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!