Why do we "accident" ourselves into disaster? We are so far removed from personal responsibility that we don't even see when we are at fault. Everything we see, say, and do is one big OOPS. Oops, I know I am dieting but my husband just purchased a large pizza and I ate 1/2 of it. Oops, I just accidentally had sex with someone that wasn't my spouse. Oops, I just accidentally shot my girlfriend numerous times, but judge, I thought she was a burglar, hiding in the bathroom screaming. It was all an accident. How old are we, 5? No, we are grown people living in a world that allows us to be irresponsible. My 3 year old knows the difference between an accident---pottying in his pants at nap time---and intentional behavior---standing outside, buck-naked, peeing in the yard. Big difference.
The problem is that everyone thinks that everyone else is the culprit but we don't want to admit we are just as irresponsible as our friend, neighbor or the guy we pass on the street. Truth? The truth is that we cry, 'it was an accident' only when we get caught in the act of wrong-doing. Case in point, the other day my son got busted out by his sister---he finger painted his room with a mix of Ovaltene, chocolate drink mix and water....well it looks like poo, although it was not because The Princess would certainly have taken greater pleasure in announcing the finger paint job if her baby brother had used poo. At any rate, what was an intentional act (because that boy knew good and well what he was doing was wrong) turned out to be an accident when he was confronted---oh mommy mommy I so sawry, it was a assident (in the his best 3yr old voice). Isn't it funny that, as adults, we still operate like that.
My accidental, late night, food binges have been the catalyst to my overweight disaster (along with those blasted mint m&ms). Tiger Woods' plethora of affairs was the disaster to his failed marriage and tarnished career. Mr. Olympian Blade Runner, Oscar Pistorius' rage was his disaster, as it resulted in him killing his girlfriend. And let's not forget the chick, Jodi Arias, who stabbed her boyfriend 27 times, and says it was an accident....she doesn't remember any of it or parts of it or the past is jumbled up with the present...yada yada yada. Come on! We have all arrived at our disasters, in great part, by our own doing. Man up. Woman Up. You are NOT 300 lbs on accident---never (well, maybe if you are Fat Man from the Austin Powers movie, I guess telling grown folk to 'get in my belly' can put the weight on quickly, especially if you miscalculated the fat/calorie content--- and yes, I know that wasn't his name, hush). The fact of the matter is, the devil did not make you do it and there are no green monsters hiding under your bed. We all need to decide that we are going to be responsible for our own actions. In the spirit of Lent, regardless if you are religious or not, let us all give up irresponsibility. Being responsible has no age limit, big or small, we all have it in us to know, understand, and accept right from wrong.
Let me start, I am responsible for my body, my finances, my beautiful children, my madness (actually my husband and children have a hand in that), my words and my well-being. No one else can make me or break me, other than God Almighty. Now, your turn.
Until next time,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Butt-Whoopin Angel
Do you ever get tired of the shear stupidity of people? I mean, come on, when did it become okay to just be downright inconsiderate, backbiting, and ignorant? Somewhere along the way our society has allowed us to be a nation of careless, non empathetic people. These characteristics are now the social norm. We used to be a people who watched out for each other, who took care of each other's children...we were a village. Now we are a bunch of punks...looking out for numero uno, not wanting to get involved even if what we are witnessing is wrong.
For example, I know that riding a school bus is an experience, and a, somewhat, difficult challenge for kids. I rode the bus as a child and let me tell you, it was miserable. I was, at times, made fun of, because I was overweight. I was bullied but not to the degree of torment. Not that ANY level of bullying is ever alright, because it is totally unacceptable, however, I hear about what children go through today and I want to go into attack mode. I saw, on either t.v. or some other social network, where this mentally challenged young girl was being bullied by not only another child on the bus but his ignorant parent once they got off the bus. REALLY? First of all, why didn't the bus driver put a stop to it. I know I am not a bus driver, and would likely be arrested if I ever were, but it would seem like humanity would trump all other aspects of that job. I have 5 kids, you can ask each of them, down to the 3 year old, "has mommy ever stopped the car to yell at you"...the 3 oldest may state that there was more than yelling involved, maybe something about spanking their butts and not being able to sit on them afterwards. But as a bus driver, yeah, I am pulling that bus over and I am going a little 'crazy momma' on them. That may have nipped some of that mess in the bud.
