Shut it Gwenyth Paltrow

To all us moms out there just trying to get through these times, YOU ARE NOT ALONE!  I see your Tik Toks, your FB pics, your cries and pleas for normalcy.  I hear you sisters.  Literally, I can hear you in my house from down the street!  We're going to make it.  We have to believe.  I think if there's one thing we can all agree on after being trapped in the house with these monsters we created drunk on Boones Farm and bad decisions is that we should all send them back to school with gift cards to liquor stores and Kay Jewelers for their teachers!  Teachers are the real heroes.  I would sell my vintage LV handbag for the freedom that school brings me everyday.  Whatever bonus or sick day or pay raise these people want they get it.   No questions asked, just take all my taxes and write them a check.   Here at our home front my breaking point came this morning when we had to draw an elapsed timed sun dial out of a stack of legos 6" high in the shape of the Statue of Liberty and do 1 online Science game.  It ended with one kid crying and me yelling at the top of my lungs...."I CANT ANSWER YOUR DAMN QUESTION IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME THE FREAKING CHOICES?  DO I LOOK LIKE THE ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANICA?  I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BIOME WE LIVE IN.  HELL?  IS HELL AND OPTION BECAUSE WE'RE ALL IN HELL RIGHT NOW!!!!"  There was crying on all counts.  And apparently I live in the Decidious Forest biome for all you other 5th grade science moms.  I have friends who have really taken on this homeschool thing.  It's turned into the daily postings of the dining room turned school room.  There are all these fancy charts they stayed up into the wee hours sipping wine and Pinteresting to get the perfect academic collage of stickers and drawings on.  They have school, chore and extra curricular calendars posted.  Everything is precise.  That's so cute, Gwen.   That was 2 weeks ago. 

Now all those moms aren't posting anything anymore.  Nada.  No pics of the kids smiling at the table.  No pics of the perfect family dinner at the table prepared by mama's little helpers.  You know why???  Because all those houses fell to shambles.  Those kids after day 3 revolted.  They're holding those parents hostage by their own crafting shears.  The cries you hear are those parents locked in their bedrooms begging for someone to swoop in and start beating some ass.   Im still holding strong though.  Probably because I snuck away.  I crept out like a thief in the night in the rouse of going to get groceries.  When really I went to Target and stood in the candy aisle trying to see as far as I could all the new Target Spring Collection of tees and loungewear.  I didn't want it to be obvious that I was risking life to see tie dyed joggers.  But at some point you have to flee in order not to kill your young.  I love my daughter but she stands over my shoulder and breathes on me to watch me watching Tik Tok videos.  Then she'll grab my phone out of my hands to tell me Im doing the scrolling wrong.  How do you scroll wrong.  Then around 7:00 pm every evening she gets her second wind.  And its like someone turned my living room into Monday Night Raw.  Its sooooo loud!!!  There is a lot of leaping and interpretive dance.  There is also a lot of girl emotions.  A LOT!!  Im dealing with a pre-tween who lives in her feels.  There's crying.  LOTS of crying and attitude.  Im not even ashamed to say I sent this text to her dad living his best life in quarantine all by himself, with his own thoughts.  I hate him today too.

I've completely 100% lost track on how long we've actually been confined home.  It seems like at least 87 days?  Gotta be close.  I tried to have a routine while we're in these difficult times.   The 10 minutes of online school work and the 30 minutes of chores doesn't keep her occupied long enough for a break.  The weather has started to get nicer so we can go and take periodic breaks and walk to the mailbox or take the dog for a walk.   And then boredom sets in.  I know in my heart of hearts its only a matter of time before she realizes how to steal my credit card and start making Amazon online purchases.   And from the looks of the porches in my neighborhood, she wont be the only one who stole daddy's credit card.  I can tell you who's not hurting in the business world these days....buy stock in Amazon and chewy!!

I have no idea how much longer we're gonna be on lockdown with these little people or for some of you, husbands too.  All I can say is this, we will come out survivors, 40lbs heavier, and ready to boost the economy again.  If you see me somewhere eating white queso from the bowl, leave me be, Im living my best life at that exact moment and live in a judgment free zone!  Take a minute to be blessed that we get these times with our tiny humans before they grow up and realize they are so much cooler than we are.  And if you find yourself in times of trouble, detention is best served in the garage changing oil and rotating tires!  God Speed to us All!

It's A New Day

I've decided to come out of hiatus.   Being at home for 9 straight days with no end in sight has given me some new perspective along with about 3 years of growth and soul searching.  When we arrived in North Country it began as a new start for all us.  I wasn't quite sure how to do this.  My whole life had been turned upside down from the past 18 months prior.  We went from 2 major cross country moves within 9 months to, basically, losing a member of our family.  It was way darker than just the weather.  Thankfully, I had a few months to get acclimated to the new area before Big Chief headed out to the land of the Winter Olympics in Seoul that year.    But it sure didn't make life any easier.  The house was quieter.  Baby Girl was quieter, but that changed, believe me when I say, everyone in North Country knows she's here.   Things were just sadder.  I didn't know how to live here and be happy.  In all this beauty I had really lost everything.

I just started going through the motions and getting through each day.  I stopped working in law because after the whole experience the previous months and years, I couldn't go back.  It was too painful and quite frankly, I lost my will to enjoy it.  It wasn't fun anymore and I found myself crying in the bathroom at work and wondering why I was here?  I didn't have the fight to keep going in a world I had loved so much and taught others to love.  It drained me.  But I knew I couldn't sit at home, even that would have broken me more.  So, I went to work at the school.  Something part time until something better opened up.  But nothing seems to open up here but even more shocking, I fell in love.  Which is very odd considering I hate kids.  I love my own, but lets be real, i hate yours.  They're dirty and stinky and they like to hug.  A lot.  I don't hug.  And the first few weeks were hard.  And even Big Chief was surprised I kept going back.  But I saw these cute little faces and they hugged me and I hugged back one day.  When I started going to the middle school and high school more I started to realize that all the boys, reminded me of mine.  Then I found out, I still cried at work.  I'd sit and watch and wonder if thats what my boy did at school?  Did he tell the same jokes and walk down the hall with the slouched shoulders too?  Boy do I miss him.  But somehow being with those kids kinda made me feel close to him.   So maybe the school gig wasn't so bad?  3 years later, still showing up.  I can't really imagine doing anything else right now.

But even with the school gig something still wasn't right.  I was still angry and sad.  I lashed out a lot.  Im pretty sure everyone was walking around on eggshells around me.  It got to the point that Big Chief wanted me talking to someone, my friends wanted me talking to someone, hell I think even the dog barked out one day...PROZAC!!!  I was talking to my friends and family so why did I need to talk to a complete stranger who doesn't know me or what's happened?  It wasn't until I was standing in the kitchen one day crying not catching my breath realizing something was really wrong and I made the phone call.  I showed up to this lady's office, which by the way, nothing makes you feel more secure and comforted like walking through an abandoned post office to a dark office with furniture from 1977.   Giving this guy who reeks of Jim Beam my social security seems perfectly legit.   But I met with her in a dim lighted partitioned room with the hint of some sort of essential oil?  Whatever relaxes you before they kidnap and sell you to the "trade".    She was very soft spoken and asked me some basic questions.  She asked me why I was there and the first thing I said was "Because my husband and my best friends told me I have an anger issue and depression and I needed to talk to someone before I rob a liquor store or cut my baby daddy".   And then I cried.  For 45 minutes I sat and cried.  There was no conversation.  There were no more questions.  It was just me and a smelly basement rug and crying. Had to be those damn oils.  Now I had no intentions of ever going back before I ever walked in.  I was checking the block.  But when I grabbed my purse she asked me about my next appointment and I just silently took the card and left.   I showed up 10 days later.  Went to the same room and cried again.  What the hell is in those oils??  We did talk this time and she encouraged me to return.  So I did.  I kept going.  And I kept crying.  Big Chief was even allowed to go, but I was still angry so it was mostly me still crying and yelling at him for being there breathing and speaking.  I think I even said the words...Look at him just sitting there breathing on my time!!!  Clearly I had a lot to work through.  They also make you take these tests to see what kind of "love language" you and your mate are, to see where the communication and breakdown might be.  Naturally he was the hugger and affections and I was the doer and material objects.   Didn't really need 45 minutes and a $100 to tell us that one.  Needless to say, we continued to talk through it.  The drives home after were always awkward.  What do you say to the person who you love the most in this world after you've told the stranger that the mere sight of him walking in the house and being chipper all the damn time makes me want to set his harley on fire and dance the dance of my hill people in the driveway.   Saying I still love you just seems inappropriate.  But every 10 days he'd ask, are we still going, I want to go if you do.  So I would go. 

