Mother's Day postpartum

Today marks the 9th Mother's Day without my mom.  Crazy to think its been that long!

My first few Mother's Day after she died were really difficult.  I took those days to just be sad.  Cry.  Remember.  Grieve.  Then I got to thinking that I did not want to be sad on a day of such remembrance, and instead I wanted to honor my mom.   Celebrate her!  Of course, both things can exist, and they sure do.

One thing that I have adopted as a way to celebrate my mom is to brighten someone else's day with flowers.  I used to buy my mom all of her spring flowers for Mother's Day so I am always sure to get myself a hanging basket in her memory as well as gift someone else with flowers.  I try to pick someone who might also find this day to be a difficult one.  The first year, I gifted flowers to a coworker who has a strained relationship with her son.  The year after, another coworker who had recently lost her mom.   Followed by another coworker who lost her mom to suicide.  Last year, it was a male coworker whose mom died years ago.  This year, I am going to bring flowers to my niece who has a strained relationship with her own mom.  Its a perfect way to honor my beautiful mother and to keep her memory alive.  To think of all the people she continues to touch even years after her death is pretty astounding.  

Mother's Day is my own sacred holiday for just me and my mom.  All the other holidays and significant days (like her Birthday or death day) has me checking in with all my family members to acknowledge both my mom's life and also our loss.  But Mother's Day, I keep to myself.  Quietly celebrating the woman who gave me life and helped me be who I am today.  I miss her everyday.  

Happy Mother's Day!

Connecting Again (Part 2)

Christmas of 2021 prompted me to reach out to my niece Shayna, who has been absent from the family for 20 years or more!  After Leanne (her mom) and Bill got divorced, Leanne brainwashed Shayna into believing bad things about Bill and our family. Leanne withheld cards and presents and even stooped so low as to falsify an email from Shayna to Bill saying she wanted nothing to do with her dad.  Feeble attempts at reaching out has fallen flat.  Too much time, too much anxiety, and too much hurt has prevented any real relationship from growing.

Well, I got real brave and decided to apologize for past mistakes and invited Shayna to reconnect by going out to dinner.  She was brave herself and agreed!

With excitement and apprehension, we set a date and did not cancel.  Though we both were secretly hoping the other would do just that.  First meeting was awkward.  A hug and some nervous laughter preceded our meal, but once we sat down, it was surprisingly easy and natural.  She mentioned how she couldn't stop looking at me, seeing herself in my face.  I couldn't stop staring at her for the beautiful young woman she had become.  Regret was present for both of us as we realized all the wasted years that we can not get back.  I missed watching her grow.  She missed my guidance and love when her own mother could not provide that for her.  

But we have now, and we have decided we are going to build a relationship from here.  Our talk was crazy relatable.  Our lives are eerily similar.  And now that we are connecting, perhaps Shayna and her dad can reconnect as well.  They need each other, and time is limited.  

So yeah, reconnecting with my family has been wonderful.  Yet Bittersweet.  With reconnection come the reminders of the losses.  People I've lost.  Time that has been lost.  The only thing to do is move forward from here, knowing better and doing better.  

Setting out to 2022 with the intention to be the best version of me I can be.  Cheers!

Connecting Again (Part 1)

 Christmas 2021 was a milestone for me and my family.  For the first time since my mom died, eight years ago, we gathered together as a whole family on a holiday.  Since my mom has been gone, we have pretty much ignored any holidays, and certainly have not gotten together on any holiday.  For the first few years, Christmas did not even exist for us.  Never have we acknowledged a Thanksgiving as a family.  All doing our separate things.  Sure, there might be a stray text or perhaps even a phone call, but to celebrate and enjoy has been foreign to my family for eight years. 

This year, it just kind of came together.  I had plans to go to my dad's house certainly.  Naturally Bill would be there.  Then I invited my aunt Dorie, who is a very youthful 86!  Then John came on board on the 23rd, and finally Jim decided to come.

