Why does weird shit happened to me?

Why does weird shit happened to me?

So it’s like any other Friday night when my husband is not home. I stay up late doing random things. This Friday night I am watching “I love Lucy” and painting my nails an obnoxious shade of blue. Laughing from time to time glancing at the TV but also concentrating on my toes and the small almost not there pinkie toe. It’s almost 12:30 am and I’m rather enjoying my little night to myself.

 All of a sudden out of the blue I hear a noise. Just a little noise. Maybe the wind blowing at the door a little or someone walking up stairs I can’t really tell but I notice I am more acute to all the little noises when my husband is away. You never know. So I ignore the noise and keep on painting my toes. I live in an apartment building so this noise could honestly being a number of things. I prop my feet up on the pillow and enjoy some banter back and forth from Ricky to Lucy when I hear the noise again. This time I mute the TV to better pinpoint where it’s coming from. As soon as I push mute it goes away. I turn the show back on and a few minutes after the noise starts. I mush mute to hear where it’s coming from and it stops. I leave the TV on and head into the kitchen to look around outside the windows and to try to see if I hear it anywhere else in the house. It’s definitely somewhere above or below me in the apartment complex around my bedroom area. I notice it’s starting to rain now. I grab a glass of water and tell myself it’s just the howling from the wind.

I lay into bed and turn the TV down a bit but just enough so I can still hear the program but still listen for the noise. I hear it again but this time it’s more of a whimper. I look out my window and realize I had left it open. The rain is really coming down at this point and I figure I should shut the window turn up the TV and enjoy the rest of my night. When I go to close the window I hear it again. It’s loader and it seems to be coming from outside. I look and it’s dark and with all the rain I can’t see anything. I strain my eyes and the noise gets very load. Its sounds like a cat. The way a cat will wine when it’s scared or panicked. That’s the way it sounded. It kept squealing and in my head I imagined it being a poor small kitten alone outside in the rain and dark with its big kitty eyes trapped somewhere and being eaten by a coyote. Poor defenseless kitten. I sat back down for a moment and even though I have 2 dogs and no place to put a cat I couldn’t just leave it there in the rain to die a slow and painful death being ripped apart by a coyote.  I can still hear it at this point. The whimper is getting louder. “FINE” I say to myself. I’ll keep it inside for one night and at least it will be out of the rain and figure out what I will do with it for tomorrow. I grab my husbands oversized jacket and thought it would be long enough seeing as I just had a night shirt on. It would do to just run and grab cat and go inside.

I put the hood on and some flip flops  grab a flash light and head outside. It’s really raining at this point but I can pinpoint where the noise is coming from. I follow the noise and it’s coming almost right under my bedroom window to the left. I approach slow not really knowing if it’s a cat or what and why it would be screaming. As I near the corner I close my eyes a bit not knowing what I would find. I look and slowly open my eyes and what I find is not some poor or defenseless kitty. It’s not even an animal. What I find right under my bedroom window made me scream “OH MY GOD” It was a man. A man bending over a women with her skirt up and his pants right down his ankles. Her shoved up against the wall and them doing the nasty RIGHT under my window. It was not a poor defenseless kitty but sex. I realize I’m standing there in a nightshirt and how this must look. I didn’t know what to do. I screamed “OMIGOD, OMIGOD, Sorry I thought you were a cat” and I turn on my heal to go and I drop my flashlight. I don’t know why but in all panic I bent over to pick it up. At this point the girl pulls down her skirt and she said…”how embarrassing” and runs off to the other side of the apartments. I fumble trying to grab it and fall flat on my face in mud and water. I look up and with a naked man and his manhood out staring me in the face I scream and decide to abandon my flashlight. He reaches his hand down to help me up and I think all I was screaming was “OMIGOD…EW, EW, EW no go away.” I get my footing and start to walk/run away. It’s raining and I look back and I can hear him say….”miss you dropped your flashlight” “Keep it!” I yell back. I run inside and into my room and rush to close the window when I hear them both laughing at what had just happened. “did you see her face?” and they walk away and I slam the window shut. I can’t believe I just walked into what I just saw all because I wanted to save a poor little kitten.

This is just case and point on why a 30 year old should NOT be living in an apartment but rather her own house with her own fenced in back yard with her stuff she won’t randomly see people doing it on. Ok yeah I know I live in a college town and this isn’t forever and I should be getting my house soon but I think to myself…..”well I hope there are no random kitty’s in trouble because believe you me the coyote will just have a nice meal because there is no way in hell I’m doing that again.” With the window closed and the “I love Lucy” marathon going strong I think it’s best I just jump in the shower. I laugh to myself a little because I would be the person to walk into a random situation like that. I get out of the shower and head to the door to triple check it’s locked and head to bed. In the morning I can laugh at this a little thinking well…..least this will make for a great story. I make some coffee and head out to the mail box to check the mail when I open the door look down and see the flashlight sitting at my door with a note that said…”Sorry”  Not only did that mean the person doing it outside my window lives in my apartment building  but also that they recognized me. I, with all the fuss didn’t have much time to see his face but now have the constant embarrassment  of probably bumping into him some day but not really knowing who it is. REALLY? 

I feel it’s been like this my whole life. I run into all sorts of uncomfortable situations. If I don’t run into it I’m the one making the uncomfortable situation.  How…. when the cable guy came I inadvertently asked him out on a date?  How you ask? Talking out of my ass, that’s how,  But I’ll save that one for another blog. I could write a book, if I think back long enough on situations like this. Random run ins with random people. When I share some of them…”omigod guess what happened to me last night” my family members respond with….”now what?”  and it’s followed up with, “Only you.”  Good thing with time I have learned to laugh at myself and my husband has a sense of humor. If he didn’t I would be in real trouble. “Hey hun. How was work? I asked out the cable guy today. Total misunderstanding.”  He looks at me and laugh’s. “How did you manage that one? ” But honestly…..why does this stupid weird shit happen to me?