Or how about those stupid people who think that just because they are "keeping it real" that gives them a license to say whatever comes to mind. For real, don't nobody want to hear every word that pops into another's head, especially when it is rude, disrespectful, and poisonous to another's self worth. For instance, take that dumb show 'Dance Moms' (I think that's what it's called), the owner/instructor is this overbearing, loud, and incredibly rude woman who believes that God put her on the earth to share every despicable thought she has in her head. She spews ugliness to not only the mothers on the show but to the young dancers that are working their tails off to win her medals for her studio. Insane! I'm not certain who is worse, the obnoxious woman who owns the place or the mommas who allow their daughter's and themselves to endure this woman's crude behavior.
That's why I think God needs to implement a Butt-Whoopin Angel. Lord, if you are listening, please make sure this angel is built like a gladiator and has the no-nonsense attitude of Madea (for you who don't know you need to ask somebody). Yep! That angel's duty is to come to earth and open a can of whoop @#% (sorry, there really is no other way to say that phrase) on all those folks who have lost their ever-lovin minds. You want to bully someone, you get a smack down. You want to stay out until ungodly hours of the morning and have your momma worrying because you are 18 and think you are grown....you get a whoopin! You cheat on your spouse, whoopin! You yell at your momma and call her names....WHOOPIN. And I don't mean a little tap on the butt, get your feelings hurt kind of spankin either. No-sir-ree-bob. I mean the kind of whoopin that has you crying and snottin, mumbling...I'm sorry, I won't do it again...you know the kind of pleading I'm talking about (if you got a butt spankin as a child), the I'm sorry I won't do it again followed by the parent's "this hurts me more than it hurts you" kind of whoopin.
A holy ghost smack down is what needs to begin to happen in our nation! That's what I should start praying for, "dear Lord, will you please send the Butt-Whoopin Angel down to spank my child, husband, neighbor, friend, co-worker".....Ya'all better watch out, I am switchin my prayers up because some of you need a good old fashioned butt whoopin and the Lord just might be listening and send that angel your way. Ain't no whoopin like a holy ghost whoopin cause a holy ghost whoopin don't stop!
Until next time
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
For example, I know that riding a school bus is an experience, and a, somewhat, difficult challenge for kids. I rode the bus as a child and let me tell you, it was miserable. I was, at times, made fun of, because I was overweight. I was bullied but not to the degree of torment. Not that ANY level of bullying is ever alright, because it is totally unacceptable, however, I hear about what children go through today and I want to go into attack mode. I saw, on either t.v. or some other social network, where this mentally challenged young girl was being bullied by not only another child on the bus but his ignorant parent once they got off the bus. REALLY? First of all, why didn't the bus driver put a stop to it. I know I am not a bus driver, and would likely be arrested if I ever were, but it would seem like humanity would trump all other aspects of that job. I have 5 kids, you can ask each of them, down to the 3 year old, "has mommy ever stopped the car to yell at you"...the 3 oldest may state that there was more than yelling involved, maybe something about spanking their butts and not being able to sit on them afterwards. But as a bus driver, yeah, I am pulling that bus over and I am going a little 'crazy momma' on them. That may have nipped some of that mess in the bud.
Or how about those stupid people who think that just because they are "keeping it real" that gives them a license to say whatever comes to mind. For real, don't nobody want to hear every word that pops into another's head, especially when it is rude, disrespectful, and poisonous to another's self worth. For instance, take that dumb show 'Dance Moms' (I think that's what it's called), the owner/instructor is this overbearing, loud, and incredibly rude woman who believes that God put her on the earth to share every despicable thought she has in her head. She spews ugliness to not only the mothers on the show but to the young dancers that are working their tails off to win her medals for her studio. Insane! I'm not certain who is worse, the obnoxious woman who owns the place or the mommas who allow their daughter's and themselves to endure this woman's crude behavior.