My energy and motivation is very lacking so I was quite up front and told all that I would not be making or providing food.  Just a gathering would be sufficient.  Though I felt a little guilty about my lack of bringing more festivity, I was happy to just have the family together on a holiday.  And bless Jim's girlfriend Shelly, who brought cheese and crackers.  And bless Bill's lady friend Judi who brought over 1/2 ham and some other leftovers.  It all came together.  Though it wasn't perfect, it was lovely and nice and wonderful.  

Even Amy came, which was her first family function of mine that she has attended.  It felt complete to have her there.  It could be material for a whole separate blog post, but she was the recipient of John's foot flakes when he took off his sock to show his healing burned up foot.  His skin flaked off and flew right at her face!  Was a funny memory for sure.  What a hazing!  

Though it was only a two hour gathering, it was a very important two hours.   We had our first family Christmas in 8 years, and hopefully it won't be our last.  We can build from here.  

Time Marches On

Its been about 3 1/2 years since my mom passed.  Some days, I still have a huge wave of sadness wash over me, especially when I have a bit of happy news to share.

Or sad news.
Or when I am bored.
Or when I hear a song that reminds me of her.
Or when I see a commercial I know she would hate.
Or when I watch a TV show we used to watch together.
 Or when......

You get the idea.

My mom was my person.  She was the one person who completely got me.  An unspoken comfort.

Safe.  So safe.

It is so hard to put into words the emptiness I feel, and even though time is marching on, some days I feel like the grief is still so raw.  I came here to blog, but find myself completely stuck to accurately put down in words how I feel.

I just miss her.

Becoming a Dad.

In December, my dad was diagnosed with "Advanced Cirrhosis of the liver" and was initially given "weeks to months to live".  Since then, he has quit drinking, has started to take care of himself, and is making a miraculous rebound.  Unbelievable how a man can abuse his body for over 70 years, and in just a matter of a few weeks of good self care, can return to "normal" health.  Though he is pretty much Velcro-ed to the couch, depressed, very low energy, it is nice to see him sober.  The question begs to be answered of why he was unable to quit drinking when my mom was still alive and when there was a family to appreciate.  Especially since quitting drinking for him has been seemingly easy and problem free.

For the first time in, like, ever my dad is becoming....well, a dad.  He has struggled with alcoholism my whole life making booze far more of a priority than family life.  If I ever had a problem, it was Mom I would turn to (unless I had a car question of some kind, and even then, I often sought out other sources).  She may or may not relay whatever whoa I was having to my dad if and when he was sober, but seldom did I converse with my dad on an individual basis.

Just the other day, I was having a stressful, crabby kind of day.  Issues with a potential house I so desperately want to buy was clouding my mood.  My dad is providing me with a little bit of financial help, and on this day we were driving to the bank.  I was crabby.  My irritability did not go unnoticed by Dad, and I told him my troubles.  I told my Dad my troubles.  For the first time in my life.  He listened.  He sympathized.  He reassured.  He provided emotional support doing  everything a kind and patient parent would do.  And it felt good, nice, even natural.  Its so nice to have a sober Dad finally after all these years.  Just wish it could have happened so much sooner.

Perhaps he will live his last few yeas alcohol free as a way to show his true self to us kids.  And just maybe when his time is called to meet my mom up in Heaven, he will enter to live a sober eternity with the love of his life.  Finally giving my mom a life she deserved.

Family Dinner

July 24th would have been my parents' 49th wedding Anniversary.  My dad was having a hard time around this date (even though they never spent their Anniversarys together).  Still, it was another milestone.  Another first.  Another absence noticed.

So, we decided to have a family dinner out at a restaurant with the whole family, including significant others and Dorie.  Even when Mom was alive, we never all got together at a restaurant before.  She would have enjoyed that.  Days prior to the dinner, I was kind of dreading it knowing it would likely be just a drunken dinner filled with anger, sadness, and worry about how the drunks are going to get home safely.  Well, to my surprise, dinner was very pleasant.  Few memories were shared as well as some laughs.  It was nice.  Nicer still that Dad bought all of our meals.