Thing #2, I miss about home........

Thing #2  I miss about home....…….

 

My childhood……. If none of you grew up with kick ass neighbors I feel sorry for you. It was the best! Every summer I had not one, not two but three yards to play in. I had a trampoline the next one down had a swing set and later a skate/bike ramp and further down a basketball hoop. It honestly was the best ever. In back of all of our houses was undeveloped land or what we called the “weeds” that just added to our playground. Neutral territory where we all would hang out. We built forts and played war. We played so many games and spent so many summers out there I honestly had to say it brought a tear to my eye when they put apartments on the land. When I got sick of my sisters I would just tell my mom… “I’ll be out with the neighbor boys be back when the street lights come on.”  Summers were filled with adventure and fun. Best place in our whole town to grow up. Our little summer group grew close in a way that when we grew up into teenagers and not kids it was just a “I got your back” kind of attitude. A group of unofficial siblings.

The last house in our group belonged to a boy named Andy. My bestfriend and the coolest person I knew. Whenever I had sleepovers and even up to my teenage years my friends would ask to come to his house. It was the best! Super fun attic playground and he had bunk beds and boy toys I wouldn’t find at my house. It was the best! We never used phones. In fact I don’t think I ever knew his number by heart. He would throw rocks at my window so I would come out and play or I would Just walked to the side door. Makes me laugh now. This little skinny freckled faced kid knocking on the side door asking for Andy and running up to his room begging him to take me for a ride on the lawn mower around the block. Bringing half dead rabbit to his door because I was sure he could make it better. Stupid things like that about growing up I miss. Late summer nights staying out playing running around playing tag with the boys Mike and Tim and Andy. And their band…”Raak n’ Rainey’s” playing so late till our feet hurt.  How the summers seem to drag on and coming up with new things to do everyday until we grew up.  We grew up and he got normal guy friends and I got boobs. The knocks to the side door were less often and the other boys Mike and Tim moved away. It sucked! But still every now and then I would find myself walking through the yards under the willow tree around the back (flicking off the other neighbor next door to him as I walked by because we both hated them) on my way round the corner to the side door. “Is Andy home?” Finding myself running up the stairs again as a teenager the same as I did when I was ten.

As we all grew up and moved away seeing each other less often but when we did it was a hug and smile. Growing up there was the best for me. Our little unofficial family. I never forgot how much fun that was and how important childhood friends are. Still when I go home and look down the lawns I see all of us there again. 9, 10, 11, 12 years old playing around. I miss that. That time everything being so easy and how time went on for what seemed forever. After a number of years pass and I brought my son home to go trick or treating I walked up to Andy’s old house and had to stop myself before going in the side door. Funny how things come back to you that way.

Years later we had our 10 year class reunion.  It was so big and intimidating event being back. (not going to lie) But as soon as I walked in it was ok. There was my childhood friend standing there with a son of his own. Our lives being all grown up so far from those summer days.  But I walked right up to him hugged him and it calmed me standing there with him. Being back was not so intimidating anymore as long as he was there.  The same for the other 2 boys I grew up with. If I’m ever back home I find myself standing next to one of them and I’m right back in my comfort zone.

I guess I hope my son has the same group of childhood friends. I hope he would grow as close as we all did those summers on East 14^th Street.  Things have changed so much but as corny as this sounds those memories will last my lifetime.

Thing #1 I miss about home…….

Thing #1 I miss about home…….

God bless my Dad! Raising 3 girls in a house all together in pre-teen, teenage age at the same time. Periods, hormonal teenagers who wanted to kill each other and him being clearly outnumbered being the only male in the house. If you ever grow up with a lot of girls in one house you will know that your periods sink together. That means ALL of us women, chocolate eating, crying hormone, fighting, moody girls all being CRAZY at the same time.  Like I said GOD BLESS MY DAD.  In saying that he has to be one of the best people I have ever met and I’m just the lucky one that got stuck with him. Our relationship is a unique one but loving one. The best part is I’m his step-daughter. That is best in fact because he made a choice to love me and he did and dose and will be the best thing since sliced bread.

 

Anyway……….Growing up I never had real interest in wearing a lot of makeup.  My mother didn’t wear much and my older sister had a lot of makeup but even after reading the instructions I couldn’t figure out where to put what.  The most I ever did with myself was get my hair highlighted and still then I did pretty much the same thing with it almost every day. I just wasn’t THAT girly in the makeup department. I remember asking my mom for makeup and her response was always the same. “You don’t need anything. You won’t be able to see your cute freckles. Less Is more.” Bla…bla….bla….. I thought she was being cheap. Who wants stupid ass freckles? Permanent pimples that’s what people should call them. She was being stupid!

Around high school I decided I definitely needed makeup. I think my arsenal of makeup at that point was Chap Stick. Cherry flavor and glitter lip gloss I got from a friend. I never got the right color foundation and it was only after a bunch of failed attempts I found out you couldn’t just pour it on your face.  I looked at the magazines and wanted to look like them. Once I spent one whole paycheck on random makeup I thought would look good. After applying everything at once I looked like I had 2 black eyes and a busted lip. I would look at my friends and they had bags and bags of makeup. Eye shadow of every color, foundation, powder, brushes, bronzer, blush and the list would go on and on and on. It felt like they were girly and womanly. I wanted to be more like them!  I on the other hand had Chap Stick. After spending hours and hours in the bathroom one day wiping off and putting on and lashes and shadow and lip plumper I emerge to what I feel like looks almost the same. I poked my eye a few times and messed a two perfectly good white shirts putting them over my face. I mean I have had my makeup done by others a few times and they told me what to do but when I did it I looked like a Farrah Fawcett hooker. Once I had everything that seemed to take hours to put on I couldn’t do much of anything that would cause me to sweat, cry, or move. I couldn’t rub my eyes or touch my face.