I think I started noticing things again without even realizing.  I was smiling.  One day I was just happy again.  Not thrilled by any means, but I woke up and actually wanted to get dressed and do my hair and peruse my favorite style bloggers.   One day I stopped dreading Big Chief coming home.   That was a painful realization.  I had resented him.  He was happy and I wasn't.  Then I started noticing Baby Girl.  Holy cow, she's beautiful and graceful and full of talent and she's here and present and is amazing.  I had been unfair and unkind to her.  Any mention of her brother and I would get angry and walk off or say horrible things and shut it down.  One particular song comes on the radio that he liked and I'm instantly immensely sad.   I was mourning him and had no idea.   But why would I mourn him when he's very much alive.  Teenage boys are hard.  They're even harder when they're so far away and have their own ideas, be their own or whats been put in their heads.  But he isn't here and he is very absent from our lives.  It was if I was mourning him.  I can not imagine  what its like to lose a child forever.  But this pain I have in my heart has to be really close.  But I acknowledged I was mourning him.  So, I started going through the stages.  Grieving.  Still going through that one.  Pretty sure Im still going through all of them.  But I've learned you have to feel it to move on.  I wasn't enjoying what was right here in front of me because I was so upset about what wasn't here.

I've started to really stop and look around and realize how much I love it here.  How much I love the beauty of this area and the job I go to everyday.  Baby Girl has advanced so much in her figure skating that I got drawn into her world and it gives me something fun to look forward to and be a part of.  She helps me in ways she has no idea.  Just watching her glide across the ice brings me peace in my heart.  Big Chief is almost done with this part of his life.  A new one starts for all of us very soon.  I'm not sure what that looks like.  We are used to having these special times where he leaves for 9 months to a year and I get to have full control of the house and eat Ruffles in my underwear while watching RuPaul's Drag Race on the big tv.  I can go to Target 4 times in one day, thats perfectly normal.  He's a hugger that one, I'm not sure our marriage can survive the hugging and his Barrett Jackson Auto Auction every day.  But my counselor tells me that I need to keep him around because we balance and we're a good fit for each other.  I think she's sniffed to many of those oils personally.

I have no words of wisdom or any advice if you are going through something similar, or something at all.  I'm the very last person anyone should take advice from.  Unless it has to do with what to wear to a cocktail dinner.  You definitely want my advice for that.  But what I do know is that sometimes we just need a little outside help to get us back on track.   I had no idea when I sat down to write this piece, this was what would come out.  I had an entirely different topic in my head.  Funny how that works.   Maybe Im still grieving tonight in my own way.   But I hear Baby Girl's laughter just a few feet away from me and Big Chief is waiting for his plane ticket home to me.   New adventures are coming.  New dreams are happening.  Life doesn't seem quite as gray tonight.  My heart is reaching out South, in hopes that one day my first love will be back hugging my neck soon.  I pray for him everyday.  I will be here waiting, but he has to make his own choices.   Until then, I have to prepare my sketches for Olympic Skating routines and how to divide the house down the middle so that me and Big Chief can live as one, separate, while meeting in the middle for dates.  I hope he brings flowers and Cartier.  I probably should order some of those oils that keeps me from punching him in the eye.

My Mom Isn't My Best Friend

As a little girl my mom was always the the number 1 lady in my life.  She is who molded me into the person I am today.  Growing up, I used to hear my friends talk about how their moms were their best friends and I was puzzled by this.   My mom never told me I was her best friend.  I never said she was mine either.  Quite the contrary actually, she did tell me she was NOT my best friend on more than one occasion.  For years I wondered why me and my mom's relationship wasn't like the other girl's I grew up with? 

My mom has always without question been there for me.  She doesn't always agree with me and doesn't agree with the decisions I've made, and let me tell you, she's good at voicing at that, but she's always listened to me.  My mom is blunt.  She doesn't beat around the bush and she doesn't tell me what I want to hear.  Which in hindsight I see, is probably some of the fights we may have had.  I know that I have carried this trait with me and I see how it causes misunderstanding and sometimes hurt, but unintentionally.   My mom has a firey temper and boy did I get that.  My mom made sure that us kids had everything we wanted and needed.  She was the CEO of our family.  She ran that machine like a pro, and sometimes she was both Mother and Father.  My dad was a very hard working man, and he worked many hours at a factory and missed out on a lot of school activities, family suppers at the dinner table and other life events because of his hours.  But that was his sacrifice so that my mom didn't have to work.  He wanted her home taking care of his family.  And she did the best job she could. 

In my life today, I see how very lonely that must have been for her at times.  Out of that, we would spend hours sometimes of an evening, watching our shows, just talking.  We would talk about everything.  But isn't this what best friends do?   My mom took me to buy my first homecoming outfit, and my prom dress, and was there when I went on my first date.  My mom was the coolest mom when I was 15!  I had just gotten my driver's permit, and she had a giant 1987 Ford Crown Victoria aka "The Squad Car". And every Friday and Saturday night she loaded the car down with all my friends and let me drive...we went cruising.  We cruised the mall and the strip in that car.  She even let me and my aunt take it out cruising too.  I think that deep down my mom had a blast hanging out with all of us too, but she would never admit that out loud. 

Me and my mom, like every other mother-daughter relationship out there, have had our battles.  In this past year It has hit home what she meant when she told me she wasn't my best friend.  And she wasn't.  She was my mom.  She grew me, she clothed me, she taught me.  She taught me to be a good person, to use my manners, to be polite and kind, she took me to church and showed me what it was like to be a good woman of God and to act right in the house of the Lord.  No one needed "the look" there!  She guided me on boys and tried to warn me.  Sometimes us Stogdill/Johnson women are a little hard headed and have to learn the hard way.  Sometimes she inserted herself when she should have stayed back, but thats what Moms do.  Moms teach and guide and comfort and grow. 

My mom isn't a warm fuzzy kind of gal.  As a matter of fact, I got that too.  Big Chief will be the first to tell you I was a cold Yankee when he met me.  We're definitely not huggers and not big on the "love" talk.  That has changed for me as well.  I know my mom loves me.  I know without saying it, she would come in my hour of need.  I would probably not say this to her in real life, because she may just stare at me with a blank stare and tell me she doesn't understand these feelings.  But my message to my mother this Mother's Day is this:

It isn't said enough, or at all, the life you gave me I appreciate and am grateful.  I am beyond blessed to have you as my mother.  I learned a lot from you, maybe not cooking, but how to get a stain out white sheets!  You were hard on us and strict.  You were no nonsense.   You taught me how to do right.  You gave me memories that will never be replaced.  You have been a GREAT Grammy to my children.   I am sorry that the life I have, has taken us so far from you at times and the visits have been few and far in between and we have missed out on so much.  I am grateful for the phone calls and emails and ways to send videos.  I am happy that I finally found a boy to bring home that you approve of!  You are not my best friend.  You are my mom, and I Love You!  Happy Mother's Day, Mom, I hope your day is Fabulous and filled with everything you want! 

Family Holidays and Traveling Blues

Folks, it has been a bit since we've chatted.  We have elected a new President that seems to put half the nation at ease and the other half running for the hills with their blankets and thumbs.  Its been a time to rejoice and a time to mourn.  I hope we all made it through some how some way.  It seems as though we were all slung right into the holidays.   With the hustle and bustle of the normal stress with that, our family is once again in the middle of a mandatory move thanks to Uncle Sam or possibly George Bush.  We all know he lies at the root of all evil.

This was the first year in my entire life that I did not have a Christmas tree at my house.  It was surreal and sad.  I've been through my fair share of military moves and have become quite used to it but never over the holidays.  I was under the misguided illusion that moving over the holidays would be so much easier since the tiny humans would be on vacation from school and transition would be easier.  I did not, however, take into account that along with all my worldly possessions that I do not trust $6/hour workers to pack and move, that I also would need to account for the dog, the fish, the tiny human itself, and half of Santa's Winter Wonderland of toys and gifts.  Big Chief is at the U-Haul store as I type this ordering the next 3 sized up trailer because of me and all the grandmas.  (I'm sorry Big Chief).   I'm also quite certain that he's telling some unsuspecting poor counter girl that he's real tired that all the women in his life can't listen to one damn thing he has to say and for once pack only what you need.  And to that, I simply say, these things are things we NEED.   Yes, I do need all my handbags and pretty shoes that I don't wear but on special occasions to be packed with us.  Yes, Baby Girl did need a complete life size Dress Form for her new room, right now to be toted all over the Eastern side of the Country up to Canada.  All of these things are necessary to my survival.