There was one very noticeable empty chair.  Like for real.  There were 7 of us all together (Jim brought his girlfriend), and we were seated at a table for 8.  So there was a very prominent empty chair, and it was right next to me.  Right where Mom would have been sitting.  Or maybe she was sitting there.  Maybe the chair was empty as a reminder that even though she was not there physically with us, she was there in spirit.  At least that is what I would like to believe.

My Valentine

Every Valentine's Day I get a special Valentine in the mail from a man who loves me so much.  My Daddy.  What makes it extra special is that I know my dad goes shopping, picks out the card, and even addresses the envelope himself.  One would have to know my dad in order to understand the complexity and motivation all of that entails for him.  He is not one to do anything for himself.

His cards always make me giggle.  Usually they are are meant for a juvenile daughter as seen below:

Or the Disney Princesses:

In his eyes, I will always be his little girl.  This year, though, the card was a little different.  It was meant for a more mature reader, but it was meant for a daughter to give to her father, not the other way around:

Either way you look at it, the message is still the same, and the "error" makes it all that more endearing.  I save each of his Valentine's cards as they are probably the only thing that has been given to me by him and him alone.  He does it without any help or coaxing from my mom.  I do believe he even places the stamp on the envelope and places the card in the mailbox himself.  And for those reasons, it makes my Valentine's Day cards from my dad, the most important cards I will ever receive. 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Freedom

My niece finally moved out.  This makes me both ecstatic and a little bit sad.  Ecstatic because I have my house to myself again.  I can pee with the door open, move around without wondering if I am disturbing the resident in my basement, and leave my house without worrying if there will be a drug deal or a robbery (or worse) at my house.  I have reason to believe she acquired a gun so the potential certainly existed for some shady shenanigans.

However, I really wanted to be the person who turned my niece around.  The hero.  The person she remembered to have been the only one who believed in her when everybody else abandoned her.  The one she thanked, years from now, when she was somewhat successful because of the guidelines I set up for her when she came here. 

.........The one that would visit me in the nursing home when I have nobody left...........

Not all bad came of this, though.  She did get a job which is a big step.  Whether or not she'll keep the job remains to be seen, but at least she is a productive member of society for the time being.  She seems to be be free from shooting up (though I think she is using synthetics).  The vial of liquid turned out to be........water (though I don't doubt her mom would have lied for her).

And the manner in which she left my house was not confrontational or difficult.  It was a mutual decision once she got her job in Cloquet.  She can't drive; therefore, getting to and from her job would have proved quite challenging.  Plus, I kept the invitation open of visiting me on weekends or whenever. 

At any rate, I am happier, considerably less stressed, and am embracing my ability to pee with the door open.

Playing Hero

Rescuer.  That is who I am.  Rescuing nearly every member of my family out of whatever crisis they may be enduring has been a constant in my life since as far back as I can remember.  Be it money, babysitting, advice, moral support, or a place to stay.  I rescue because A). They need rescuing and B). It feels good.  Like Phoebe from Friends said, "There is no selfless good deed".  She argued that people do good deeds for the sole purpose of feeling good, therefore concluding that even doing good is selfish.

And really, what is wrong with that? 

By making myself feel uplifted, the receiving people reap the benefits so its a win-win situation.  Full circle you might say.

But there is a downside of being the hero.  With that comes expectation that the receiver will succeed in that if you help them out, they will flourish.  As in the case with the Touhy family from the Blindside movie where they took in a homeless teen who went on to become a professional football player.  He strived because of the opportunities the Touhy's provided, their belief in him, and his own will to succeed.

Though that was a "true story", real life doesn't always work out like Hollywood. 

Finding a box of needles and a vial of an unknown fluid in my niece's belongings the other day just about crushed me.  Sure I was concerned for her safety, but really, it was more about me.  I felt like a failure.  I provided her with a place to stay when her own parents would not welcome her.  And beyond that, I laid down some pretty strict ground rules which she not only agreed to, but also welcomed.  I couldn't "save" her.

