My Weekly Writing Assignment

I'm really starting to like this Mama Kat lady. Every week I start to worry I've run out of blog fodder. Then her weekly writing assignment pops up and all my worries go away. I have something to blog about!

This week, I've chosen to "...write about a heart that wouldn't quit." It took me all of 3.6 seconds to figure out who housed that heart: my Aunt Joann.

My first memory of her was when I was about five years old and we were in New Jersey for my Uncle Bill's 50th birthday party. She had planned a surprise party and the only thing I remember is her coming out of her bedroom, hair done and HUGE (hey, she lived in New Jersey and it was 1985, it's the perfect recipe for big hair), wearing a Crayola-blue sweater adorned with sequins. Remember folks, it was the '80s. She was the hostess with the mostess and smiling the whole time. I'm pretty sure I got sent to bed directly after the "Surprise!" because it was a grown-up's party and who wants a five-year-old weaving around their legs when they're trying to get their drink on and tell crude jokes?

Aunt Joann was an exceptional woman who had an amazing and exciting life. She was full of stories! She worked for the local police department during my lifetime but when she was young, she was a rollerskating waitress at a drive-in! I didn't discover that until very recently and I think it's awesome. She and Uncle Bill lived and traveled everywhere and managed to have four kids along the way. They settled in New Jersey and really made a terrific life for themselves there.

She was worldly in my eyes and yet the most down-to-earth soul I'd ever known. I could talk to her in a way I could never talk to my mom; she put me at ease and she was that way with everybody. Over the course of about four years, I took one cousin from my dad's family and four different friends with me to visit them in New Jersey and they all came away feeling like part of the family because of Aunt Joann's open-arms demeanor. She was a bright, generous and warm soul that always seemed to have a glow about her. She tried damn hard to never see the negative in anything just to keep people smiling around her; she hated to see people sad or angry.

Aunt Joann passed away in 2001. I was in town that whole week and through the viewings and burial. Second hardest time in my life, hands down. I was dealing with my own loss and at the same time trying to be strong for those around me, like my cousin Bill - with whom I was staying - and his pregnant wife, Debbie. Inside, I was a basket case, but on the outside I stayed as stoic as possible. I did the same thing when I lost my dad. It was easier to shut down and internalize my struggle than burden anyone else with it. She'd have smacked me in the back of the head for it but I also knew she'd understand my reasons.

I never grasped the full scope of her effect on people until the calling hours at the funeral home. Through both sets of calling hours, from start to finish, there was a line out the door of people wishing to pay their respects. Friends, friends of friends, the cashier at the local grocery store, business professionals, former co-workers, neighbors, family from across the country...anybody and everybody she ever came in contact with, it seemed. She talked and welcomed into her circle just about anybody. That's just who she was. She made no apologies for it and even took some good-natured razzing for it but it never slowed her down. She loved hard and loved unfailingly.

Not a day goes by that I don't think of her. I still have all the letters she wrote me during high school and college. We wrote a lot of letters. She didn't have a computer and thus didn't email so snail mail was our thing. When she died, I left a little letter in her casket. It seemed fitting. I wish I had a way to let her know that her effect on me is everlasting: I learned that it's okay to love and it's okay to show your true colors, no matter what people may say. Love who you are and be proud of who you are, but most importantly be happy with who you are.

She is a heart that never quit.

The Craziest Thing I Did For Love

I've done a lot of stupid things for "love." I've quietly ignored his nerdy attempts at being a playa tendency to stray, I've put up with his indiscreet boinking inappropriate relationships with other girls - and this is TWO SEPARATE GUYS - because he claimed they were just friends (yes, I knew better), and I've wasted a year of my high school life thinking we still had a chance. All stupid things. Time NOT well-wasted.

I've even said no to love because I was scared. To this day I kinda kick myself in the shin for that, for not exploring that love a little more. I wouldn't want it to change where I am now but I have the feeling it could have been a little slice of wonderful amid all the crap I was dealing with back then.

But you're not here to hear my tragic little stories, are you? You're here to read all about the chance I took, the leap of faith I had to make, all in the name of L-O-V-E. Well hang on to your hats, ladies and gents, here's the non-Reader's Digest version.

It was the very beginning of September 2001 and I was about to begin my senior year at Slippery Rock. I was living in an on-campus apartment with my three roommates: L, K, & J. A picture of my dawgs, for reference. I'm second from the left.



We decided to have a Labor Day soiree in the name of loving to party and J decided to invite her boyfriend up. He, in turn, decided to invite his friend up. His friend, as I was told, was visiting his mom in Pittsburgh for the week. It was a booty call set-up semi-blind date. I was single, he was single, blah blah blah.

So I'm flitting about for two hours prior to their arrival, doing everything in my power to look gooooooood for this guy. I put enough product in my hair to shelac a 757 together, my Gap "Dream" all over me and my clothes, make up, the whole nine yards. I changed shirts three times. Then I get a call from our balcony that our guests had arrived. I took a deep breath and headed out to the balcony, smokes in hand (because it was necessary to smoke whenever one was out on the balcony) and I took in the sight of my future husband.

To be honest, his attire isn't much to talk about. Black jeans (yes, black jeans in the early '01s...he need some couture assistance), grey flannel button-down, beat-up Asics. Oh, and a Dale Earnhardt ballcap. Strapping young fellow. Well-dressed? Not so much. But oh, his face. His eyes, his smile, his deceptively confident air. I was smitten.