I have to say, that there have been many many stressful moments in this move and at more than one time over the last few weeks Big Chief has had to witness his fair share of the illogical emotional breakdown of a girl.  He's handled it pretty well for the most part.  He's taken a lot.  I'm grateful for his understanding and patience with me and his ever popular response..."Darlin, we're on an adventure and we're where we're supposed to be."  I'm also sorry I called him names and attempted to throw a giant fern at his head.   Well, in my mind I did.   He's got such a pretty face.  For the last 2 weeks we have been with our families having Christmas and saying good bye.    You never realize just how much you miss your house and belongings until they're all packed up in a storage facility 1200 miles away.

This was the first Christmas I have shared with my side of the family in about 6 years.  I also realized how important it is to have a house with more than one bathroom.  I'm also certain that my mom has telepathy and knows when I just think I have to use the bathroom.  She'll run in there and occupy like hippies on Wall Street.  Its also hard when your mom is a neat freak and is constantly looking in your room to make sure everything is in its place.  Especially when you're traveling with 1/2 of your house hold goods.  Five days sounded good, until put into action.    We left my side of the family in Indiana and traveled back down south to Tennessee to spend time with Big Chief's family before we headed out.  That's when I was lucky enough to come down with the worse sinus infection I have had in years.  I laid in bed for 3 1/2 days dying and drowning in my own mucous.  Everyone was very supportive and tried to help.   I felt even worse because unlike Big Chief who needs to be dying in my lap when he's sick...I'm the exact opposite.  It goes hand in hand with the part where I don't like to hug....I just want to die in peace.  But God love em all, they just want to help.  I'm not quite sure if my mother in law was actually trying to help me recoup or kill me.   Marie Barones are tricky!  I do know that for 3 solid days she wanted me taking medicine every hour on the hour and if I wasn't taking medicine she was handing me large glasses of wine and chocolates.  I even asked Big Chief if I should be worried???  Just Kidding Marie!   Maybe?

All the tiny humans are in one piece, I'm slowly recovering from Ebola and Big Chief is putting the trailer together and telling me stories of how he had to beat the women off him at the store.  Family time has been awesome.  But with everything its time to move on, and our Adventure the Army keeps telling us about is upon us.  So we are heading out to the North, where I'm going to show Big Chief the ways of the Yankee and learn how to bobsled at Lake Placid and teach my beautiful daughter how to ice skate on a frozen lake and hope that with 2017 things are just a little bit better.  And I have one special thank you....Thank you Big Chief!  You have been my rock to hold me up, my shoulder to cry on, my board to yell and scream and throw things at, you picked me up when I fell, you hugged me when I didn't want to be touched, you wiped my tears, you told me I was beautiful on my ugliest of days, you opened my door every single time (I'm sorry I forget yours every single time), you carpool karaoke'd with me, you made out with me in your high school parking lot, you didn't let me fall out of the truck, You Loved Me when you didn't have to.   Here's to a new Adventure and to a new year of opportunity and Hope!  Happy New Years to all of you as well!  I hope 2017 brings you all happiness and health!!

What the World Needs Now is Love Sweet Love

As a general rule I like to keep my blog pretty up beat and tell the tales of my beloved family and love for all things shiny and pretty.  So with that, this will be my one an only sort of political post for the year...or election cycle.  Look, Y'all, after last night I really feel like we could all use a big dose of love, drinks and maybe even hugs.  That says a lot for a girl who hates hugs.   I'm going to say some positives across the board about the last 24 hours.   It was refreshing to see an entire Nation come out and feel so passionate and try to be engaged in a right that so many men and women fought for us all to have.  It has been interesting to have real conversations with folks who actually paid attention and did their research.  We don't all have to agree, and its foolish to think we would.  Except that girl who told me she believed in Vegan Leather...I can't forgive, forget or be friends with that kind of negativity.

But today, my heart is sad because of the ugly.   No one should be losing friends over the election.  Debates are fun and get our blood pumping but if you have taken it to the point that now you can't go have drinks with your fellow co-worker or share a ride to the famous Peanut Festival Saturday night, with your bestie,  we've all taken it way too far.   We all should have our own opinions and we all should be respectful of others.   After last night, I felt a sigh of relief.  For just a few hours I was happy.  I also sat and remembered how I felt 8 years ago, and then 4 years ago.  We must remember to be kind.  Which is funny coming from a mean ole yankee like me.   Yes, even Yankees have feelings.

Today I penned a little letter.   My letter has to do with my experience, my party, my fellow patriots.  It was not meant to endorse one person over another as much as it was to point out that we had voices and those voices were heard.  So today, I'm going to be happy.  I'm going to trust that God has a plan.  I'm going to have faith that the decision that I made for me and my family was the right one.  I'm going to hold my head high today.  I'm also going to tell my friends who didn't have the same results, that I feel you, I know how you feel.   We are all going to get through this.  And next week, when we've had time to heal, maybe we can start getting prepared for more exciting times.   Be kind.  Thats all I can ask today.  

To Whom it may concern,

Last night our Country went through one of the most important and incredible elections our Country has seen in modern times. It was ugly and nasty. People are confused, people are ecstatic, people are falling on their swords. The question, how did this happen? How did we get the outcome so wrong? Here's your answer:

To Hillary Clinton: At every step of the way you believed you deserved it because you're Hillary Clinton, it was your turn, because you're a female, you paid your dues, because you said so. To those you called deplorables and much worse off the mic, the people answered you. Your resume and your condescending tones towards the very people you wanted to lead said No. Your money, your power, your mafia like ways didn't stop the movement last night! A movement that you ignored. Your greatest mistake was believing that American People were not smart enough to make sure you were not elected. You discounted us.

To the Media: At every step of the way you made sure that the words of her opponents (Not just Trump) were distributed as lies, as hate speech, you fabricated and were in cohorts to strongly back one candidate. You did everything you could to rig the system. And to your credit, it almost worked. Instead of reporting the facts and news you twisted it and tried to further advance your own causes. You failed to realize that the American people used their own brains, their own eyes, and their own ears to hear and see the truth. Your greatest mistake was believing that the majority of the American people were so dumb that they would believe anything you said. You discounted our intelligence and our common sense.

To the RNC: You did everything you could to make sure the little guy, the non-establishment, the guy not on anyone's payroll was not elected. Even when the very people who gave you your seat spoke you went out of your way to sabotage your own platform, your own party just so an "outsider" was not elected. You were willing to burn it all to the ground in order not to have someone on your payroll. You showed you don't care about your people, you care about your own interests. With no money, barely any support Mr. Trump went on to campaign with virtually no help from you. He ran a spectacular grassroots ground campaign. He reached out to a new generation through social media. He talked to the people, like they are people. He didn't use his money to buy politicians to endorse him, he used his money to buy the People's pledges, their concerns, their worries, their dreams, their hopes and their belief that anyone in this country from any background can make a difference. He broke your platform. You discounted the people's anger towards your arrogance. You discounted the people's anger to be heard.

To the Deplorables: Your voices were heard. Your voices and votes were not discounted. You stood up and came out and we spoke. No one can deny anymore that the little man's vote doesn't matter. They said it would never happen. That the Deplorables were too dumb to have a say and too lazy to make an appearance. They will call us names and tell us that our concerns and values don't matter. But they do. Our voices were heard. And when you continuously tell a man his worth is nothing, an uprising happens. And that's what happened last night. Our voices were heard!

Sincerely,
the Adorable Deplorable

Marie Barone is my Mother In Law

Its a story old as time: Boy meets girl, girl marries boy, new mama secretly hates girl.   When I started dating again I had all these questions I asked before a boy was ever able to walk through the first door.  It was a list.  A big list.   What I didn't ask, because in my first marriage I never dealt with this issue was, do you have a mama and are you close and is she crazy?  Now before I go any further we should note for the record, I don't care if Mother Theresa is your mother in law, she's crazy.  All moms are crazy.  I fully admit that I am crazy as a mother.  I feel bad for my son's future wife, it will not be pretty.  She won't be good enough and she won't fold his clothes the right way.  I'm not going to worry about Baby Girl's future husband because Big Chief is going to take care of that and have the hole already dug.   There was not a lot of interaction with me and Big Chief's mama before we were married.  She came to the house a few times and I tried really hard to impress her by making dinner one night and just trying to keep my big Yankee mouth shut.  There's a huge cultural difference between Big Chief's southern roots and my obvious sarcastic no filter Yankee ways.  The southerners like to remind you of that fact, they're still mourning the loss of the war.  A lot.  However, I have accepted their artery clogging sweat tea and their ability to bless hearts into my life.  I think to reciprocate they just let me come to Thanksgiving dinner and eat fried turkey and bloated corn (which is apparently something called hominy, don't eat it, you'll just embarrass yourself in front of your new in-laws by spitting it in a napkin and then falling over from a seizure).  I'm getting there with the blending, slowly.  It's a crap shoot on any given day whether they like me or not.  Now I just show up with booze in the trunk.