Then I put my work hat on and reminded myself that it wasn't me.  It was her.  Her choices, her decisions.  I can provide the opportunities, but she needs to have Michael Oher's will to succeed.  I can only do so much, and like I said before, the rest is up to her.

Now, that vial is in being tested to find out what that fluid was (methadone?, morphine?).  Nikki claims it was water which she used to flush out her needles when she was using.  She says she hasn't used in several weeks, and that this box happened to be in her belongings when she moved her stuff here.  When she found it in her belongings, she "freaked", didn't know what to do, and put them aside.  She says this with sincerity, and I want to believe her.  However, I am also realistic and skeptical of this crafty drug user who is residing in my home.

We're still waiting for the test results of what that fluid was.  If it is water, I will continue playing rescuer.  If it isn't water, well, I may have to hang that hat up on this one.

Learning to Share

My whole life I have never really had to share.  I had my own bedroom growing up, and having 3 brothers, I never even had to share clothes, belongings, or even toys really. Never have I had a roommate let alone a house guest if only for a week or so.  What's mine has always been, well.......mine.  And I like it that way.

So now that my niece has moved in, I have to learn to share.  Its an adjustment for sure.  For example, I came home from work today intending on doing laundry only to find the dryer full of all of her clothes.  She is not even here to remove them.  So I can either remove them myself or wait a bit longer to do my own clothes.  At least it is a good excuse to postpone the laundry :)

Sharing is not easy when I have spent 37 years doing what I want to do when I want to do it.  However, sharing my stuff is far easier than sharing my space.  Gone are the days of bathing (and peeing) with the door open. 

On the upside, my cats have a buddy when I am not home.  I have an extra body to help with shoveling or hauling in groceries.  Selfishly, it gives me peace of mind knowing I am doing the right thing by helping out a struggling family member.

And, if I die or take ill, I have someone who will be right here to find my lifeless body so the cats don't eat me.

Stands to Reason

My parents are the most difficult people in the world to buy gifts for, but I think my dad even has my mom trumped in that department.  Buying gifts for him is extremely difficult.  Every year at this time I get a call from my brother who asks me for ideas.  Of course I keep the good ideas for myself, and by the time those are used up, I am fresh out of good ideas. 

So when that predictable annual call came this year, I, naturally, had no ideas.  My brother called my mom, my aunt (my dad's sister), and me all for advice on what to get Dad.  We all came up empty.

Then my brother informs me that he is going to call on someone he sought advice from last year.  Someone who gave him some pretty decent ideas. 

The local Bartender.

My brother and I chuckled at the absurd reality that the Bartender knows our dad better than anybody in our entire family.  But the fact is, he has always spent more time at the bar anyway, so it stands to reason I guess.

Up to Her

My niece Nikki and I have always had a close bond.   Her circumstances were not the greatest being raised by an alcoholic father and a drug addicted mother. Her parents eventually separated which led to her mom being in several unhealthy and abusive relationships, which Nikki was witness to and probably victim of.  Her mom lost custody so Nikki went to live with her alcoholic father.  There, her life wasn't horrible, but it certainly wasn't perfect.  Nikki basically had no supervision from a very early age (she even landed in the hospital for malnutrition since she lived off of Doritos and soda).

Enter me.  As a child, I took her on special vacations to Wisconsin Dells and Valleyfair.  She spent days (and even weeks) at my house in the summer.  I was able to provide her with a little bit of stability, if even for a few days.  We were buds.

Then life happened. Nikki became a victim of her past, blamed her parents, and began acting out.  She spent time in several treatment facilities, but none seemed to impact her.  In fact, she began cutting on herself, drinking, using drugs (including needles), and was quite promiscuous (with girls so at least no risk of pregnancy....whew!).  And she never completed school.

