fun and I hope to do a lot more of that.

14. I have fallen in love.

15. I have fallen out of love.

16. I have learned that I am so much stronger than I ever realized.

17. I have traveled to the hospital via ambulance after a serious injury.

18. I have learned my strengths, my weaknesses, my passions.

19. I have swam in the ocean, river, springs, lakes, creeks, just about every body of water you can think of.

20. I have owned a cow, goats, and chickens, as well as many other pet animals. I bottle-fed the cow; he'd been abandoned by his mama.

21. I have been in the crowd during an Extreme Makeover: Home Edition filming, watching the building & the big reveal, and met several of the celebs on the show.

22. I have started a blog and maintained it for over 4 years; in fact, my 4th bloggiversary blew right by me in September. I love blogging and hope to keep it up for a long time to come.

Linking up with Mama Kat!

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.}

Remind Me......

This is a fictional story inspired by Mama Kat's Prompt:
1.) Write a short story prompted by your favorite song. (inspired by Melissa from Rock And Drool).

{scroll down & click play to listen to the song while you read.}

The phone is wedged between her shoulder and her ear, as she pulls laundry out of the dryer.

"I just want more, Michelle. More passion, more kisses, more affection, more attention."

"Don't we all?" replies Michelle, her best friend of many years. "Listen Stacy, after a few years of marriage, it just fades away."
"Well, it shouldn't. I feel like all I do is cook and clean and taxi kids. I'm the kids' mom and Scott's wife, but when do I get to be a woman?"

"Why don't you come out with me and the girls this weekend? We'll have a few drinks and just have a good time. You need a break!"

Stacy sighed. "I don't know....maybe."

When the weekend rolled around, Stacy made a decision. She was going to do it. She was going to go out with the girls, and have fun, and see what happened. She was tired of living this boring soccer mom life.

She squeezed into her cutest jeans and put on her lowest-cut top. She met her friends at a bar, and the more Stacy drank, the better she felt. She sang, danced and laughed with Michelle and the girls. She felt sexy. And she got attention....a lot of it. And she liked it.

And then, she saw a man walk in who immediately caught her eye. He made his way over to her, and he started talking to her. He bought her drinks. He told her she was beautiful. They laughed together. As the night progressed, she realized she felt better than she had felt in a long, long time.

They left the bar and sat in her car, and talked......and kissed. And she said to him, "This is exactly what I needed. I needed to feel wanted, and attractive. And Scott....we have got to do this more often."

{inspired by one of my favorite songs......}

Sanity - Just a Phone Call Away

Linking Up with the Lovely MamaKat's Pretty Much World Famous Writer's Workshop....

2.) Who is the last person you spoke with on the phone for more than 30 minutes? Write about one thing you talked about.

I have known my best friend, Danielle, for over 23 years. So, since we were teenagers babies.

When our kids were little and we were stay at home moms, we talked on the phone every day, often for hours. But as we both went back to work and things changed, sometimes our lives get busy and we go weeks without talking (although since Facebook took over the world, we do talk pretty frequently now).

But when I am at the end of my rope, losing my mind, needing to grasp onto something to save me...I call Danielle. Anytime something big happens in my life, good or bad, she is the one I HAVE to share it with. She is more than a friend, she is my soul sister.

So this Sunday evening, when I felt like I was nearing my breaking point, I called Danielle.

"Danielle, I'm losing my flippin' mind over here. I am so stressed. John has to go to court about Andrew's bio-mom's visitations next week. My parents unexpectedly came over today. My client's daughter just called and her condition is badly deteriorating; she isn't expected to live much longer. I'm feeling totally overwhelmed and smothered here at home. We only have one car and I feel like I do nothing but taxi people around all day. I need a break!"

Not only did she talk me down off of the ledge, but she went a big step further. Her aunt has a condo on the beach, and she is kidnapping me next week and taking me to the condo. My kids will be at their dad's house, and I am running away. Danielle is going through a lot right now too, and needs a break as much as I do.

Danielle is awesome. She never judges, she is always supportive, and always honest. And she always has my back. And I know she's always there when I need her....just a phone call away.

So on Friday, we'll go have our Karaoke night, and then, we're off. If you need me, I'll be sitting on the beach, with a drink in each my hand.

P.S. If you'd like to guest blog next week, let me know!

The Simple Things....