Once the eloping took place I guess you could say that may have set the tone for things to come for a few years.  I had a huge wedding the first time around and well, that didn't quite work out.  So for me, another big wedding was embarrassing and just didn't seem proper.  I knew he wanted one and to this day, I do regret not doing it for him.  When she found out we were engaged she was ecstatic, I think.  And she didn't miss a beat.  Our little wedding of just friends turned into a huge catered event with a fruit fountain and a band and I freaked out.  Maybe if it had been a nacho cheese fountain, I wouldn't have gotten the fevers?   So, we eloped.  His mother missed out on her only child's wedding and I as his new wife didn't realize how this affected her until many years later.   I think as a general rule biological mothers and daughters have their own turmoil but they've been dealing with each other's special brand of crazy for so long its normal.  When you add the mother in law's special brand of crazy, well, we as girls have a natural tendency to be a little territorial and therefore, that's a whole new level of cray cray.  There's a lot of jockeying back and forth on who's his #1 girl and who has the say.  We went through many rocky years of ups and downs and emotions and my feelings are more important than your feelings.  And Baby Boy was over in the garage drinking a case of Busch Lite yelling: "y'all are stupid I'm out of this".   He still does that.  And that's why I put sour cream in the mashed potatoes.

At some point the crazy kind of slows down and evens out.  We just start getting along.   Maybe its a new moon, a new addition with the granddaughter or we all up'd our meds?  My mother in law gave me her prize winning baby boy approved home made from scratch cupcake recipe complete with the homemade icing.  He loves mama's cupcakes.  It was even laminated!  I knew the tides were turning and we had hit the moment in our lives where maybe the petty fights were gone.  So, I sat out to make those delicious vanilla cupcakes to surprise him with.  I was so excited.  Now, I'm not a baker.  I can mess up a microwave brownie in a mug.  But If I could master these cupcakes, man OH man I was going to be money.   So I made them.  Decorated them.   He came home and bit into one and I knew right off the bat....something was wrong.   So I took a bite.  OMG what is missing from these, their awful.  I couldn't figure it out.  I had made them straight from her recipe.  I'm looking around the kitchen, I double checked all my measuring devices what was going on?   I don't know?   I went back to making box cupcakes because I don't know what happened.  Later that year she gave me her famous sausage ball recipe, the holy grail of recipes in his family, minus the baked mac n cheese I'm still working on!  Now y'all if you've never had a sausage ball, its like you've never lived a full life.  It's comfort food at its best.  900 balls of Bisquick, cheese and sausage baked and it goes straight to your waistline.  And you won't care.   The first batch I made burned and dry?  OK, do another batch, the balls were not balls they fell apart and melted on the baking sheet.   What the hell, YO!

As I'm sitting there sulking one night because well, now I'm gonna hear it.  "That's OK baby boy, mama will make you cupcakes and sausage balls".    I started scrolling through the TV channels pouting and irritable and came across Everyone Loves Raymond.  And the light bulb went off.  I'VE BEEN MARIE BARONE'D!!  There is an episode where Debra desperately wants to make Ray's favorite meal that only Marie has the recipe for.  She brings her a box over with the recipe and all the ingredients so it will be "perfect".  Only its not.  Its awful.  And Debra can't figure it out.  And as she's boxing all the stuff up to take back to Marie the label falls off one of the herb bottles, it was not the correct herbs!  Marie had faked the label so the dish wouldn't taste good.  So I called my mother in law and told her what I had made and read off the list.  Everything was good.  It was all the same.  You can imagine how heart broken I was that my streak of being the world's worst baker was all on me.  Again.   And then it happens, later that year she's at my house and she's going to make sausage balls.  She grabs my recipe that she typed and she says..."Deana RAE, I didn't put the milk on the here, oops" and laughter.    Now, she claims this and the cupcake snafu was all an innocent accident but I know, deep down....Marie Barone is my Mother In Law!!!  OH we laugh about that now...but one day, oh one day.........

At one point in our relationship while Big Chief was deployed over the big pond I decided I would paint our house and ask my mother in law to come help me.  She's kind of a self proclaimed jack of all trades handy woman.   So I wanted to look like I knew something and wasn't just some dumb girl. I got the bright idea of prepping the house before she got there.  I was going to putty holes and sand. I dropped my cloths and got busy that night before she got there.  I filled, puttied and scraped.  I even got out the paint and decided I'd do the hall and surprise her with one room done.  She rolled in and took one look and said...Deana RAE, you're not going to be painting, you're going to watch Baby Girl and bring me something to drink.  And it came out exactly how you read that.  Judgment.  So that whole weekend, I was the gopher.  She painted my entire kitchen, dining room, hall (again) and living room along with the 12 foot sky light ledge.  AND then she told Big Chief how she refused to let me handle a paint brush and she painted his house.  We all laughed it off....I see what you did there Marie!

Many a time she has asked for my special mashed potato recipe, I always laugh a little and think to myself....should I????  But I don't because you see, that would be obvious.  Oh no, my payback will be much more deviant than that.   I have to say in all reality as far as Mother In Laws go, even though I'm not sure how they're supposed to work or fit in, in the grand scheme of things, I think I probably did OK.  I look back over the years and I see that there are many things I could have done different. I think she probably would say the same thing too, probably not to me,  or baby boy, or out loud but to Jesus, she'd probably tell Jesus.  We have 2 things in common that can't be denied: I love her son more than anything in this world and try to take care of him and keep him alive and we have the BEST kids (grand kids for her) in the entire world.  We don't always see eye to eye on the spoiling of the tiny humans.  And our fashion sense for how Baby Girl should be dressed is sometimes on different ends of the spectrum.  So for her when she buys Baby Girl anything with fringe, I smile and put it on her when we're around Yeehaw (yes she calls herself Yeehaw...pick your battles ladies) and we take pictures of proof and then the next week I breathe a sigh of relief.   I will never be more grateful than I am with the love and acceptance that she gave my son.  She came into his life when he was 5 years old and she immediately called him grandson.  She loves him as her own and when there were times I didn't think I could get out of bed this year or wanted to see another day, she was there.  She would have dug a hole or two if I had asked.  No questions asked.  She has been my second mother.

So now, when we go visit and she tells Baby Boy she made him cupcakes, I smile, because I know that's home for him.  And we all just want to have a little home sometimes.  She makes me feel welcome there too, she even puts chocolates on my pillow.  I know that sometimes its very hard for her to feel that bond with me.  Its because I'm a cold Yankee (according to baby boy) and my lack of wanting to be touched or hugged.  (They're huge huggers...its awkward...I don't know what to do with my hands!)  I came from a family that doesn't hug or say I love you or show outward affections.  I do love Yeehaw, in her own special crazy kind of way.  I'm very blessed and lucky to have someone in my life and my children's life that has been so welcoming.   Without her, I wouldn't have my best friend and my life long companion in this world.  So for that alone, I am forever grateful.  I hope one day, she looks back on our time together and at some point I made her smile once or twice too!

I have FOMO with my YOLO!

I like to think that I'm pretty hip on the scene.  I know all the new latest fashions.   I watch all the cool TV shows.  I'm a foodie snob.  Long gone are the days of the McDonald's Royal With Cheese being my go to meal.  My 8 year old daughter eats risotto.  We're cultured up in this Castle.  But as of lately something has been missing in my world.  I didn't know what it was.   All I knew, was that after my walks at the park I would come home and just mope and lay in the dependa staple (yoga pants and husband's unit tee shirt) and eat Boy Scout popcorn and golden Oreos.  A lot of Oreos.  I live an hour and a half from the beach but making that drive just seems like such a commitment I'm not willing to invest in.  I've been trying to go to Target for weeks.  Now you know it's serious, I haven't been to TARGET in WEEKS.   The devil is probably ice skating.

And then I saw it, right there in black and white on the intranet.  Scott Disick is having feelings of FOMO!!!  WTF is FOMO?   I know the obvious question is why are you entertaining Scott Disick?  I have no real good answer for this.  I've found myself deep in the rabbit hole of KUWTK and I can't get out.  So I latched on to Scott.  Don't Judge Me.   I pulled up the urban dictionary and naturally FOMO-the Feeling of Missing Out!  OH I have this all the time.  ALL the time!  Usually it has to do with me not being at Target but here lately I've really had a bad case of the FOMO.  Who knew someone took the time to make it an actual "thing".   I'm sure it was a Kardashian, Gah, do they have to have their hands in everything??  I obviously have FOMO over that too.