Recently she finished treatment for drugs and alcohol, but weeks after, ended up with a DUI and domestic assault charge against her then girlfriend. 

She is now homeless.  Not welcome at her mom's house, and not willing to live with her dad, she is now staying at the local homeless shelter.

She phoned me last night to get a ride to the shelter.  By the time I got back to her, she found her own ride there.  Since she had inquired earlier about living with me, and being denied, she did not inquire again.  And I did not offer.  Part of me wanted her to experience the shelter, see where her life is going, where her choices have got her.  Part of me was upset, disappointed, and a bit disgusted with her.  I had high hopes for that girl and wanted her to be successful. 

But then I couldn't sleep last night. 

After careful consideration, I decided to offer my home to my niece.  Oh, there will be rules.  Strict rules.  After 19 years of not having any rules, this may come as a bit of a shock to her, but if she doesn't abide by them, she will be evicted.  At least I attempted.  At least I tried.  The rest is up to her.

There will be a contract (including rent) and basic expectations (including getting a job and obtaining her GED).  It will be clear that I am not here to provide entertainment for her, but rather as a stepping stone to a better life. 

Like I said, I will provide the tools, the rest is up to her.

Out of Care and Concern for my Brother

My brother called me up frantically asking if I could pick up a prescription for him. Since he had to pick up his girlfriend from the airport, he would not be able to make it to the pharmacy before it closed.  Whatever medication it was, he could not wait until the next day to get it.  So I obliged, and agreed to pick up his prescription for him.

Before calling me to get it for him, my brother called my parents' house to get my phone number.  Of course, my mom questioned why he wanted my number so my brother told her about the prescription.

Now, my mom was unaware that my brother was on any kind of medication and was rather curious what he was taking especially because he has a reputation for misusing prescription medications.  As any mother would do, she phoned me up and told me to be sure to let her know what this medication was that my brother needed so urgently. 

After I picked up the prescription, I immediately wondered how on Earth I was going to tell my mom what I had discovered. 

Would I be breaching my brother's confidence?

Would he want his mom to know (let alone his little sister)?

Could I keep a straight face when I told my mom that my brother was taking........


Viagra?

My Momma and Me

Who would have thunk that such a tiny critter could cause such a huge scare for my family. 

This is the culprit

Not the penny.  The tick on the penny so shown to illustrate the size of the tiny creature who caused havoc on my momma. 

My mom got sick.  Real sick.  So sick she called me to bring her to the ER on Saturday.  After tests and more tests, they found "nothing" and sent her home with a "stomach ulcer" and prescriptions for Maalox and Prilosec. 

Whatever.

Three days, 2 CT Scans, 1 Ultrasound, 2 Chest X-rays, 1 EKG, 3 urine tests, and about 30 vials of blood later, we have our answer.  Erhiculosis.  A tick borne illness similar to Lyme's Disease treatable with antibiotics.  WHEW!

Though it isn't all hunky dory.  In addition to Erhiculosis, she has pneumonia complicated by Emphysema, and another bacterial infection called H. Pylori. Other possibilities thrown around are concerning words  like "diabetes" and "oxygen tank".  Though the last two are unlikely, it remains scary stuff, but overall that news is way better than what could have been. 

Yes, we thought she could be at death's door, and wow, did it age my ever youthful mom.  Weak from dehydration and not eating for 4 days can do that to a person, but to see it done to my mom is petrifying.  A glimpse into what the future could hold.  Giving my mom a shower in the hospital is not something I ever thought I would be doing.  Seeing her so weak and vulnerable saddened me.  She is still in the hospital, but hopeful to be home soon with added strength and usual humor.

My dad has more important things to do, like keep the bar stool warm, so I have been running two households:  my own, and my mom's.  Dogs, cats, and fish to be fed and exercised.  Never mind my dad; he can fend for himself.  Though in his attempts to be helpful, he did unload the dishwasher.  Too bad the dishes were dirty and needed to be returned to their original position in the dishwasher.  It was a good attempt I guess.