That's why I think God needs to implement a Butt-Whoopin Angel. Lord, if you are listening, please make sure this angel is built like a gladiator and has the no-nonsense attitude of Madea (for you who don't know you need to ask somebody). Yep! That angel's duty is to come to earth and open a can of whoop @#% (sorry, there really is no other way to say that phrase) on all those folks who have lost their ever-lovin minds. You want to bully someone, you get a smack down. You want to stay out until ungodly hours of the morning and have your momma worrying because you are 18 and think you are grown....you get a whoopin! You cheat on your spouse, whoopin! You yell at your momma and call her names....WHOOPIN. And I don't mean a little tap on the butt, get your feelings hurt kind of spankin either. No-sir-ree-bob. I mean the kind of whoopin that has you crying and snottin, mumbling...I'm sorry, I won't do it again...you know the kind of pleading I'm talking about (if you got a butt spankin as a child), the I'm sorry I won't do it again followed by the parent's "this hurts me more than it hurts you" kind of whoopin.
A holy ghost smack down is what needs to begin to happen in our nation! That's what I should start praying for, "dear Lord, will you please send the Butt-Whoopin Angel down to spank my child, husband, neighbor, friend, co-worker".....Ya'all better watch out, I am switchin my prayers up because some of you need a good old fashioned butt whoopin and the Lord just might be listening and send that angel your way. Ain't no whoopin like a holy ghost whoopin cause a holy ghost whoopin don't stop!
Until next time
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Cyrano is a joke!
Cyrano is a joke! For those of you who don't know who I am speaking of, Cyrano is this unattractive (Pinocchio looking), very poetic, love lyricist who was in love with this girl named Roxane but because he was insecure with his looks he let his good-looking buddy, Christian, have at her. The kick though was that Christian didn't know squat about talking to women or wooing them so he would have his buddy Cyrano hide in the bushes and feed him lines so that he could talk to Roxane. He would also have Cyrano write love letters to Roxane, as if he were Christian. WHEW....So, now that you have the Cliff Notes (look it up)...
Here's this guy who is poetic and knows how to woo a women, Roxane to be exact. But can I just say, she is a dumb broad. Really? When Cyrano and his friend, Christian, are both standing under the infamous tree and she doesn't know the difference between their two voices, what a sap, or when Christian decides to profess his love to Roxane without his sidekick hiding in the bushes and all that comes out of his mouth is "I love you....bunches" (okay, well I paraphrased). I would have figured that mess out quick. At that point I would have had to make a decision---good looks or great words...hmmm.That crazy Roxane fell in love with Cyrano's words spoken through Christian. Unbeknownst to her, she really was in love with the unattractive Cyrano (which she didn't discover until it was too late....dumb broad). I like a good love story just as much as the next person but why do they have to be so unrealistic.
An all time favorite of mine is the classic love story, Pretty Woman (or anything with Julia Roberts, that's my girl). How often do you get to see a movie where a hooker lands a millionaire ("woot, woot")? We watch all these love stories and search for our rich Cyrano's and are in awe when all we encounter in the real world are the humbly waged Tim The Tool Man kind of guys. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the Tim's in the world but our chic flix need to better reflect the men out there.
People, listen, love is not that dang sappy and unrealistic. Love is tricky, crazy, mind boggling, HARD WORK sometimes stupid and jacked up, but when you discover the right one for you all that stuff seems to make sense. I am so sick of people throwing in the towel and not putting in the work all because life seems easier single....well, it may be easier but I will have to say that love--the truly good stuff---was not designed to be easy. That kind of love is built on dedication, patience, kindness, respect, and sometimes a good stiff drink or come to Jesus moment, whatever your preference (I ain't mad atcha).
If you think I am kidding about the crazy but somehow it works kind of love let me share my love story. It was not one of a Roxane and Cyrano or The Hooker and The Millionaire (although... :) ). Nope, mine was all about the persistence of a good man with a compassionate heart and desire to please a young woman. Now that's a love story. My guy isn't, nor ever will be, a Cyrano or a debonair millionaire (God and I are still having a discussion on that one), on the contrary, he was just a guy who was in love with a girl who hoped that girl felt the same.