  One afternoon with just me and my Dad home I decided to experiment with my makeup. After hours of putting this shit on. Applying and reapplying I worked up a pretty significant appetite. When my dad called me out and said he made me lunch I couldn’t pass it up I was starving!  So I came out and sat at the table with him. He hands me sloppy Joes and he eye balls me, shakes his head and sits down. My dad is not much for words. He’s one of those old school men. You know, not much for words and a little rough around the edges.  He grew up with all brothers and knew about makeup as much as I did. And that was nothing! He looks at me for a moment and looks off into the distance. (Probably trying not to laugh) We are half way done eating when he said. “So what do you got all the shit on your face for?”  I look at him and roll my eyes. “Shut up old man. I’m trying to update my look. You don’t know anything.” He looks at me and almost chokes on his sandwich. He clears his plate and starts to clear mine. “I don’t know who you’re trying to put on all that crap for but you should take it off.” I roll my eyes again. I thought I did a pretty good job. I get up and head to the bathroom to check on the new and improved me.  I looked like a hot mess. I must have been rubbing my eyes because of all the shit I put on them and had eye liner and mascara was running down my face. I sweat half of the right side of my face and the lipstick and sloppy Joe mix was half up my face and the other half in my teeth. Defeated I decided it didn’t feel like me with all of this on my face and I was better off with the bare minimum. I wash the stuff off and come back out. My Dad looks and me and smiles and looks away staring off into the distance again. 

( BTW- I never know what he’s looking at. I have tried several attempts to sit in his chair and look over in that area and came to the conclusion that this was his thinking look.)  

“You look a lot better without all the shit all over your face.” I look at him and smile. “You can’t do anything with it on. I don’t know how beautiful people live or even function in everyday life with all of it on.” He laughed and like most things we talk about we never mentioned it again.

That’s how are relationship always is. Teasing each other but talking things out. I know I can sit with him at our old kitchen table in our house. He sits in his seat and I sit in mine. The old light (that they refuse to get rid of and is nothing short of a fire hazard) is hanging over the table and we begin to talk about nothing. Him talking about how old he is and me agreeing with him telling him how old he is. Him complaining about how I talk too much and me proving his point by not shutting up. It’s this relationship we have that is something I miss most about moving away.  Our talks. I can’t begin to describe how much I miss them. I always feel better after talking to my dad (step-dad) It’s this therapeutic taunting. We laugh and joke and cry sometimes. Well I’ll cry and he will tell me to “buck up and knock it off” but when I need him, and I mean really need him he’s there. One time I was so upset about life and how shity it was going at the time I once drove 30 miles to his work ran in and just hugged him. He hugged me back told me he loved me. It was a moment of weakness that we both never talk about. It was simple I needed him and he was there. There is no point in talking about it but just brush it off to “womanly hormones I can’t understand” he would say. Truth is we spend so much time pretending we are tough its good to know your not sometimes.

The thing is I sat here trying to write a blog about our relationship (because mostly its funny and we laugh so hard we almost pee our pants half of time) but it’s harder to explain then I thought. Us sitting there at that old table having coffee and bullshiting abut nothing at all. Literally NOTHING…..at all. Talking about weather or how funny and stupid people are. How the world is going to shit or how wonderful the world is. Us saying things laughing our ass’s off to just nothing that normal people would find funny. Any normal person sitting down hearing us would think were nuts. But is one of the things I miss most about moving away. That time I have with him. To share anything with him even if it’s nothing at all. I miss that old stupid table and that stupid fire hazard of a light. I miss our talks and I miss that time with him that I realize I NEED.

If you could picture the men from the movie “Grumpy old men” that is probably pin pointing our relationship. Well….I guess that would make me a grumpy old man, but you get my point. (side note- we both love that movie)

Anyways……..

So from time to time now I will get a call from him or I will call him and I picture him sitting at the table looking off into the distance (thinking) in his chair and I start some coffee. Still bullshitting and laughing so hard we almost drop our phone. It’s not the same but it will have to do for now. The only difference is I can tell he worries about me and I him. It’s like we both kept each other grounded and looked after with our table talks. We both thought the other one needed the time. Turns out we both did.  Now our conversation ends with…”I love you”  But I can’t tell you how much  I can’t wait to make it home to that stupid barn/house with the stupid big black dog at that stupid old table and talk about stupid things. With the best old man I have ever met in my life!

I love you!

My Beautiful Family

Muztagh-in-it, 30 Year FREAK OUT!

Muztagh-in-it, 30 Year FREAK OUT!

So I do believe with my up and coming big 30 fast approaching I am going through a little mid-life meltdown. I realize that a lot of you are very secure in your age. I salute the fist pumping, bar burning optimism that you so bolding embrace. I salute you! I on the other hand do not welcome this inevitable title I must have.  Just the other day I was sitting in my car singing along to the radio and being impressed they are actually playing some “GOOD” music and then realize I have on the “oldies” station. That made me realize where I sat in the age group of society.

There are also so many things people just assume you have done by now. A house, a career and kidS! Getting settled in your life but already having things established. Well….. My husband and I got married and had a child rather young. We also purchased our house at age 22. We were ahead of the game so to say. Now with his our son almost 9 and my husband’s career change (for the good) we find ourselves 30 and back in an apartment. (till our house sells) Then all inevitable questions that plague this age of mine. People asking when we will have more children and my Doctor telling me after 30…tick, tick, tick goes your clock. I am almost short have having a mini meltdown. Although super happy in my life and not really caring what others think from the outside looking in and 20 pounds overweight I find myself stressing hardcore over this number. It all starts with…..Gray hairs you pretend you are NOT getting. Not having time to shave your pubic hair into cute little landing strip but just letting it “go”. Not going into a rage of hormones on the kitchen counter but rather seeing if you can fit it in sometime after you put the kid to bed and dishes. Date night consists of a pg-13 movie and low fat popcorn. Paying attention to words like, blood pressure and cholesterol for the first time in your life.  Hearing the health concerns on TV or the news that start with…. “Around the age 30 you should…” Now understanding why people would consume Metamucil and the thing I have thought about most recently was if I will even be able to pass my eye exam when I have to go in to get my license renewed. I have to say I am not ready for this. Everyone saying, “after 30 is when your life really starts.” I came to the conclusion that’s what old people say.