If all of this has taught me anything, it has taught me that I am capable of handling a crisis situation.  In fact, I do pretty darn good in the midst of a crisis, and take charge when other's won't.  Especially when it comes to my mom.

See, she is more than my mom.  She is, in every sense of the word, my Best Friend.

My mom and I at my Aunt's Hawaiian themed wedding.

At yet another wedding

Saying I Love You

My family never utters those three words.  Its always implied and we all know we are loved.  We just never say "I love you" to one another.  The closest we get is the "Love ya" salutations on greeting cards. 

My Dad and I aren't super duper close, but we have always had a decent relationship.  His alcoholism has always been the first priority in his life which prevents our relationship from growing any deeper.  Ever since I moved out on my own, I get to see my dad mostly in his sober state which has been really nice. 


Me and my daddy taking a bubble bath :)

Today is Father's Day so I called home from work to wish him a Happy Father's Day.  Our conversation was brief, and by some random miracle, I ended our conversation with "I Love You".

Caught off guard, my dad kind of chuckled, said "Thank you, Doll" and that is how our conversation ended.  No "I love you, too".  Just a chuckle and a thanks.  But I opened the door for more "I love you's" to be spoken and maybe the next ones won't be quite so awkward.



The Oldest Brother

John, eight years my senior, taught me all I needed to know when growing up with three older brothers.  He taught me how to make the motorcycle and car noises with my mouth.  He taught me what a hattrick was while playing floor hockey in our basement.  (I think he enjoyed smacking me with the ball more than making a goal.)  Most importantly, he taught me all the names of the members from the band KISS.  He loved, and still does love, music.  He thought it was pretty cool that I could name all the KISS members from his poster hanging up in his room. 

He also taught me the correct usage for the term "Choice".  When I landed in the hospital for an over night stay due to walking pneumonia, my mom and aunt brought me a stuffed Cookie Monster.  Upon seeing it, I exclaimed, "Choice!"  Apparently all the nurses thought that was the cutest thing out of a one year old's mouth. 

Looks like I have two peacocks coming out of my head :)~

John is known to be rude, crude, and not very politically correct.  However, he has a deep respect for his immediate family so much so that he doesn't even smoke in front of his parents to this day.  He sees it as a sign of disrespect.  Out of all the brothers, I talk with John on the phone most often.  He calls me for advice on raising his daughter, he calls to hear about family gossip, and he always always makes the annual Christmas call for advice on what he should get as gifts for our parents.

My mom tells me I am pouting in this picture because I was not allowed cake until after the photo was taken. 

John has ebbed in and out from being favorite brother to being least favorite brother.  Now, all my brothers are "my favorite" each for their unique individual qualities they bring to my family.

The Middle Brother

 Because there is such a gap between my brothers and me, I don't have a whole lot of memories that do not involve them giving me bruises.  By the time I was old enough to have lasting memories, my brothers were all at the age where they were hanging with their friends and being a little more independant.  For some reason, memories of Jim are hard to come by.

Jim is my middle brother, seven years older than me.  Often cranky and mischievous, he filled the role of Middle Child perfectly.  He demands that you walk on egg shells while in his presence even today.  However, His quick temper is outshone by his quick wit.  Jim is the family comedian and risk taker.  Be it sending away for a ventriloquist dummy as a child to learning how to SCUBA dive as an adult, Jim is always up for the next challenge.

Jim served as the little devil on my shoulder.  He encouraged me to bring out my devilish side on more than one occasion.  Most of the time, the angel on the other shoulder won the fight.  One time, though, Jim set up a fight between me and my neighborhood best friend.  He wanted us to duke it out so egged us on until we ended up in a full blown fist fight.  My neighbor went home in tears and I earned some brother bragging rights.  Did I mention that the neighbor I sent home crying was a boy?  My brothers sure were proud of me, but I couldn't say the same for myself.