I am a simple girl.

And although I will admit that there are some simple things that really irritate me....

like ridiculously long lines at the store,

or SLOOOOW drivers in the fast lane........

There are so many simple things that make me very happy.

Like those times when my whole family (me, John & the kids) are sitting around, talking and laughing our butts off. Sometimes I stop in the middle of it all and tear up, because it's so simple, so sweet.

Like the close friendship that my daughter Shelbie has with my best friend's daughter. They are best friends too, and even if they don't talk for a while, they pick right back up. They love each other dearly. And I LOVE that.

Like a great song on the radio.

Like a GOOD sleep. Which, now that I'm working more hours, is much harder to obtain.

Like eating the vegetables that we grew in our garden.

Like banana Fanta Icees.

Like when my husband and I say exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. And then crack up.

Like a really good book.

Like when my kids' friends call me their 'other mom'.

There is no fancy thing in the world that can bring me as much joy as the simple things.

Linking up with Mama Kat for her Writer's Workshop.

Never Let 'Em See Ya Bawl Like a Baby

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this here before, but years ago, I worked for our county's tag agency. More commonly known around the USA as the dreaded DMV.

Working there was very hard for me. I felt like I was always the bearer of bad news. Very few people go to the DMV in a happy mood. The lines make them even grouchier. Then, I get to tell them that they don't have all of their paperwork, or that their registration fees were much higher than they expected. For the most part people took it as well as could be expected, but others completely lost their everloving minds. I literally received death threats on more than one occasion working there. We were called every name in the book. A woman once told me I was taking food out of her child's mouth. I was very young when I worked there; I started there when I was 17 working after school, and left there when I was 22. It changed my personality, and showed me a side of humanity that I was not fond of.

But for the most part, I handled it all pretty well. I tried my best to be nice to people, even when they were at their worst.

And then....I got pregnant. And hormonal. And slightly evil. I developed a habit of snapping right back at the people who were cursing me out. I lost my patience for explaining things 800 times. It was harder to tolerate the constant ranting and raving.

One of the things that enraged people the most were the fees that the state of Florida charged to people who moved here from another state. All total, the fees to get your car registered here were just under $500. (The bulk of this has since been ruled unconstitutional and the state had to reimburse all of it.) So one day, as I was explaining to a customer how much he would have to pay to get his car registered, he began to curse at me and tell me how stupid I was. And to my horror, instead of letting it roll off my back, instead of making a smart remark....I began to cry. Openly. The girl who sat beside me heard what was going on and raced to my rescue. I had to go into the break room and compose myself.

I was mortified! I had never let any customer make me cry before, and it never happened again. I know it was pregnancy hormones, but I was so embarassed. You know how they say "Never let them see you sweat?" Well I never wanted them to see me CRY! Between that and a sudden bout of nausea causing me to puke in the trash can by my desk....there was never a dull moment!

Visit Mama Kat for more Workshop posts!

Not My Mother's Daughter

When I opened up my email and read Mama Kat's Writing Prompts for this week, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd be participating. Prompt Number 2 jumped right out and stuck its tongue out at me. In fact, I think Mama Kat has been wandering around in my brain recently and stumbled upon that prompt, because it's been floating around there for quite some time now. I just haven't been able to make myself sit down and write it. But Mama Kat pulled it out, sat me down, and told me to get crackalacking.

So here I go.

2.) Not your mother's daughter...how do you parent differently than your mother did? Is it a good thing or a bad thing?

I love my parents. My relationship with them is complicated. But I love them, and I know they love me. And as I have become a parent, and grown as a parent, I have experienced many different feelings towards their parenting. For the most part, I have made my peace with it and accepted that everything they did, they did the best way they knew how, and they did it out of love. They truly did want the best for their kids.

But their methods weren't always the best. And the one that I think impacted me the most, the one that I was so determined to do differently with my kids, is about communication.

{I don't mean not yelling. Puh-lease! They only listen when I yell!}
No, it goes a lot deeper than that.