Big Chief has went back to a daily routine so I'm here alone most of the day.  And the first day I was really excited about that.  But then I realized that I had no excuse for not mopping my bathroom floor now.  So I went back to the ugly brown chair and moped.   I used to love being at home.  Being Big Chief's trophy wife in my own mind.  Having lunch every day with the girls downtown.   But that's not me anymore.  I had independence in Little Mexico.  And free access to the Nordstrom account and no one said a word to me.  I've got FOMO for Nordstrom.   I've been pursuing work since April.  I live in small town USA here at Fort Rucker.  You can imagine that the major FOMO of Enterprise, Alabama is, well, LIFE, we have FOMO for Life here.  Its a beautiful place, a quaint little town.  But this girl longs for the City life.  I need to be able to wear my Stuart Weitzmans to Mellow Mushroom without judgment and stares.  I need to go to a Mall that's not Walmart.  Sometimes I go to Publix and peruse the deli aisle and sneak pinches off their freshly baked breads and loiter.  I can also BOGO and not get FOMO!!!!

I had applied for a Paralegal job here.  I was so excited when they called me, it was exactly what I had been doing in Little Mexico and the people were so nice.  So nice that I had no idea when they told me they would call me in a week to start that that was the South's way of saying, HAHAHA, we're never calling you again.  And they didn't.   But that's not even the most peculiar thing that happened.  I went in for my first interview.  I was in proper interview attire.   I wore a nice Michael Kors winter weight knee length safari dress with gold buttons and a gold belt, matching inspired Valentino studded pumps.  (doesn't inspired sound so much better than....BCBG knock offs!)  I had my Fendi handbag and I rocked that interview.   They called me back for a second interview.  I knew, I had this!!!  1 hour before my interview began I received a call from the agency booking this job and they said to me: "Whatever you do, don't dress up.  Don't be so professional.  They're very casual.  Just be.  Casual.  Ok?  Can you do that?  Don't dress up!!!"  I immediately experience FOMO!   I have too much of my grandmother in me, how do you not go to church or to a job interview and not dress up OR professional.  Now this was a challenge.  So, I went with the trendy Fall burgundy tee shirt swing dress with the Burberry Scarf, cute sandals and my basic monogram Louis.  Look people that's as dressed down casual as my inner self could deal with.  I walked into the interview again, met the attorney and then he introduced me to his.....Wife.   We talked about my experience, my goals here, my kids and the schools.  It was going great.  And then they never called me again.  I'm not sure who got hired there, but I'm assuming they did not have the September Vogue to guide them.  So much FOMO.

However, along with the FOMO I realized that I needed to embrace YOLO.   You Only Live Once!  I know that one was easy but it saved you a click in the urban dictionary.   I decided to embrace the YOLO.  So I took the plunge.  A new me.  I joined Big Chief's razor of the month club!  Gone is my pretty pink 3 blade razor with the aloe strips that never helped anyone.  I threw caution to the wind and took the plunge.   I have to say I was skeptic, but my eyes have opened and I'm a believer!  Not too mention we save a little money there on the Dave Ramsay budget and that always makes Big Chief's eyes sparkle just a little bit.  Next on the list, I let the tiny human pick what she wanted to wear to school for a week.  This one only lasted for a week because when she came out wearing neon orange track shorts, an American themed spirit shirt and Michael Kors beige flats I just couldn't do it anymore.  You can only YOLO once and there was no way I was going to have FOMO over this YOLO!   My inner sensibilities and my now very famous instagram picture that the very Nina Garcia actually commented on, said I had to shut that down.  So that was a YOLO fail.  But I tried.

I've made a decision that with this year being almost over and new adventures awaiting us in January that I'm going to make a dedicated decision to ditch the FOMO and do more YOLO.   I'm sure by January the cool kids will have come up with something way more clever but until then, I've ordered myself Ice Skates, a bedazzled leotard and a feather hair clip.   I'm going to YOLO the hell out of Upper State New York!  

Woman Lives in 90 sq. ft. Apartment in NYC....This isn't even big enough to house my Handbags! Lord Help Her!

As I was out walking this morning and enjoying Mother Nature in all her splendor and my shin splints I was telling my girlfriend, fellow Cav wife, that I've been in a slump with my writing.  It's like all the magic had left my finger tips and I let people get my in head that I shouldn't have.  I've really been at a loss of things to share or give my unwanted opinion about.  And then today, while sitting in the ugly brown chair watching last night's episode of Project Runway it was if it fell in my lap.  And literally it did.  I was thumbing through my Facebook feed and reading fellow bloggers and came across this article and I knew...I had to share with the world.  I want to thank the fine folks at the website....People I Want to Punch In the Throat!  You made my day, and helped me find my mojo again.  Gracias!!!

I'm scrolling through and I'm immediately hit with the title:  Woman lives in 90 sq. ft. apartment in NYC.   Wait, what?   Well, naturally I had to step inside and see how she lives.  What can I say that you aren't already thinking???  There are people in this world that are a little different, a little eclectic.   We definitely need those people.  Then there are people who for whatever reason, I'm not sure should breathe the same air as the rest of us.  Now, I'll be the first one to tell you that on any given day I fluctuate between those very 2 categories.  This woman, no.  Just no.

We meet Felice and she begins this little 5 minute video standing outside her 90 sq. ft. NYC downtown Manhattan apartment.  She wanted to live in Manhattan but didn't want to pay to live there.  Makes sense, don't we all???  So a friend of hers talks her into this cracker jack box of an apartment, or as I like to call it...a coat closet,  so that she can be near Central Park and all that NYC has to offer.  And libraries.  Don't forget the libraries.  I can tell you that me and Felice nor her friends would be buddies in real life.  AND if any of my friends suggested this equivalent to living in the trunk of my car in the park, I would be throat punching them.  She is so excited to introduce us into her tiny world and I can't lie, I'm excited to see this.  Felice is a professional organizer.  I had no idea that was a profession.  I mean, people really hire someone to come put your shit in boxes and shelves.  Its clear I have really squandered my years and imagination.   But this is good to know so I can add the numerous years of army moves and organizing my daughter's Barbie and Shopkins, to my resume!

Her "main living area" consists of a desk, a chair, a computer, shelves to the ceiling for all her organizing, a small window and a rug.   There is no kitchen.  I repeat, there is no kitchen.  But hey, you're in Manhattan who really cooks anyways, right?  But seriously folks, even Carrie Bradshaw had a kitchen and there was wine and saltine crackers and one pot.   She does have the college dorm fridge that she has to stock every 3 days and she has a toaster oven that holds her bananas.   This is place is so small you couldn't fit a side of nachos from Taco Bell in there.  She has one make shift closet that fits a couple of coats and shirts.  I'm already thinking to myself, this wouldn't hold 3 of my handbags...this is NO BUENO!  And then she takes us into the biggest room, the bathroom.

I almost had a panic attack watching this part.  She goes on about how big this bathroom is and quite frankly she thinks its getting bigger.  I'm fairly certain that Felice smokes a lot of weed.  You have to sit sideways on the toilet so you don't hit the linen cabinet or the tub.  In order to get in or out of the tub you must climb over the toilet and hope you don't take a header into the sink.  And I'll quote Felice..."you only take one shower a day anyways soooo".   I hope organizing spaces doesn't make her too sweaty, otherwise........  Now, I can tell you my first thoughts with this bathroom situation is this....what if you have the worst case of flu, the kind that has you puking and pooping from both ends at the same time??? We've all been there.  We've all huddled naked on a bathmat crying in our own shame once in our lifetime.  I'm not sure if that happened in this bathroom if you would ever recover from the physical or emotional trauma.  I'm glad she's a good organizer, she's going to need those skills when she's trying to clean up her own bodily fluids with the 1 square of toilet paper and wash rag that will fit in there.  I mean, I literally was at a loss over this bathroom situation.  I need to pray for her right now.

Next we moved onto the final room, the bedroom.  Its a bunk bed/loft.  There's no sitting up in this bed, I'm not sure she really has room to crawl in and out of this bed but she did.  Which leads me back to the bathroom situation.   Can you imagine having to climb up and down that ladder if you have to throw up in the middle of the night with that dreaded ebola flu???  She'll never make it down those stairs.  You know what else isn't happening in this apartment, sex.  No one is getting laid in this apartment.  There's no possible way that anyone is getting lucky there.  People who've had sex in Fieros had more room than she does.  She lays in bed of a night and reads.  And openly admits she has panic attacks due to feeling like she's in a box and that she might fall out of the bed.  Which the bed has rails.  I'm not sure if falling to her death in the middle of the night from a bunk bed should be her biggest worry at this point in her life.

