My Homies

Bradley, Andrew, Andrew's girfriend Chelsea, Isabelle and Honey in front, and our other Chelsea and Evan. Beautiful.

I'm out

Not much time today. I'm going to work. The kids are with Brad. I am pondering as to what subject will be my next significant blog endeavor. Something will strike me. Peace and goodness to all who read this. I hope your weekend is going well. We will talk soon.

Mothering Boys

Yesterday, my son Andrew (17) got his ears pierced. I drove him to the piercing place (Body Tech) and signed the consent form. He looks great. Bradley has a tattoo. Evan is coming soon.

Many parents would perhaps have issues with this. This is how I feel: My son makes good grades. He does not do drugs or drink alcohol like practically the entire teenage population of our hick town. In his attempt to "stand out" or express his individuality, he asked permission to do so. Seriously? I can recall "expressing" myself in ways that would have prompted my Daddy to put me in rehab. I have good kids. If this is as rebellious as it gets, I can handle it. I know it won't be though. The key is to put things in perspective. It's just jewelry. Some silver dots in his ear lobes. They can come out. Or not.

To those of you with children, prepare yourself. Boys are going to pull away from you (moms especially) in the teen years in order to become men. It is natural and good. They will hit puberty and attempt to have their own thoughts, feelings, views, whatever. This is what we want, right? So, don't panic. It can be ugly. Relax. They will circle back around. If you can have the presence of mind to recognize it, you can provide a safe place for them to figure things out. I have always felt that home is the best place for this messy process. I would rather them learn how to disagree, show anger, and argue at home than out in the merciless world.

They are going to challenge your views, beliefs, and general ways of doing things. This is good for two reasons. 1) Because they need to learn for themselves about truth, and 2) You are wrong about some stuff and they need not repeat your mistakes.

So get over yourself. Your boys are not supposed to be "little you" forever. They are God's. Give them a little room to be mad. They suddenly have all that testosterone and have to learn how to deal with it. They have sexual desires and aggression and all kinds of things that need to be filtered. So take a deep breath, learn how to say "I see your point", and stop emasculating. Seriously. They will learn it with you or out there. Whether you like it or not. Try not to be one of the reasons for therapy. Peace.

Man, I love my boys!

Daddy

Today was Father's Day. A day that tends to make me sad. I know it shouldn't, but it does. I miss my Daddy. He left for Heaven on my Mom's birthday, December 13, 2002. He was 62. It was way too soon. I don't feel like saying anymore. I miss him. That's it.

Keep Moving

I am getting ready to be off to Johnny's for the day. Working a double shift. It's not so bad when my kids aren't here. I am learning the plight of the single mom with little or no child support. It is a plight, too, let me tell you! Many people help me, though, and I do not know what I would do without them. As bad as it can be sometimes, I do not want to go back to jail. I was put there on false charges and released on, I'd like to imagine, some DNA evidence. I am free. Sad, mad, tired, sad again, but free. God help me, please. Have a nice day, people. I plan to.

Moving things down.

Today is good. Bradley is home from Baton Rouge. I am so happy to have him with me. And where there is Bradley, there is Kam. So I will be laughing a lot.

Work is good. I am learning how to be a server both literally and figuratively. I love the people at Johnny's.

Belinda is quiet now. Carlos, my mechanic (I have a mechanic now), put a new muffler on her. She is quiet. Unfortunately, she stopped running in the middle of the road last night. So...I don't know. I have faith that Carlos will know what to do.

I am ok. I will be ok.

Sweet Dreams.

I am plagued by troublesome dreams. Nightmares. I do not recall ever having good dreams with the exception of the other night. The encouraging news is that I have a personal interpreter of dreams at my disposal. A Dream Weaver of sorts. It's Robin, my great friend and partner in crimes and intrigues. We are some wild people, let me tell you. Donkeys on the edge. Back to the subject. Honestly, she doesn't miss with her insights. Her gift is as wacked out and as reliable as my "Eye Reading" thing where I can tell if you're a good person or not by the look in your eyes. I also do a party trick with name interpretation. That is good fun. Anywayyyy.....