After a long time thinking about this I came to the conclusion that although not perfect I am blessed in a lot of ways. I have a wonderful husband who loves me no matter what I do or say and who has my back no matter how crazy it may seem.  I have the best kid I think I could ever ask for! Although we don’t have everything we have ever wanted RIGHT NOW we are content for what we do. We are a little family that loves playing games and hanging out with each other. We love each other and care for each other our house is always (although crazy at times) is full of love. So what if shit is not all together by the big 30 and we may have to schedule counter top sex (sorry mom) and I don’t have a perfect landing strip all the time and my hair color is the kind that comes from a box and I still wear jeans with holes in the knees I may just make this age work for me and if not tell everyone…..”no not 30, I’m 25.”

So Fuck you 30! I’m going to rock out with my socks out and I don’t care what age appropriate mess-ups I’m making! But in lieu of age appropriateness …… here is another list.

A recent episode of How I Met Your Mother focused on things you’re too old to do once you’re 30.That list included “piercing your ear” (for guys) and pulling an all-nighter. They called the compilation of the Muztagh List, based on the Lethal Weapon character Roger Murtaugh, whose catchphrase was, “I’m too old for this SHIT.”

Murtaugh List:

Playing beer pong-Beer does not need accessories. That means no funnels, no pingpong balls and, for the love of God, no fruit.(wop)  Oh, and seriously, take the neon Budweiser sign out of your bedroom window. (My husband still wants his neon in the “man cave”)

Hanging unframed posters on your walls- This is null and void if you have a kid because by the time you put it in a frame they will change their mind.

Eating spaghetti out of a can-A box of pasta and a jar of store-brand sauce is just as cheap, per serving, as a can of Chef Boyardee. As an adult, cooking dinner means not eating out of a can, or a bowl, while standing over the sink.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in your head/arm/stomach-Sometimes, aches are the result of too much yard work or a series serious of sleepless nights. Other times, something is wrong. If you are seriously ill, the long-term treatment can cost more than a single doctor’s visit.

Partying till 3 a.m., then wakeing up at 6 a.m.-Your partying skills may remain intact, but your ability to bounce back the next morning is in decline

Thinking any shirt from the pile on the floor will do-Kurt Cobain is dead, and so is your I-just-got-out-of-bed/I’m-stylin’ look. Buy an iron and some hangers

Wearing a pro sports jersey with your name on it-Unless you actually are a pro athlete by now, you never will be. So stop committing this embarrassing, ineffective and public fraud. No one is buying it.

Doing shots- Adults drink to enjoy the beverage, not to get drunk! (oooops)

Sporting clothes with cartoon characters-Winnie the Pooh and Minnie Mouse are cute on 3-year-olds, but adults need to let the characters live on the TV screen, not across their chests.

Sleeping past lunch, unless you work the graveyard shift-Responsibilities don’t disappear under the blankets. Even if you have nothing to do get up anyway.

Pretending that gray hair you just found was a fluke-Go ahead, pluck it. You’ll have two more next week.

Ordering from the children’s menu-Restaurants put thought and creativity into their menus. A basket of chicken tenders is fine for kids, but not for adults. (I still do this btw)

Not knowing what is going on in the world you live in-Read a newspaper!

Wearing jeans with holes in them-  Throw away! (I will keep mine thanks)

Still thinks smoking weed is cool- Being high all the time is not the “cool” thing to do. You are 30 put that shit away. (I don’t have to worry about this one)

Using words like…..- What’s up dude, Hey bro, just Chilin(no your sitting on your ass!)  whoop, whoop ( I am never giving up that one)   riding dirty,  bitchin, hot damn,  way cool, sick,  sweet.

So even though most of what’s on this list is stuff I will still do I thought it would be fun to put it up. So because this is the “Muztagh” list I thought you would enjoy this anti-“im too old for this shit” video.

(on some phones this may not play)

 

So let’s all say it together on 3. Ready?  1……2……3….. "I'm not too old for this shit!"

Things I Love/Hate or both

Things I Love/Hate or both

1)      Teen mom- Makes me look like a fantastic mom without fail.

2)      Marshmallow fluff- and underrated food group and also makes for some awesome fluffer nutters. (peanut butter and fluff)

3)      Super hero movies- because I secretly want to have super powers.

4)      Twilight- I got sucked in and now I’m way to emotionally involved with the books to not see the movies.  I had to read every book and see every movie. Go team Edward!

5)      My smart phone- I don’t know how life could have even happened before my E-mail, Facebook, etc. is all at my fingertips.

6)      Chelsea Handler- She’s way more inappropriate than me and she also makes her own name for her vagina.

7)      Taylor Swift- because her songs make me cry. If I need a good cry I put her on. Boom problem solved.

8)      My card night with my Girl Friends- because it’s less about cards and more about talking and booze but the first game is always still played so the boys stay seated. (most of the time)

9)      Easy Mac- so I don’t end up eating the whole box and am not tempted to add hotdogs.

10)   My Kindle- Because I can read perverted books and people can’t see what I’m up to.

11)   Yoga pants- Because they are the best thing ever invented since tampons. I never have a fat day in theses stretchy bad boys.

12)   Pugs- Because no matter what mood you are in you can’t look at a pug in its face and not laugh your ass off.  LOVE MY PUG!!!!!!!!