I'm positive that Felice is a lovely individual and we could learn from her and her conservative living.  She doesn't live over her means and grew up being taught the value of a dollar.  I admire that.  Big Chief suggested once that we could sell everything we have and move into an RV for the last few years of his Army career and we would be financially set to build the house of our dreams and have all this extra income in our pockets.  But I like living happy and married and he likes living without me yelling at him everyday.  So, I think we are doomed to live the American dream, in debt, but with really good shoes and handbags!!!!!  So to you Felice, I say Rock On in your affordable $700 a month Manhattan apartment!  You're living the dream, and no one can take that away from you!!!

Here's the link to check out her video, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!! And please, let's discuss this...what are your thoughts about this space????  Woman lives in 90 sq. ft. apartment

Make the Lambs Stop Screaming

It’s that time of year again, our tiny humans are growing up and being shoved out the door to start new chapters in their lives.  It’s the day all mothers live for, BACK TO SCHOOL!!  The 1^st day of school outfits have been picked out, the brand new shoes are shiny and ready to go, the new back packs are packed with the $500 worth of school supplies and enough hand sanitizer and glue sticks to supply the entire country of Malawi.    This year, it was brought to my attention by another blogger’s blog that I may have committed a cardinal sin for the last 2 years and didn’t know.   I took my daughter’s backpack and had her name stitched on the front pocket.  I’m that mother that will have her name and/or initials put on anything and everything so it only seemed natural that her school bag should have her name too so as there was no confusion that the giant red and white polka dot Jansport with the Minnie Mouse cheer bow zipper charm belonged to my baby.  I had no idea that I had just given all the information necessary for child predators, convicts, and the Monogrammed Mom Squad needed to publicly ridicule me and beat me down for being the worst mother on the planet.  It really only took me a few seconds and a few keystrokes to let them know, sometimes fashion comes second to nothing.  I have the blisters from Manolos to prove this.   We decided to live on the dangerous side.   It’s been 2 years and oddly enough, she’s still in our possession so YAY us for managing not lose our child.

My daughter started 2^nd grade this year and our expectations vs. her expectations have been slightly a miss.  My daughter likes to “forget” things.  Last year we “forgot” 3 lunch boxes, 2 jackets and a pair of shoestrings.  To this day, I still don’t know how we lose our shoestrings….I guess that will be one of life’s little mysteries.   What she can remember is that she didn’t like her sandwich for lunch and she wants her $0.75 for her orange popsicle everyday.   Today was no different.  She forgot her homework folder.   So in my attempt to teach her responsibility and consequences we had a short chat.  In which it was relayed to her that since she forgot her homework, she would not be allowed any IPAD time tonight.  For those of you with 7-year-old girls, you know where this headed, fast and in a hurry.  Tears, lots of big crocodile tears.  A 7-year-old girl can fall on her sword and weep like no other human being on this planet.  There is a lot of drama and wailing and arms.  It almost makes you want to give in just so the madness of it all will stop, but you have the inner voice telling you to be strong, you can’t be worn down by a 7-year-old.   They smell fear and defeat.   The screams are so traumatic. 

After dinner she came up to me in her sweetest little girl voice and said she wanted to go shopping, would I take her shopping.  Now, normally I would have delighted in her new revolution to go spend daddy's money and give me an excuse to spend daddy's money.  But alas, the times they are tough with the recession, army cut backs, and my ability to not use my Nordstrom credit card.  Relunctantly, I started with the excuse that mama didn’t have any money.  So she suggested she could use her money.  Now I may have paused and actually pondered this and then I snapped out of my Target day dream and reminded her that she was in trouble and that I wouldn’t be rewarding her by taking her toy shopping.  Again, crying.  Lots of crying.  The kind of crying that Grandma can hear from over 7 hours away.   Ironically, I get a text that says to go ahead and give her the special box that will be showing up today, she deserves it.  How do they know????    It was clothes so I knew the wow factor wouldn’t be near as big as the American Girl Gymnastic Set we’ve been eyeing on YouTube.   I love it when I can crush dreams.   I had already rented a movie for her so I decided we would watch that.   After it was over we went to return it and while we’re in the car she asks me if the only thing she can do tonight is just watch her TV.  So we have the talk again, you’re not getting the Ipad or your phone to play on YouTube.  Again she asks, “so I can only watch my TV?”, yes, that’s all you can do.   So then with her sneaky eyes she says, “so I can watch Netflix?”   DAMN YOU ROKU SMART TV!  She almost had me.  So once again we have the talk, No you can’t have Netflix, you can’t have YouTube, You cannot hook up to anything on the Internet.  Nice try kid.   Crying again.   I can’t handle the crying.  Because now I want to cry and I’m driving and drinking while driving apparently is frowned upon.   At least I think it is here, we are in Alabama so who knows, it may very well be acceptable.  I should look into this.   The only thing I can think of is the McDonalds that’s right next-door.  I will bribe her with ice cream!!!  What kid doesn’t want ice cream???  Nope, she wants chicken nuggets.  Another conversation about how we just had supper we’re not eating supper again.  Ice Cream is the only option on the table.  Commence sad face.  She’ll pass.   Until I actually pull out of the parking lot and onto the busiest street in town, she’s changed her mind; she’ll take ice cream.  OH MY BLOODY HELL WHATS WRONG WITH THESE KIDS?????  Sorry, kiddo you missed out, say what you mean, mean what you say.   Crying again. 

I’m not sure when this crying thing stops.  I’ve heard tales of never.  That just seems so depressing to me.  I need something to look forward too.  I never did drugs, I didn’t drink while I was pregnant, I did eat an abnormally large amount of cheese is this what has caused the emotions?   Is it the dreaded gluten?   Why are our daughters so emotional????  Tomorrow is a new day with new possibilities and opportunities.  I’m hoping we come home with our shoestrings and lunchbox and the homework folder.  I hope we get to sit by our bestie on the school bus.  I hope that when I research the open container law in Lower Alabama it makes me smile, I need a good reason to get that elusive way too expensive Yeti tumbler.   But most of all, I hope tomorrow is a tear free day!!!  

The Pottery Anniversary

A smidgen over 9 years ago I was out on the town with my bestie enjoying ladies night at the local dance establishment near Ft. Campbell.  It was our Thursday night tradition after classes we would hit the scene.  And by scene, I mean that one dive bar that didn't make us pay a cover and we felt like royalty when we walked in because we had all our teeth and no wardrobe malfunctions.  We had just got there that night and I happened to look over to the table that was beside us and I saw him.  He had the prettiest blue eyes and smile.  So we tried and tried our best to make subtle eye contact but nothing was really happening.  Until the belch heard around the world.  My Bestie....and all the attention was immediately on us.  She has talents I will never ever be able to recreate.  Which reminds me...its been far too long, I need to get that weekend booked!

Those beautiful blue eyes and that smile made its way to our table and I was in!  We even got them to follow us all over town that night.  He refused to buy me a drink.  He saw no problem letting other random dudes buy my drinks that evening.  I found that strange.  Probably not nearly as strange as where the conversation would take us that evening.  Lies.  ALL LIES.  There were so many lies told that night.  But who thinks that when you're scamming boys out of free drinks and David Allan Coe Karaoke that those lies would come into play later!  Things to consider when you check your morals at the door.  I think at one point in the evening my name changed at least 4 times and ended with us being Laverne and Shirley.  Cause that seemed like a good story at the time.  I was only 24 years old that night.  (i was 30).   He told me he was 22 and was a mechanic (he was 26 and a pilot).  Good cause I hated Pilots and Special Forces, you were gonna have to go if you even tried to entertain our table with those crap stories.   At some point when we left that evening I had his number, he had mine.  He couldn't remember my name, I couldn't remember him.  So I saved him as 22 in my phone.  Apparently he saved me as "Girl".  Well, i was a girl, can't deny that.    This comes into play the next time I see him.

We text, we call, we chat.  And then I just show up at his house, invited by someone else actually.  Oh look, its a big ole party.  His Cav Family.  I walk in and everyone just stops and stares and he comes out says Hi and then leaves.  Just walks off.  Um, ok.  Well this isn't awkward with the all the staring and Jenna Jameson posters on the walls.  So me and the bestie, there we are hiding in a corner deciding what's the respectable amount of time to stay and then sneak out.  AND then you hear it..."who's that?  oh that's the girl he met at that bar."  Awesome, time's up lets roll!   Mr. Wonderful appears out of no where around the corner, there's a lady sitting on the couch mean mugging me...I find out later, thats his mom.   Great...now I'm the skanky girl who brought her own beer and her bestie to her son's house that apparently he picked up at a bar 4 days before and no one knows anyone's name and I'm being judged.  This is working out great.  Buh Bye...22.  