I have had only two recurring dreams in my life. By recurring, I mean over periods of many years having the same or similar dream about 10 or more times. The first has to do with Danny. As many know, Danny is my boyfriend that died too soon in 1983. My dreams of him are always about me panicking that I have been neglecting him, calling frantically, and then he shows up, and I cannot touch him. It's always sad and unsettling. Of course, any novice can do this one. But,...

My other one had to with me arguing with someone. It would always culminate with my tearing and digging violently at the person's eyes. I would scratch and scream. It was horrible. I thought for so long that it was just about me being angry. But when Robin heard it, she said that it was about me desperately saying, "LOOK at me!!" I cannot describe how accurate that is. Please see me.

So, Robin has no idea, but I'm pimpin' her gift out. Well, not really pimpin' because there is no charge for this freak show. Tell me your dream, and we shall see if my Weaver can speak truth to your unsettled mind. She's gonna kill me.

They see me rollin', they hatin'....

Some of you know that due to financial circumstances beyond my control, I am now driving a 93 Cutlass. She is baby blue and her name is Belinda. Andrew is gifted in the Naming of Things, and so, hence the name. I didn't realize that in 1993 we were still using separate keys for ignition, doors, and trunk. Whoever the woman is that thought of the single car key, I salute her. She is only slightly under the woman genius who came up with lidded cups. (bowing, bowing.)

Driving down the road in Belinda is not that bad. I mean, yes, people are judging the sound of her engine. I am, too. My ears are still slightly ringing from our outing this morning. But, overall, she is good. She is great, actually. I have been relying on friends and my Crocs to get me around for a week. This will bring you down a notch or two. Or three. I am not sure of what God has in store next, but I am nervous.

I know y'all want a photo of Belinda. I will try to get to that this weekend. Carole suggested that I drape myself across her hood. Not sure about that. I may just get Evan to do it. We shall see. In the meantime, know that I am ridin' dirty through the mean streets of Keystone Heights. Don't be hatin'.

"Any man may be in good spirits and good temper when he’s well dressed. There ain’t much credit in that."

I love Charles Dickens. If you have never read his work, you should at least try. I love every word!


"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. " David Copperfield


"That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day." - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Have a lovely day!

A Hub. A Good Thing.

Summer, my friend, got me thinking. So I will think and type.

Some of you know my friend Carole. Carole Sue Turner. I met her as Carole Smith. She has been my steady great friend for over 23 years. She is a wonderful wife and mother. If you read her blog, The Wardrobe and the White Tree, you know she is an advocate for adoption and helping the needy in every way. She has a beautiful daughter, Evangeline and two boys, Abel and Steele. Her husband Dean is the hottest man alive, according to her.

I knew Sue, as I call her, when she still slept every night with her stuffed dog, Frodo. She was 18, but I know she slept with him for years after that. She was single and didn't have a car, but I can honestly say that I have never seen anyone get around as much as she managed to. Incredible. She is a cleaner. I LOVE when Carole stays with me for long periods of time. My dishes are done, laundry done, and my furniture gets moved around. She's a force.

I have so many friends that are a direct result of knowing Carole. She is what I call a "hub". The center of a wheel and many of us are spokes. Such a good thing. She doesn't even try, but Carole connects people just by flitting around doing her thing. I even get to know her family from Okeechobee, and they are the most hard core, fun, party animals I have ever seen. I'll put them up against anyone. You cannot hang with these people. I love them.

The best part about Carole, besides the fact that she loves me, is her imperfections. That's right. Not all her good deeds. It's her ability to be absolutely "Carole" and just let you see all of her. I have always said "there is no Secret Carole." You get the whole thing. All of her. I can love that with my whole heart. And I do.