13)   Coffee- Because it’s crack to me. I can’t be a hot mess and so dysfunctional without it.

14)   The guy from the Notebook- Thank you for raising every woman’s standers of how a man should be. I do understand why all men might now hate you tho.

15)   Vodka- For allowing me to sit though stupid ass movies men think are awesome. –Star wars, Princess Bride, ALL WAR MOVIES, Die hard, Steven Seagal movies, and Miss Congeniality. (Why do men love that movie?)

16)   Shopping- When I’m out shopping and see someone I know and they are all like….” Oh My God, what are you doing here?” I look around to make sure I’m in fact in the mall and not in some inappropriate place I shouldn’t be. I am relieved and answer sarcastically “Oh, you know just hunting elephants, You?” lol….Shopping. Was I not invited? What are you doing here. Lol stupid Questions!

17)   People- people who put stupid things on facebook that I NEED to know the answer to. “So many bad things happened today.”  What….WHAT happened? What bad things? I can’t ask but need to know. It’s probably a life changing event. Maybe it’s devastating? People start ask/say…..”love you hun. I’m here for you. Call me.” “what’s up you know I’m here for you.” Then I ask to myself. Well that’s a bold statement facebook friends of hers. Would if she’s having a bad day because she just reviled she’s a serial killer. You going to ask her to call you and be there for her then. NO….uff stupid facebook. Dame you for posting half statements!  (2 days pass)   “BABE! It’s ok. This person I never talk to at all just had a bad day at work. Someone took her lunch. She’s not a serial killer. She just had to casually but publicly vent. I can sleep better at night now.”

18)   Peanut butter and Jelly in one jar- I think this sounds so cool when I pick it up. Boom…..one jar, all magic. Don’t have to worry about getting a new knife every time. Awesome but confusing. I don’t refrigerate peanut butter but you have to jelly. I never know what to do with it. I use it once then push it to the back of the fridge then when I do use it not fast and easy and full of magic. The peanut butter is so hard it rips the bread and there is never enough jelly. Peanut butter and jelly in one jar. FAIL!

19)   Peeps- I love marshmallows and eating them out of the bag can get you some dirty looks. Problem solved with Peeps!

20)   Flowers for no reason- I don’t know what it is but still brings me to tears when I see my husband come in with flowers just because. I get all emotional and my son and him both laugh at me. Still one of my favorite things.

21)   Snakes- I have this huge fear of snakes. Anything without legs on land is just wrong. They freak me out and even just to see them on television makes me squirm. I can handle spiders. I mean when I see one just walking around the house I scream for a moment but I can bring myself to kill it. OK….SPIDER I NEED A SHOE….. but if I see a snake it makes me almost want to pee my pants. I wouldn’t be able to see it and bring myself to look at it let alone kill it. I would rather be trapped in a room with a tiger.

22)   People who ask questions they don’t care to know. Ever been walking by someone you see every day. At work or whatever? They pass by you and say….”hey how are you.” As they are walking away obviously not wanting to know how you actually are. They ask…”hey what’s up?” And you say….”good, you” they say fine even if both of you are not fine. I just want to stop the next person who would say that to me….”how are you?” and before they walk away I actually tell them…”well not so good. I’m a little constipated. I am crabby so I think I might be getting my period and not looking forward to getting all bloated. You?”

23)   Runny away from kart stalkers. Ever go shopping and you see someone you know. A ex teacher or someone you haven’t seen for years and your duty is to say hi because you know the probability of running into them again is likely. You avoid them aisle to aisle and pretend you don’t see them till they find you. And it’s a big HI!!!!! And they look over to your kart to see what you got. Mmmmm cheese wiz and tampons Stephanie…moviein up in the world. To make matters worse (and this has happened) a fast trip to Wal-Mart with a toddler and you end up with the kart with a bum wheel. You try to turn and it makes a god awful noise and you run right into an ex-boyfriend when your toddler yells out “MOMMA FARTED”  “Stephanie how are you?”  he said eyeing his kart too…”Ah you know good, good. Kart full of chocolate and tampons and it appears I just farted.”

It's A God Thing

It's A God Thing

 

When did religion become such a negative thing? In this blog I’m not going to preach or prove things or judge people for the lack of or too much of or the wrong kind of religion. I am going to simply tell you my story and be honest like I do in every blog I write.

Growing up we went to church with our family. Just like the person down the street and up and down each block. My parents took me every Sunday and like every kid I would rather enjoy my weekend than wake up for church just to almost just to fall asleep hearing a guy up there talking about stories I just didn’t understand.  We prayed before we went to bed and before every meal. When I got older like most things I doubted stories people told me. I mean Santa and then the Easter bunny realizing your parents make mistakes....... anything was possible. I didn’t keep things in (as you can tell) I would ask my mom and dad with every question I had and in the end, ended up leaving my conformation class after disagreeing with the new pastor (who left after for alcoholic problems and a divorce) My parents surprisingly supported me. “You are old enough now to make that choice. Don’t go just to show up or show your face. You need to go because you WANT to.” My parents use to tell me. Ok easy…..I don’t want to go. FREE WEEKEND!

For all reasons and with no proof I should like most who has had bad experiences, left religion behind me. It would have been easy to do. Let’s face it, Jesus was not the coolest thing to talk about and faith and God became a myth with Santa, Easter bunny and the tooth fairy. Still I prayed. I didn’t pray to say Hail Mary’s (even tho I don’t know why you would say them) or the Lords prayer. I would pray like most people did at first. When shit hits the fan. When you are on the icy road and you’re scared and all you want to do is get home….”please God, please. Keep me safe.” I also would randomly talk to him. It was not in any formal way and I was sure I was doing it wrong. Some prayers started with….”Hey big guy in the sky.”  Lol But I always kept him in my life.