Some time goes by because at this point there's a holiday approaching.  Valentine's Day.   So it's funny how our texts seem to be moving right along in friendly chat and he would meet me for lunch some after I was done teaching......BUT our visits seemed to stall for a bit.  After February 14 he was back with a vengeance.  I see what you did there Big Chief!!!  He'll pay for that later in the marriage.  We started dating.  And when I say we...you don't just date the man in the CAV, nope, you date him and all his Besties.   I felt like that scene from Goodfellas, where she talks about how they only went on vacation with the inner circle, birthdays, holidays, it became normal.  Yeah, that's what it was.  One of his besties even smelled me.   Now that may have been a rather peculiar evening, but, I just sat very still like and once he got his fix, we were all good.  I guess I passed the test???   We're still close to this day.  Funny how that works.  I wouldn't trade any of those times or those people for anything in the world.  

It wasn't until one night late in the Summer, I was at work and got this call that he needed to know if could come get him from his boat out on the lake.  So after my night class was over, i headed out to the lake....over an hour away.   And there I find a man all happy.  Really happy.   Oh Lort, this is gonna hurt.  So it takes me another 2 hours to get him off his boat in my car so we can go home.  Some of us aren't pilots and rule the world, one of us needs to go to work tomorrow.  Now he's hungry.   Of course he is.   So here's what you should know....no one should ever have a serious conversation about life and goals when they've been on a boat since 8 that morning and partying with their new local Jimmy Buffet wanna be best friends.  This was about to get cray cray.  And unfortunately for the poor 16 year old girl working the drive-thru at McDonalds that night, she was about to witness the madness.  You should never start your conversation with : Damn it woman, what are your intentions with me, where is this going?   Cause this is not the answer you're going to like:  I'm taking you home to sleep this off, now shut up and what do you want????   I was not prepared for the likes of the spectacle that was coming my way.   WHAT???  NO, NO, I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND....I LOVE YOU DEANA RAE,  I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU....I GOT FRIENDS, I DON'T NEED ANYMORE FRIENDS!!  This did not just happen.  As we pull up to the window, the girl is just standing there speechless.    So I did what I thought was best....No you don't, you're in love with the idea of being in love, shut up, eat your sammich, and enjoy the ride back.   Never say "you're in love with the idea of being in love" to a guy who really thinks he's in love and has liquid courage and cheeseburgers in his hand.    I finally just said Alright....I really like you too, we have levels, I'm getting there.  Because, he's never ever going to remember this conversation the next morning.

Now, this man who I do love who can't remember any conversation, any outfit, any date, any significant event that took place during our courtship....oh he remembers this particular conversation.  And he reminds me about it on a surprise vacation for my birthday...that his mother planned....and decides we should get married.  He plays it off as a joke, because he couldn't find a chapel in such short planning.  I guess he forgot to tell his mom to plan that little event.   So once we were back to Woodlawn and I was dropping him off he asked me on his ugly brown couch to marry him, for real.  It really was a whirlwind romance.  It was crazy on all levels.  There wasn't really any one piece of this story that said this was a smart idea.  And yet, I couldn't say no to his blue eyes and his smile.  I just knew.  

We had only dated for a short 8 months.  I mean that alone is shorter than the counseling you do before you even get married.  The writing is clearly on the wall for this.  I mean, our entire relationship was based on lies.  We cleared all that up, eventually, ok, we're still kinda clearing up some of those lies to this day.  The ones we can remember.  We ended up in Louisville for a Cav Reunion and decided why not.  2 weeks after he asked me we went to the Justice of a Peace and said I do.  It wasn't the big wedding I know he wanted.  We didn't even have our rings until after the ceremony.  I'm also just glad that we learned each other's names before the ceremony because that would have been awkward.  I almost threw up in the bathroom 2 hours before we went to the Court House.  And then, it was done.  It was official.   I had a moment where I was happy, and I was going, Deana Rae what did you just do??   But then later that evening after our ceremonial Hard Rock Cafe dessert shooters in a shot glass, we went down to the reunion, and he introduced me as his wife.  He had his arm around my waist all evening.  And that was it.  I didn't care anymore, he was the one.  It was right.  

The next few years, he would be gone fighting the big fight over the big pond and training.  Baby Girl came along, and she was a big SURPRISE!   Life kicked in.  After 5 years of being married through the deployments and the training and the work schedules and his schools, we were together.  We had to learn how to be a whole family and how to love each other AND be around each other for more than a few days at a time.   He's seen my crazy, I've seen his.  He opens the door for me every time.  I forget to unlock his side, every time.  He still puts his arm around me and calls me "darlin".   I love that word, when he says it.   His blue eyes still sparkle and his smile melts my heart. 

It's been a rough year.  The roughest for our family.  There's not one place in the world I'd rather be than right by his side.  He holds me up.  He encourages me.  He accepted me and my faults.  I've failed over and over.   He picked me up.   He's my hero.  He's a success in his life because of "WHO" he is, not what he is or what he does.  He's not perfect, and I don't care.  He wipes my tears and makes me laugh.  He's a damn man. I feed him and keep him alive.  I love him with a love that I didn't know really existed.  I didn't know this was real.  There are days where I want to punch him in the eye and then snuggle in the manfur and listen to the nonsense he says that's some dumb man gibberish.  He changed me.  I will forever be grateful that every situation, every relationship, every moment in my life prior to him...lead me to him.  This was my rendezvous with destiny!   He refused to get me my piece of pottery to mark this year on our journey.  I thought a plate with our hand prints would be nice, he said...Damn it woman, I can't afford to pay attention after your birthday-anniversary-mothersday-just because-boots you bought 3 months ago!!!!  So today, I'll just take his undying love and soul and an IOU on dinner when Big Army says he can have a night off!  

Big Chief....I love you......and today, I won't put sour cream in the potatoes just for you!   Nine down.....a lifetime to go!

40 is the new 40

Happy Birthday to me, I'm 40!  What does that mean?  Well, I don't feel any different.  Sometimes I cant remember what I did yesterday or why I walked into a room, but other than a little dementia I seem to be doing ok.  I also have the satisfaction of knowing that I'm still younger, by a WHOLE lot, than my ex's current ex-con wife, so that always makes me light up with a little sparkle.  It's the little things in life.  My Birthday was pretty relaxing.  Sometimes uneventful is a good thing.  Besides, after the latest Nordstrom Anniversary Sale shopping, I knew to lay low!  I decided this was the year I was going to look at things with a new renewed vision.  Try to find the happy place.   That lasted about 24 hours and then....kids!

Today I managed to hit my breaking point and literally said out loud that they were all one step away from finding their pictures on a milk carton.   They'll have to look that reference up on the YOUTUBE to even know what that means.  Which won't be for another 24 hours because I confiscated everything in this house that hooks to wi-fi.  I've decided that whole "God doesn't give you anything you can't handle" business is a crock.  And if my car wasn't super clean and it wasn't raining, this girl would be making a run for the hills!  Apparently when I turned 40 I started to turn slightly into my mom.  Maybe just a little.  Or my kids are just paying me back for everything I did.  Probably both.   But since I'm back home I like to clean and cook and the kids like to make messes and eat me out of the house and they also seem to have some sort of dementia as well.  

Now at 40, I think there are a few things I've earned in life.  For instance, fudge stripe cookies.  I don't ask for much.  Ok, I don't ask for much on a daily basis.  Ok, when it comes to snacks, I don't ask for much.  There are 2 times in my life that I require an infinite amount of snacks and drinks....March Madness NCAA Basketball time and the Olympics.  I will sit in the ugly brown chair hooked up to a Mt. Dew IV and an end table full of chips, cookies and cashews and sometimes I'll yell out for Big Chief to come turn me or bring me tacos.  It's a well known fact that we know not to bother me or interrupt me or ask me if we can watch ROKU when the one sporting event only happens once every 4 years is on!  NO!!!   And yet, here we are, at the crossroads of a day that finds me without my fudge stripe cookies.  They were nice enough to put the plastic container back in the wrapper and back into the fridge empty so that I could feel the full extent of let down and heartache.  The sweet tea and Mt. Dew IV was dry as a bone.  Nada!  Potato chip bags were returned to the pantry with 3 crumbs in the bottom of the bag.  I found my inner demon today and she came out, at dinner at my table.   When my beautiful dainty daughter decided she didn't like the meal that had been chosen for her and commenced to puke in her own bowl.   I felt myself boiling on the inside.  Who's kids are these?  Why are they acting like this???  So I did what every calm mom does.....I blew up their worlds, beat them down emotionally, took away the media devices and placed a lifetime ban on their entrance into my kitchen, pantry and refrigerator.   NO COKES FOR YOU!!!   I fully expect their DT's to kick in, in the middle of the night.  