When I was a teenager, I couldn't talk to my parents about anything. I deeply felt the generation gap. They just weren't the type of parents that sat down with me after school and listened to me talk about my day. My mom knew who some of my friends were, but not who was dating who or which friend was mad at the other one. But more than that, I couldn't come to them with the big things. When I was scared, worried, or heartbroken, talking to my parents was the last thing I thought of doing. They expected me to do exactly what they wanted me to do without question, and if I didn't, they flipped out. My teenage years were full of secrets and lies. They were so strict and kept me on such a tight leash, that I sometimes lied about where I was going, because I knew they wouldn't let me otherwise. Not even when it was a reasonable request and of course, all of my other friends' parents let them do it.

This inability to confide in my parents, this lack of communication, did more than strain our relationship, though. It caused me tremendous pain, and nearly cost me my life. There were several times when, as a teenager, I found myself in difficult situations. Nothing that many other teens haven't experienced in the past, and will experience for the rest of time. But I could not talk to my parents about these things. I simply, absolutely, could not. And several times, I felt like my only options were to run away from home, or to kill myself. This was not the dramatic rantings of a hormonal teenager; this was the absolute terror of a teenager who felt like she had no way out of an impossible situation.

In the end, I was able to keep my secrets. There are so many things that happened to me that my parents know nothing about, and probably never will. It was hard to go through, but one thing came out of that experience: I vowed to never let that happen with my own children.

I feel like, if my kids ever feel the way I felt, it would be one of the worst parenting failures for me. I want to be the one they come to. Even though they know there will be consequences. Even though they know I may be upset. But they need to know I am there for them. My love is unconditional. I will support them and accept them. I will stand by them. I hope, and I pray, that they never, ever feel backed into a corner with no way out, they way I did. It's very hard to find a balance; I don't believe in being overly permissive. I want to keep them safe. I don't want to be their friend. It's not about being 'the cool mom'. It goes so much deeper than that.

So far, my kids are very open with me. I know they don't tell me everything, and I don't expect them to. I just want them to know that they CAN come to me, without fear of overreaction or judgement.

Do I always go about this the right way? Probably not. I don't have to tell you that parenting is tough and there is no instruction book. I have made mistakes in the past and I will make plenty more in the future. But I go about it with nothing but pure love for my children, and the deep desire for them to know that they can talk to me, especially about the important things. And the need for them to know that I will always have their back.

And that's a good thing.

~Visit Mama Kat for more Writer's Workshop Posts~

A Phone Call I Won't Forget

Many of you know the back story with my stepson, Andrew.

His biological mother has never been a stable presence in his life.

Then, she basically disappeared for about a year and a half. We didn't know where she was or how to contact her.

Andrew was adamant that he did not want to see or speak to her.

(there is a whole lot more to this story, but for many reasons, I'm not going to post it all here.)

Anyway, at the end of last year, we started getting letters from an attorney representing Bio Mom (a.k.a. BM). They demanded that we bring Andrew to BM for a weekend visitation. This, after him not seeing her or talking to her for nearly two years. Clearly, we did not jump at the chance to do that, as neither we nor Andrew's psychiatrist felt that it was in Andrew's best interest.

So, we now have an attorney representing us. We've had a few meetings, and then today was the Preliminary Hearing in front of a judge. It was a one-hour hearing in the judge's chambers. Her attorney requested this; it was to be a first step towards her officially getting visitation set up (and we were trying to keep that from happening). Both BM and John were required to attend. The lawyer said that I would not be able to go back to the judge's chambers, so I stayed home with the kids. As the time for the hearing to end neared, I was on pins and needles waiting.

And then, I got the phone call.

I ran outside and John said, "Are you ready for this?"
And I said "Yeah, yeah, TELL ME!"

And he said........"BM did not show up."

That's right. For months she has pushed this issue. Blamed us for her lack of involvement in her son's life. All she wanted was a relationship with her son. Etc............

And she couldn't even be bothered to show up.

Her attorney had been calling her all day. No answer. None of us have any idea where she is or why she didn't come.

But needless to say, that doesn't exactly help her case.

And that is most definitely one phone call I will NOT soon forget!

{Joining in with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop ~ A Phone Call I Won't Forget}

Hello, World

I'm joining Mama Kat's Pretty Much World Famous Writer's Workshop again this week. The prompt I chose for today is:

5.) A song with significance.

This is a relatively new song from Lady Antebellum. It's the type of song that can be interpreted in more than one way. But it really speaks to me, because it reminds me of the feeling of coming out of a dark depression, and recognizing the beauty all around us. It's always there, but depression can rob you of the ability to see it, and appreciate it.