I would research other religions too. I wanted to know about the God or Gods others believed in. I mean would if I choose the wrong one? Would if I was born into a different family with different parents would I be religious or get taught another religion would that one be the wrong one and would God allow me to die because I was born not into non Christian family? Would my soul not be good then? I didn’t think so. I thought God was good. I knew he was.  I wanted to know about each Bible and other religions. I wanted to know about Buddha and the Khan. I wanted to know about old Gods and Goddess and the God a remote tribe in the Amazon. At the end no matter what place you were from “MOST” had a god who made them. They had a sense of right and wrong and how to live. No matter what the people do with that religion most was peaceful. The main core of most the teachings were to be peaceful and forgiveing. (I’m not an expert on religions but I did a basic history channel, book reading over view.) I thought… Maybe God  made and knew what he was doing and came to each person in the world in a different way but at the end of the day it was all the same.  Whatever way ,I believed in him.  It was something in the core of my being to know that is there. It’s something I couldn’t walk away or turn my back from.

As I got older I got closer to God. We had our chats. I felt left out not having a religion. I didn’t belong to people who didn’t believe because I did. In their eyes I was stupid and weak. (yes they have told me those exact words) I was put to test. Questioned and had to answer and me saying…”I don’t know I just believe.”  I couldn’t prove why so it was a problem to them. They called me a puppet and non-independent thinker. I was criticized because I had a child and not being married, so I couldn’t be religious. I had premarital sex and I was doing all these bad things so God couldn’t love me.   When I did talk about God to those who believed in him I wasn’t religious enough. I didn’t go to a church or belong to a religion. So I was kind of an outcast in both worlds.  I was not enough but too much. I didn’t care I kept the faith I had and believed because it is what I felt in my core was right and I didn’t care what others thought. BOTH SIDES! This was my choice. A number of years after I got a cross tattooed behind my left ear. It was a reminder of my faith and also something I thought was “cool” years after I got the last words of the “footprint in the sand” tattooed on my back. I loved that poem. It always reminded me of my personal relationship with the big man/women up stairs. Someone close to me said. “I don’t understand why you have religious tattoos on you. You don’t go to church so you can’t be religious.”  This pissed me off. If you did go to church that makes you a good Christian? I don't think so. If you are a true christian the first thing you would know was not to judge. I said… “You go to church every Sunday to show up. You go to pray. You go to get closer to Mr. Man up in the sky but I’m not saying I probably do need a refresher course but I believe. You are not more or less because you go or don't. It’s not your place to judge me or I you.” She just looked at me and said “yes it is” It made me sad that I couldn’t fit in. I didn't want to belong to a church that thought that way. Although my son was baptized catholic alongside my husband. I just didn’t belong. I didn’t want to just join a church for the sake of just going. That was defeat the purpose all together. This point it would be easy for me to walk away. Say forget it. I didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. But I couldn’t. I believed and I felt I had a personal faith I couldn’t explain when asked. So it’s not the coolest thing in the world. I just didn’t care.

Years past when I walked in to drop off my son to his religion class. I brought him because I wanted him to grow up knowing or being taught the basic things that I couldn’t teach him. It was important to my husband and me. After he was grown he could make his own choices but he had to start somewhere. I walked in the church and the Catholic Church and it’s both beautiful and intimidating. I didn’t belong there. It was then when I made a silent joke to the big guy upstairs of me probably bursting into flames when I ran into Father Keefe. This catholic priest reminded me of a mixture between Santa Claus and a Grandfather.  I had talked to him once before when my son was getting baptized. I turned the other way to avoid conversation. “Hello Stephanie.” I couldn’t believe he remembered my name. He asked if I needed anything and said we could talk sometime if it was ok with me. We set up a meeting. When I walked into his office he asked me to have a seat. We talked for a bit. I told him my dilemma and how though I wanted to belong I didn’t want to just jump into a religion I didn’t know anything about. He said it was ok. If I ever needed him for anything to just ask and he prayed with me and I went on my way. Every time after that when I came into the church for weddings funerals or anything else he would give me a hug and reminded me if he ever needed me.

About 3 years later I decided I wanted to know more about the catholic religion. It seemed intimidating but I was not a person to be persuaded or pushed into something so I knew this would be ok. When I called for Father Keefe the receptionist told me he was ill and I would have to speak with father Joe.  Great I found a jolly Santa priest and now I would have to start all over. I set up the meeting anyway. I walked into father Joe's office and sat down. He shook my hand and sat with me. “What can I help you with Stephanie?” I looked at him confused not having any questions ready for him. I simply said. “I don’t know.” He looked at me again puzzled. “Why did you come today?” He asked frankly. I looked at him and said again. “I don’t know.” I was sure he was ready to show me the door when I said. “Look I don’t want to waste any of your time. I have a lot of questions and as it would have it God is not really good at writing letters or sending e-mails so I don’t know how to get a hold of him.” He looked at me with a huge smile. He didn’t think I was nuts….first good thing. He laughed and said. “You’re really funny. Ok Stephanie ask me anything. Anything you want to know and I will do my best to try to answer your questions but first I want to know about you.”  I didn’t know where to start and I talk A LOT so I told him the basics and was sure not to leave anything out. I was sure now I would burst into flames glancing at my shirt every now and again to make sure. I told him the not so good stuff about me. I didn’t want to lie. I wanted him to reject me maybe. I kept talking and told him about my complete confusion about this whole thing.  I looked at him after and said. “So what do you think?  Goin to hell?” Again he laughs and said. “Well I don’t think this uniform gives me that kind of power.” I laughed to. Hmmmm a priest that jokes?   He said, “I think it’s brave of you to come in here and just tell me everything and be so honest with it. I think it’s strong of you to keep your faith when it’s easy to forget it. I don’t want you to join this church because someone you know is. Or you’re doing it just because you want to get married or use it for something . I want you to come because you want to be here. That’s why I’m so happy you are here. So often people come with a motive behind it. To show up at church to say they came. You want to be here, so far.”  I looked at him and said. “Well that’s the problem. I can’t believe in something I know so little about. I have this faith that won’t go away but I can’t just join something to just join. I need to know why you stand and kneel and do the cross movement. (I mimic it horribly) I need to know why you do what you do what it’s all about.” He looked at me trying not to laugh I think. “Ok Stephanie. Ask me what you need to know.” I asked everything. The stuff you shouldn’t I think. I asked about the reputation now days. (Priest and alter boys) I asked EVERYTHING. I didn’t leave anything out. I found myself when I was done passing around the room coming up with more and more questions. He sat there looking at me nodding.  All my questions about faith and why one religion would go to heaven but the rest to hell if you don’t choose this one or this one. When I was done I sat and slouched in the chair then said. “And I’m sure when I get to the car I will come up with 20 more questions.”  He looks at me with this huge smile on his face. I give him a frown….”So you guys don’t want me then?” He laughed again and said. “ok, Stepahine I have just the thing for you. I am going to send you to a class that will teach you the whys  and when and who’s and I hope that will answer all of these questions and more.  The class in once a week. If you feel at any time you want to leave and it’s not for you, you can leave at any time but I want you to come talk to me first and if you have any questions my door is open to you if there is anything you need. If this is not for you maybe I could just be some help for you in your quest for answers.”   Not so thrilled about the class's but I'm in. We shook on it. After leaving I felt relived.