I also seem to be nesting lately too.  This also brings me back to satan's little helpers today.   It must be acceptable in the kid brain to throw all your trash in the floor and think thats ok.  I found band aid wrappers, pop tart wrappers under my couch, empty toilet paper rolls beside the toilet on the floor, tags from clothes and a maze of dirty clothes found in random places, like under the dresser.  So after I finished my F-bomb ladened lecture on the kitchen and how we don't live like white trash, I naturally walked into the bathroom and found the magical empty toilet paper roll still laying on the floor by the toilet.  One kid had just exited from his shower.   NO YOUTUBE FOR YOU!!!  It was at that moment I started counting.  Ten seemed to come too fast, so I counted to 20.  Then I took a shower.  Then I ate the brownies that I fixed only for me.  I ate those sum-bitches right in front of those lil fuckers and didn't share!!  DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE A GANGSTER!!!   

Big Chief was smart, even though during my 2 speeches he seemed to be motioning for me to wrap it up because he thought I was dragging it all out, he went to work and didn't speak.   You see, Big Chief seems to have been my sweet tea bandit.   He should be glad he gets to come home.  Oh, he'll pay for that.  He's still trying to figure me out.  He has to deal with all the regular girl emotions and now he gets the 40 year, not quite menopausal, but not quite normal, me too.  There's lots of emotions on any given day.  He never knows if Jeopardy is going to make me cry or he has to worry about sour cream being put in his scrambled eggs, or if his dirty girlfriend is going to show up.  He deals with many different personalities on a daily basis.  He probably should drink way more.  But doesn't that excitement keep it invigorating and on your toes guys??   

Even though this past year was and continues to be one the hardest and emotionally draining years to go through I've learned a lot about myself.  I learned that at 40, I didn't complete a majority of what I wanted to do.  I did learn that I can do whatever I want to because I have someone who's beside me who will encourage me to do any hair brained crazy idea I get the notion.  I learned its ok to mix patterns and I can wear white after Labor Day.  I think.   I can still hit a good volley on the tennis court.  I know that there's an entire world out there I haven't explored but I plan on it.  You only get so many opportunities to make the most of where you are, you should take advantage of that.  So let's see what 40 holds for me!!!  I sure hope Big Chief is ready for this adventure!

The Dark Twisty Place

Since about October of last year I’ve been perpetually stuck in Meredith Grey’s dark twisty place.  I’ve tried personal dance parties to work it out and yelling at the man always makes me feel better for about 10 minutes and then I find myself back in the gloomy spot.  I’ve gained a good 15 pounds, but lets be real, this down time from working and all this Netflixing and snacking is probably the cause of my weight issues.  A can’t say no to queso and tacos.  I just can’t.   My butt has a permanent dent mark in Big Chief’s ugly brown chair and my cute sassy self is now draped in old ratty tee shirts with that weird grease stain from the washing machine and jogging shorts.  My cute little Manolos are all tucked away in the closet next to Kate and Sam.  You know its bad when the tiny human runs by me on the days I actually do get dressed and says…wow momma why ya so fancy today?????  And by fancy she means, why did you wash your hair and use make up.

I thought maybe it was my age.   I mean with all the weird black and gray hairs and the weight gain and irritableness it surely has to be my age and hormones.  Before we left little Mexico I had a physical.  It seems as though all my levels were good.  No thyroid, nothing strange in the blood.  The advice they gave me was drink more wine and walk.  Really???  Let me tell you where you don’t want to walk and drink wine….. Corpus Christi.   Because it’s literally hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell there and Ebola from the red tide could literally mame you.   I’m not walking anywhere.    I’m starting to think Big Chief may be right, maybe us girls are all crazy???   NAH!

So I naturally went to the next possible cause, the kids!  All the pieces are starting to fall into place.   Things you aren’t supposed to say out loud but I’m going to.  There are days where the mere sounds of the kids coming from the other room make me want to punch babies in the face and tie Big Chief to the tree outside upside down like an opossum.   The constant fighting, the constant moody Judys, the constant wanting things like food and water.   WHEN does it stop?  My daughter is 7.  She cries.  A lot.  It’s really to the point that every time I see her tear up I run.  I’m running towards wine, but we’re poor folk these days so wine is limited.  This adds fuel to my emotions.   My 14-year-old boys are so moody I don’t know if I should wind my butt or scratch my watch.   And they smell.  Really bad.     And then if I’m really lucky one of them will want to talk, which is a rare oddity around here.  No one likes to use their words.  But every so often one of the boys will decide they need to speak about something they shouldn’t speak about.  Usually it’s around company and they want to tell everyone about how they feel politically.  That’s fun.  OR sometimes they will wait until you are engaged in your own thoughts just chilling on the couch and then wonder into the living room and want to tell you stories that never end.  Because they can’t find words.   And I just sit there praying in my head…Dear Lord make it stop before I slit my wrists.  Again, things we’re not supposed to say out loud.  I’m really not crazy.  One day, I’m told, they wont be moody or smelly or dumb anymore.  I’m going to need more wine and a Sam’s Club membership.  

I thought it was my old environment.  I do believe living in Hell played a big part in that.  We were all miserable there.   It didn’t take long for everyone to hate everyone while we were in Texas.  It was hot, the people were rude, I had very few good friends, but the ones I did make Im still in contact with and glad to have them.  We also lived in the ghetto.  The entire town was the ghetto and it smelled.  It’s hard to find your happy in a place where you literally wish every day that a terrorist attack would take out an entire city you lived in.  But it was so bad, even terrorists were sitting there going…you know what we’ll just leave them be that’s the worst thing that could happen to them.  We were ecstatic about moving to Fort Rucker.  And for a few weeks I was happier than I had been in months.  Our house is beautiful, we have a pool, the kids have a nice school and my dog can poop outside with out being eaten alive by a coyote.  Good times.  And then life happens.  I’m still dealing with grown up issues and dumb people who love to make sure you’re as miserable as they are.  No matter how hard you wish crazy would take a vacation, it just doesn’t.  I wonder how those people live so long?  It must be even worse on them to spread that amount of hate to other people.  How do you have that much energy because being on the receiving end is exhausting.  Taking the high road, is exhausting.   Trying to be the bigger person and just get through is exhausting.  I do a lot of praying and there are days where I can’t imagine if I’m being punished or if God just isn’t listening to me.  I keep saying, this too shall pass, just keep going.   But I’m exhausted.  I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to argue, I don’t want to be in a position that requires me to have to work so hard at being a good person and setting a good example.  Being good shouldn’t be this hard.   For the last nine years I kept telling myself, this will die down.  At some point when you don’t respond and you ignore they will get bored and move on.  But they haven’t.   Over the last year I have an amount of hate and rage I didn’t know was possible to have.   I go and hide in the bathroom and cry.   I don’t sleep.   I can’t sit still.   All I want is peace.  A peaceful mind.  But 2 people in this world have decided that their own world is so bad and so miserable that they have to spread it.   I wake up everyday and say to myself, you don’t get to control my emotions today.  Today I choose to be happy.  That’s a lot easier than said.   Maybe one day, I can find that place, but boy it’s a struggle today.  People in general, really do just suck.

Fort Rucker is a great place.  It’s no New York City and it’s not home.   But it’s a community that I’m really happy to be in.   I miss working and hope to get back to it soon.  Being out in the real world with other people made me feel like I had a purpose and was contributing to the family.    It’s been nice to be here with the kids and take some time to breathe but I need to be productive again.  It’s hard when you’re a military spouse to find a good job with all our moving.  We’re seen as an employment risk.  I get that.  Why hire someone for just a few months  or a year when you could have someone who’s going to be around for your business as long as you are.  It doesn’t make the disappointment that less painful.    Why oh why was I in such a hurry to grow up and be an adult.   My mom should have smacked me. 

Today I woke up in a cheery mood.  My dark twisty place is still there with the porch light on tempting me to walk in.  But today, I think I’ll stay outside and enjoy the sunshine before the storms come in.  One day at a time, that’s all we can do.  We pray for our health, we pray for our children to be healthy and successful and safe, we pray for peace of mind and today I will pray for peace in my enemies.  Maybe if someone steps up and tries to be the good guy it will become a trend.   I will pray for my family and my husband for having to deal with me.  And last but not least, I will pray that the UPS man doesn’t lose any of my precious packages from my twisty place shopping spree that Big Chief doesn’t need to know about.   And I will dance it out to the Bee Gees.