My brothers and I used to always take baths together.  You can see by Jim's little grin that he is likely withholding that blue toy thing from me probably trying to get me to cry.  But as you can see, I was all smiles.

I wonder how old we were when we stopped taking baths together.  At least my mom was nice enough to cover up the important parts for a photo.

The Youngest Brother

My last post gave me an idea to blog about each one of my brothers.  I have favorite and not so favorite memories of each one of them.  I Thought I'd take some rare photos featuring just that one brother and me while putting together a few lingering memories.

Bill is the youngest of the 3 brothers, but is six years older than me.  When I was born, he was in Kindergarten and could not wait to get home to hold me.  Believe it or not, The Brothers, as they were not so affectionately called, used to argue over who got to hold me.  Since Billy was in half day Kindergarten, he was excited to come home and have me all to himself without having to share with the other two.  This is one of my mom's favorite photos:


Both babies were so tuckered out

Once it was my turn for Kindergarten, Billy was in the 6th grade and in the same school as me.  As a kid, I was a mommy's girl and did not want to go to school.  In fact, I was a pre-school drop out because I would rather stay home with mommy.   One day on the way to the car to go to pre-school, I fell and skinned my knee.  Mom couldn't resist my bawling and let me stay home from pre-school from then on :) 

My tears didn't work nearly as well once I got into the big leagues.  Yes, I cried for 2 weeks straight in Kindergarten. It was my big brother's job to ensure I was doing OK on the bus ride to school.  Not wanting to look like a sensitive brother, he decided to yell at me while I was sobbing on the bus.  He called me a big baby which didn't help matters any.  Like any little sister would, when I got home from school, I tattled on him!  He got yelled at when he got home, alright.  Mom told him he shouldn't yell at me, but he should comfort me instead.

The next day on the bus as I sat sobbing, my sweet brother took me upon his knee and began bouncing me as you would an infant.  Well, I guess I was acting like an infant.  Naturally, Mom asked me how the bus ride went, and naturally I told her that he bounced me on his knee.  Poor boy got yelled at once again for treating me like a baby.  Actually, he didn't get yelled at, per se, he just was informed that bouncing me wasn't necessary.  He can never do anything right.

Don't tell the other brothers, but Bill was probably always my favorite.  He is still the brother I am closest to, and he is the first one I run to when I need something fixed.  He runs to me whenever he needs something too, which is usually money.  He owes me the world right now which is why he would bed over backwards to help me however he can.  He is by far the most sensitive brother and the least social of any of us.  Life has been a constant struggle for him, though that is not to say he hasn't made some of those struggles for himself.  I just want to see him content for once.

Ready for my 9th Grade Dance.  Complete with puffy shoulders, permed side pony tail, and acne.

He once told his own daughter that he hopes she grows up to be like me. That was the best compliment any brother could ever say about his little sister.

Things I Learned From my Daddy

After writing Things I Learned From my Mama, I figured I had better be an equal opportunity daughter and write about those things I learned from my Father.  From watching my dad, as well as my brothers, I have learned how not live.  I've seen and felt the effects their behaviors and actions have on those they love, and I made the very conscious decision at a very early age that I was not going to be like them.  However, its not all bad, and my dad has certainly passed on some very important life lessons which I will now pass on to you via this post:

• Children can be your slaves.  Now I know my dad loves us to death, and he probably loves us more now than when we were kids.  When we were young, though, it was evident that my dad had children to accomplish his neglected household duties.  We were his car washers, lawn mowers, snowplowerss, and remote controlers.  Yes, remote controls.  For those of you who are not old enough to remember a time without remote controls, there was a time when people had to get up from their sitting position and change the channel.  *Gasp*. I know, right?  Well, my dad would call me from my cozy bedroom where I was playing with my dollies to change the channel for him.  Not just once a day, more like once an hour.  Or more.  The inventor of the remote control is God.
• Be on time.  Honestly we didn't do a whole lot as a family unit (in fact, I cannot remember one thing we did as an entire family....).  Once in a while, though, we had plans to go somewhere or do something with my dad after work.  Or even just waiting for the family meal (yes, there was a time that still occurred).  And we would wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Wait for my dad to make it home from his after work adventures.  After a while, we didn't wait anymore and just went about our business.  From this, I learned how inconsiderate it is to be late and strive very hard not to make people wait for me. In turn, I am chronically early.  Too early most of the time.
• Be assertive.  My mom will sometimes try to put me down by saying something on the order of "you are just like your father" or "you have a bit of your father in you".  I take this as a compliment because my mom is very passive and my dad is very aggressive.  Combine the two, and you get assertive.  Me!  I stand up for myself and am proud to have a bit of my father in me.
• Its who you know.  My dad knows a lot of people from many different trades and skill sets.  He has got out of speeding tickets and other traffic violations because a buddy pulled him over.  Most household projects were completed by friends he knew, and there was always a good deal on a used car.
• Pay for the job when its done.  Because most of his friends did the little odd jobs around the house, Dad would often pay for the job up front.  Big mistake.  There are still unfinished jobs at my parents' house that he paid for in full.  It seemed strange for me, a teenager, to be lecturing my dad on the importance of paying for the work when the work was completed.  I was adamant about this, and yet, he didn't listen.  Sadly, I didn't  learn this lesson completely as I have already paid for the removal of my skunk who still has not been trapped.
• Showering is overrated.  My dad does not shower by conventional standards choosing his own showering schedule.  Yet, he does not appear dirty or even have body odor.  That does not mean I intend to adopt his same showering schedule, but its still something I felt the need to share for some strange reason.

I am a perfect blend of my mom and dad, and I feel very blessed to still be learning from them.

Things I Learned From my Mama

I don't have funny kid stories to share, but once in a while I do have funny parent stories to share.  We all learn a lot from our mamas who teach us some of life's most important lessons.  Here are just a few my mom taught to me.

• "You have to suffer to be beautiful".  My mom's version of "maybe she's born with it; maybe its Maybelline"  was one of the most common phrases uttered in my childhood.  Usually this could be heard over my whining when getting my hair permed by a do it yourself perm in the kitchen.  Also spoken when getting my hair combed or braided.  Unfortunately some of us  have to suffer more than others; I have suffered plenty and am still not beautiful.
• "Never tell a lie.  Unless you have to".  Another common mama phrase.  This lesson was first learned after I bought a toy "water wiggler" from a corner store.  Once I got that slippery gadget home, I accidentally got a hole in it causing it to leak water all over the place deeming it unfun.  Mom suggested I return it and prompted me to say it had a leak when I bought it.  She followed that up with the wise life lesson, and lo and behold, it worked.  I got myself a new water wiggler.



Water wigglers, though I think when I was young, they were called "snakes".

• "Your eyes look funny".  This was the single most commonly spoken sentence of my brother's adolescence.  Mom was, and still is,  the ultimate pot detective.  She knew immediately upon looking at my brother that he had been toking up.  Maybe that is why I never tried the stuff.  However, Mom was also a pro at noticing when I didn't feel well or had the flu.
• "Think outside the box".  OK, she never really said that, but she sure has demonstrated it over and over again.  Just a few years ago, she substituted her broken denture teeth with the white rocks from the fish aquarium.  They worked like a charm, her dentist was impressed, and they are so durable she still has them as a reserve pair in case her new dentures break. 
• Cookies make everything better.  Her cookie jar is never empty of homemade chocolate chip cookies.  Once in a while, peanut butter cookies or Oatmeal raisin cookies make an appearance, but my favorite is her chocolate chip ones fresh from the oven.  And they do make everything better!  She puts the Keebler Elves to shame.

Those are a few of my favorite lessons handed down to me from my mother.  Though I don't have children of my own, I hear myself telling the kids I work with about "suffering to be beautiful" when I am helping them untangle their knotted hair.  It feels good to pass on some of my  mama's wisdom, and now I shared some of it with you!