The classes were amazing and I did raise my hand ALL the time and I did have to go to father Joe for some of them. The class was taught by a sister Jan who is amazing and still a dear friend. I have to say at no point did I ever feel forced into anything. At the end when at 28 I did get confirmed.  It was a very nice ceremony. It was humbling. He washed my feet in front of the whole church and I tried to talk him out of this saying feet were stink nasty but it was symbolism which I always enjoy. Jesus washed the feet of his despoils saying he was just a man and just like you or me. Father Joe did the same showing he was no better but just a man. I told father Joe my feet would stink as i tend to enjoy wool socks but it didn't faze him.  He laughed at me again and told me he was going to do it anyway. It was beautiful in the end. When we went through the old school ceremony I have to admit I did cry. More than cry I was kind of bawling. At the end I’m sure I will always be a little outside the box. I say things I sometimes shouldn’t like telling sister and father that Gay marriage wouldn’t be that big of a deal seeing as how God loves everyone. They never got into the politics but Father Joe hugged me and said. “That’s why I love you Stephanie.”  

In the end being catholic is not for everyone and I didn’t think it would be for me. They accept me and love me just the way I am. (and haven’t kick me out yet….so I think were still good.)

 Although they didn’t have all life’s answers for me I believe there are something’s we will find out when we die.  I believe it is your own personal thing that is just for you what you believe or not believe and part of just being a good person.  I think this world will always be full of good and bad people. Some people use religion to start wars or hate and sometimes they don’t but the point is doing what’s right for you. I have never tried to preach to people about the whys and how’s. I don’t want to judge a person on how they live their life or what they do. In saying that sometimes I get disappointed when the same respect is not given to me.

Am I the perfect Christian? NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not by a long shot.  But no one is perfect and I’m ok with that. And at the end of the day I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. I still talk the same to Mr. Man in the sky but I also have a few pretty meaningful prayers to go along with it. I may not ever fit into a box but I found some pretty amazing people along the way who love me just the way I am. And today after speaking to father Joe trying to find a church here (because we moved) joking around with him as always….”so if I can’t find one means I can sleep in on the weekends and just call you with any questions. You should really get a pager then I can get a hold of you. Do you text Father?”  It was good hearing him laugh at me again. “Ha, ha, Stephanie. I’ll look us some churches for you and see if we can find a good one. I miss you and Logan and Matt. Promise to come say Hi to me.”

It was good hearing him miss me. It was kind of like a family. So I guess even though God never called me back or sent me an e-mail when I was ready I found out just where I needed to be. It was then that I realized that bumping into Father Keefe that day was not a mistake. He was alive long enough to see me get up in front of the church and when I saw him after although he couldn’t speak then he gave me a wink. I could picture him saying…”I told you if you ever needed me.”  At his funeral I went up to his body and looked at this Santa, Grandfather of a man I thanked him. After I was confirmed I received a letter from the sisters in the convent in town. One told me she has been praying for me ever since she talked with father Keefe. When I realized how many years ago and what devotion that took I was humbled. It was good to feel accepted and loved just for the way that I am. That these people would believe in me and any choice I made and just love me for the way I am. I found where I needed to be. What felt right to me.

So maybe these days Jesus and God are not the coolest things to talk about. They are sort of like politics, a topic most will avoid. I hope that my son will have a relationship with God like I have. To know there will be doubt or questions but to allow him to make his own choices and love him regardless because that in the end is what it’s all about.

Father Joe and I

 

Mommy See Mommy Do

Mommy see Mommy Do

 

When did motherhood become a competitive sport? Being a young mother I didn’t know who’s advice to take and I constantly thought I was messing up my kid. “Be hard on him but don’t be too hard. Tell him no but don’t tell him no this way and this way and this way. Put him to sleep and walk away or pick him up and don’t walk away. Potty train them with authority but don’t use authority at all. Don’t bring him in the girls bathroom in a public area let him do it himself. Do you know what happens if you let your kids that go into the public bathroom by themselves? Don’t feed him that or this or that or NOT THAT. Feed him this way not that way. Use this bottle not this kind. Don’t do it this way do it this way? You’re not a good mom if you do this or this or this but you are if you do this.” I was sooooo ready to scream!  It was when my son was around a year old when I said FUCK IT!