After J and I procured the alcohol for the evening, we all piled into the Hoopty Van Deusen (read: J's 90-something Dodge Caravan) and made our way to L's boyfriends place for the bonfire. The object of my affection and I talked all evening and that turned into a...um...well...ya see, the thing is, back then, I was, ummmm, a fun-loving girl.

ANYWAY.

The next morning, we went to Eat 'N Park for breakfast. Then he and J's boyfriend headed back to Pittsburgh with promises of hanging out later that week. I got a phone call later that afternoon - well, J did - from her boyfriend stating that he had "a little lost puppy dog on his hands" that wouldn't "stop talking about Darcie." :-)

J and I surprised them on Wednesday when we showed up at the porn shop J's boyfriend worked at. Then we agreed to all go out Thursday night. We hit up Dave & Busters and then went to a lookout on Mt. Washington. It was here that he promised me he'd be back - to stay - soon. Here's the view we had when he made this promise:



Friday I went home to work and Saturday, after work, I drove down to Pittsburgh to spend the night with him again. I also got to meet his mom - and go bar-hopping with her - and his mom's fiance. I'm sure she thought I was a floozy though, since the next time she saw me was the next morning in different clothes, looking like I hadn't slept all that much. Heh.

What she didn't know was that standing in her driveway, tearfully saying good-bye to her eldest son, was her future daughter-in-law. Hubby came back two months later, right before Thanksgiving. He traveled to New Jersey to meet my family for the holiday and when he came back, he moved into the apartment with me. In February, we moved back to my mom's house and we got engaged in April. It was such a whirlwind!

We married on October 19, 2002. It was a small, private ceremony in my mom's living room. I didn't wear a wedding dress, I wore a buttercream yellow gown, he wore a suit, and we each had one attendant. There was an informal reception afterwards with a much bigger crowd. That night, we watched Game 1 of the World Series between the San Francisco Giants and the Anaheim Angels. A picture of our wedding, a mere 11 months after our first "date."



We honeymooned in Orlando, Florida, hitting up Disney World and Universal Studios. We stopped by Washington, D.C. on our way back. We had such a blast on that trip. We love road trips, we've taken three since then. We moved out to California in May 2003 and it's been happily ever after since then!

Everyone said we were crazy. We wouldn't last, it was too quick, yadda yadda yadda. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?! That's right bitches. We'll be married six years this fall. Two wonderful kids. A cat. His and Hers vehicles. We're that annoyingly happy couple who have fun all the damn time and can even laugh at our misfortunes. Guess we weren't so crazy, were we?

Just imagine

In light of reading a new friend's LiveJournal post and enduring the tough week I've had, I thought I'd take a humorous look at motherhood...or, if you're a SAHD, fatherhood.

Those of us who stay home with the kids really do have to wear dozens of hats in a day. Our job is 24/7, we're the sole owners/managers/underlings that run the HomeShow. We're chefs, nurses, singers, actors, artists, movie projectionists, librarians, chauffers, narrators, playground directors, teachers, pet groomers, maintenance staff, laundry personnel, and chief confidant to all persons within the four walls. We're also the police, wardens of the Time Out Cell Block, politicians, mediators, seamstresses (seamspeople? seamspersons?), and bartenders. Bully for us!

Sometimes, I feel like I lose myself in the shuffle of small hands and feet, crayons and diapers, but when the sun goes down and my kids go to bed I take a deep breath and watch my babies sleep. That's when I find myself again. I can slow down and really enjoy what we have.

We don't have much, those who know us or have been reading my blog long enough know that. But we do have is love and laughter and we have an abundance of both. We may not live in the best neighborhood (although for Hayward, we could do much, much worse), and we may not drive the nicest car or wear high-end clothes, but we smile and laugh and love all day long and honestly, I'll take that over possessions any day!

So I guess what I'm saying here is that amid all the chaos, budget drama and worries, I'm really thankful what what I have.

My Truth About Motherhood

If there is one thing I wish someone had told me about motherhood, it is this: your child will force you to face your flaws and become a better person. Your child will not only make you work on yourself as a whole, but want to change yourself.

I wish I'd known how proud I'd be when my oldest child said her first word at 23 months. I always assumed I'd have a perfectly normal kid. No one told me that sometimes, kids aren't perfect. Who knew?! My daughter had/has a speech delay, she's about eight months behind the curve.

I wish I'd been prepared for how hard and how often she would cry. I wish I'd known there'd be nights I wouldn't sleep AT ALL. I never thought I'd spend over a year feeding her peanut butter sandwiches and chicken because that's all she'd eat. I never knew that a little cut on the forehead would send me into a full-on panic, half-convinced she'd need stitches (when in fact, it scabbed over and healed within a week), making me the saddest mommy ever.

I wish someone would have told me how hard I'd have to control my anger every time she disobeyed me. I didn't know how hard I'd have to work on not criticizing her at every turn; my mom did this to me for years and I always swore I'd never let that happen to my daughter. I struggle with this daily.

The truth about motherhood is that it shakes you to your core. It brings every imaginable emotion to the surface and forces you to stare at it, like a gaping wound. It makes you acknowledge your flaws and your strengths. It turns you into a lioness, protecting her cub on a very primal level. It makes you question your abilities as not just a parent, but as a member of society.

But what I really wish someone had warned me about...is how I'd have to choke back tears of joy and pride when, after a long day of potty training, reading nine Dr. Seuss books three times each, and a screaming match over eating two bites of chicken for dinner, my three-year-old would run up behind me on the floor, throw her arms around my neck and say, "Mama! Mama! I love you."

Check out these links to understand the truth about motherhood...
Advice from the Girlfriends
The Parent Bloggers Network