Traffic crawls, cell phone calls
Talk radio screams at me, through my tinted window I see
A little girl, rust red minivan, she’s got chocolate on her face
Got little hands and she waves at me
Yeah, she smiles at me

Well, hello world
How you been
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel cold as steel
Broken like I’m never gonna heal
And I see a light, a little hope in a little girl
Hello world

Every day I drive by a little white church
It’s got these little white crosses
Like angels in the yard
Maybe I should stop on in, say a prayer
Maybe talk to God like he is there
Oh, I know he’s there
Yeah, I know he’s there

Well hello world
How you been
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I’m never gonna heal
And I see a light, a little grace, a little faith unfurls
Well hello world

Sometimes I forget what living’s for
And I hear my life through my front door
And I breathe it in
Oh, I’m home again
And I see my wife
Little boy and little girl
Hello world
Hello world

Well the empty disappears
I remember why I’m here
Just surrender and believe
I fall down on my knees
Well hello world
Hello world
Hello world

Watch on YouTube

This Time Last Year

When I looked back at what I was blogging about this time last year, I realized that it's a lot of the same stuff that's going on this year.

We were fundraising & preparing for the March for Babies.

We were preparing for sports season to start (although last year it was softball).

We were getting ready to celebrate the many March birthdays in our family.

We were preparing to move.

All the same stuff as this year.

Yep, we are moving. Again.

Since John and I met & married, we have moved several times. The first three moves were happy occasions; we moved from a crappy place to a nice place; from that nice place to a tiny but decent place in the town we wanted to be in; and from there to a great house that we absolutely LOVED in that same town.

That's when things got difficult. That house started literally falling apart, and to make a long story short, the owner wouldn't fix anything, and we found out that the house was in foreclosure. She was unemployed and using our rent payments to live on; the mortgage wasn't being paid.

So from there we moved into the first house we found that worked for us, in the same neighborhood. It was fine. It was a nice house, but overpriced. But the owner really wanted to sell, and we were not (and still are not) in the position to buy. He actually told us shortly before we moved to keep the house ready to show at all times, in case he stopped by with a potential buyer. I have four kids and multiple pets; that's just not happening. (we later found out that they let the house go into foreclosure after we moved out.) So we kept our eyes out and after about a year in that house, found the house that we're in now.

This house was great. Same rent as we were paying for the house we were in, but so much better. It was perfect for our family. We were determined that this would be our home until the youngest children graduated high school, at the very least.

But unfortunately, when you rent, you don't call all the shots. Once again, the homeowners have decided to sell (or at least, try). When our lease ends, we have to move. Again.

Always before, I looked at the bright side. I told myself and the kids, 'Home is where your family is'. I could always make the best of it.

Not this time. Not last week, at least. This time, it just hit me hard. I just wanted to give up. I wallowed in the unfairness of it all. I regretted so many past decisions and mistakes.

I have since come around, though, I am proud to say. I've dealt with the sadness and the loss. I've reminded myself of how much we have, that nobody can take from us. I've reminded myself of what we have to be thankful for.

And I'm looking at the bright side, and there is definitely a bright side. Financially, we will be better off because we are looking at houses that fit our budget, which drastically changed now that I'm not working. The realtor who rents this house to us has several other homes available in the area that are more in our price range. We will be much more comfortable financially, so that when I do start working again I can easily work part time. This is so much better for our family.

Also topping the list of pros about moving? The internet & cell phone service at the place we're most likely moving to is EXCELLENT. Where we live now, the service is barely existent. And clearly, I have my priorities, people.

And....this new place? Is cool. Very cool. But I'll post more about that later.

And the kids took the news just fine. They're even excited about it.

The thing is, the thing I finally remembered, is that we will be okay. No matter how many times we have to move, we will be okay. We have each other and we are really a happy, resilient bunch. We roll with the punches. I try to use these things as lessons for our children; make better choices so that you can buy your home, and don't have to be at the mercy of homeowners and landlords.

But really. We are all healthy. Our kids are doing very well in school. John has a job & excellent health insurance for all of us. We have our family, friends, and church family. There are far worse things that can happen, than to have to move from one comfortable home to another comfortable home, with your loving, dysfunctional family. Because home really is where your fun, dysfunctional family is!

But I really hope that this time next year, I am NOT blogging about moving. Again.

{Linking up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.}