 It all started when person in my life wouldn’t talk to me and was mad because they thought I wasn’t doing what she told me to do with my son. She was upset because I didn’t do what she asked. She was so mad in fact that she said I was a stubborn and selfish. When I told this person that this was MY son and theses were MY choices, shit it the fan. I told her not every choice I made would be the right one but I would never learn how to be a good mother if I didn’t try. There was no reasoning with this person she wouldn’t hear me. I gave up! I didn’t care if she thought I was a bitch. I knew what was right for us. Not her….US!  From this point on I didn’t care what one professional said or another one. I didn’t care if I wasn’t perfect. I didn’t care what people thought. I knew that I loved my son and I knew what was best for us and our family and although from time to time I do ask advice from people if I need help. (and I do sometimes and I don’t think that’s a weakness) For the most part I decided to do what I thought was best for my son. What we as a family choose and we block out EVERYTHING else out!

I would probably define myself as a laid back mom. I don’t force things like sports or different things upon my son. I tell him he should try everything once and if he hates it I wouldn’t make him do it again. Try baseball but if it’s not your thing, not a big deal. I was not the mother at the top of the water slide begging her kid to go down. I was the mom who said. "Come on we will try it once and if you hate it you don’t have to do it again. Daddy is at the bottom you won’t get hurt."  I say as I’m pushing him down. All is well when he hit the bottom. That’s how I can best describe my parenting “style”  I am laid back for the most part and as long as we do what makes us happy… all is well.

It was a number of years ago when my son really got into dressing up. When I say dressing up I mean FULL costume. It just so happened he decided to be a dinosaur that day. He was roaring around the house pretend eating army men when I realized we needed to go to the grocery store. I didn’t think twice and playing along with him I yell….”Hey dinosaur, you want to come with me to the store or do you want to go get human clothes on?” He pulls and me and growls again and I help him put on his shoes and growl back at him. I strap the full dinosaur into the car seat and set the tail to the side. We get to Wal-Mart and hand and hand in mid July Mr. dinosaur who also wanted to wear a backpack and sport a sippy cup, walk inside. People stare and I figure that much is normal and walk down all the aisle's till my list is done. I was standing at the checkout when a women talking to her husband said, “Mothers let their kids do anything they want these days. Look at that kid getting away with everything.” I look down at my son, sippy in hand growling at the chocolate milk. For one second I took what she said into consideration. Maybe I was being a bad mom by letting my kid have an imagination. I turn around and said. “I don’t find the harm in him playing why I shop. It’s not hurting anyone and he’s happy.” She rolled her eyes at me. We finished checking out when my son turns around and gives her a big GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She said “that’s what I’m talking about there. No manners.” I grab my son’s hand turn around and give her a big GRRRRRRR too. My son laughs and pulls at my arm so I bend down to him. “Momma dinosaur”  I smile. “yep momma dinosaur. 

He continued to dress up for a number of years. Most people just laughed at him. Imagine pulling up next to a full clone trooper  in the back seat next time you’re in the car. It just might make you laugh.

I think loving your child and wanting the best for them is a natural thing. I think all good mothers do. I also believe we don’t and will never parent the same way or even parent a second child as we do the first. I do feel like we do judge people to harshly without knowing them. The screaming child throwing a fit in the shopping mall may in fact be a spoil rotten kid your rolling your eyes at or they may be a child with a disability that can’t control it. Just because they may not do what you would do doesn't mean it's the wrong way. Just means its different from what you would do. THAT'S ALL!

While my child was growing from toddler to school age is when I felt the most judgment from fellow mothers. A mother told me once, “My child can do this and this because I choose this school and they went here and did this.” I felt like I was being a bad mother because I didn’t in roll him yet. Kid these days go through 2-3 years of preschool before they enter kindergarten. I didn’t know that. I felt bad for not doing that and ended up putting him in school too early for him and his personality and I should have gone with my gut and didn’t and regret that still to this day. I knew what was best for MY son and because I felt like I was doing something wrong I caved to the pressure. I also got lots of criticism for never putting my son in daycare. I stayed home with him for a year then took a wonderful job that allowed me to bring him to work with me every day. I thought I was lucky to find a job like that to be able not to miss a thing but also get him the social skill kids needed. I had more than one mom tell me what a mistake I was making. In the end I believe my son for the most part is a happy little man with respect and will say his please and thank yous and although he’s not perfect and no child is, I am so very very proud of the little man!

In the end you will always find someone who disagrees with what you happen to choose for your family. I believe if you feel it’s right and best for you and your child do it. Yeah…..we look pretty ridicules sometimes having a slip and slide in the middle of town in our yard going down it on a hot summer day as grown adults with a child. Yeah….my husband was playing super hero’s with his son and was mowing the lawn with a wolverine mask on with darth vador chasing him. Odd looking but my son loves it. You might drive by to find us having water balloon fights and playing bad mitten dressed as a clone troopers but we stopped giving a shit what people think and started caring what our son thought and our son happens to think the slip and slides and super hero’s are way cool!

My advice to any new mother is when they put that baby in your arms and your heart jumps out of your body and into theirs love them to pieces. Go with your gut. Do what’s best for you and whatever type of family you have. Have FUN with your kids. They are NOT mini adults and will only be a child for so long. They believe that the impossible is possible and there is magic in that. They dream so big and tell the best stories. They love you no matter what clothes you have on or how much you weigh or how you do your hair.  It doesn’t matter what new bottle you have or if they have the newest latest thing. They just want to be loved as long as you’re doing that you can’t go wrong. Don’t do “mommy see, mommy do” but do what’s best for you!

Being a mother is probably the best achievement I have ever made in my life. I am proud of everything he does! He is the funniest most caring, loving person I know and I’m happy to call him mine.

-I’ll love you forever bubie, sticky, peanut butter ,smelly face munchkin!-