True story; on our first real date he took me out for dinner. It was a wonderful dinner, I was beginning to "know" he was the one. Great food, good conversation, a little hand touching...ahh smiles. When dinner was over and the rain was pouring down, my guy had me wait at the door of the restaurant while he went to retrieve the car. As I stood in the doorway, waiting with some of the other restaurant customers who were waiting out the rain I see my guy pull up in his car. As we all stood there in the doorway watching the rain just pour out of the sky we catch a glimpse of this man, my man, who did something no man has ever done before. With the rain beating down he rolled down the passenger window and threw an umbrella out for me to retrieve! In case you missed that last line....he THREW an umbrella out the window for me to retrieve! Now, in his defense, he stated later that he thought it would make it to the door. Um, no. It made it halfway! It didn't even land under the awning. We all stood inside the door, some of the customers laughed, some were puzzled, yet no one knew who this man belonged to until out of my mouth came the words "oh no he didn't!" Yes he did. YES he did. I laugh now but back then, ooowee. Needless to say, I stood there as he got out of the car, picked up the umbrella and escorted me out of the restaurant to the car. My guy. My love.
Why did I later marry this same man? I didn't fall in love with his words, with his ability to woo me, those things can be short lived. No, I fell in love with his soft hands, his attentiveness, his patience, his character, his integrity, his work ethic and his desire and love for me. That, my friend, is a good love story. Real, uncut, devoted. Til death do us part. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things--the bible baby (1Cor 13:4). I forget these things from time to time, but that's where the hard work comes into play. Love is not a game, it is not a fairy tale, it IS a precious gift that needs nurturing, pruning/weeding, and fed....and sometimes, a good healthy dose of crazy to help keep em in line--just sayin.
Until next time,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
Here's this guy who is poetic and knows how to woo a women, Roxane to be exact. But can I just say, she is a dumb broad. Really? When Cyrano and his friend, Christian, are both standing under the infamous tree and she doesn't know the difference between their two voices, what a sap, or when Christian decides to profess his love to Roxane without his sidekick hiding in the bushes and all that comes out of his mouth is "I love you....bunches" (okay, well I paraphrased). I would have figured that mess out quick. At that point I would have had to make a decision---good looks or great words...hmmm.That crazy Roxane fell in love with Cyrano's words spoken through Christian. Unbeknownst to her, she really was in love with the unattractive Cyrano (which she didn't discover until it was too late....dumb broad). I like a good love story just as much as the next person but why do they have to be so unrealistic.
An all time favorite of mine is the classic love story, Pretty Woman (or anything with Julia Roberts, that's my girl). How often do you get to see a movie where a hooker lands a millionaire ("woot, woot")? We watch all these love stories and search for our rich Cyrano's and are in awe when all we encounter in the real world are the humbly waged Tim The Tool Man kind of guys. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the Tim's in the world but our chic flix need to better reflect the men out there.
People, listen, love is not that dang sappy and unrealistic. Love is tricky, crazy, mind boggling, HARD WORK sometimes stupid and jacked up, but when you discover the right one for you all that stuff seems to make sense. I am so sick of people throwing in the towel and not putting in the work all because life seems easier single....well, it may be easier but I will have to say that love--the truly good stuff---was not designed to be easy. That kind of love is built on dedication, patience, kindness, respect, and sometimes a good stiff drink or come to Jesus moment, whatever your preference (I ain't mad atcha).
If you think I am kidding about the crazy but somehow it works kind of love let me share my love story. It was not one of a Roxane and Cyrano or The Hooker and The Millionaire (although... :) ). Nope, mine was all about the persistence of a good man with a compassionate heart and desire to please a young woman. Now that's a love story. My guy isn't, nor ever will be, a Cyrano or a debonair millionaire (God and I are still having a discussion on that one), on the contrary, he was just a guy who was in love with a girl who hoped that girl felt the same.
True story; on our first real date he took me out for dinner. It was a wonderful dinner, I was beginning to "know" he was the one. Great food, good conversation, a little hand touching...ahh smiles. When dinner was over and the rain was pouring down, my guy had me wait at the door of the restaurant while he went to retrieve the car. As I stood in the doorway, waiting with some of the other restaurant customers who were waiting out the rain I see my guy pull up in his car. As we all stood there in the doorway watching the rain just pour out of the sky we catch a glimpse of this man, my man, who did something no man has ever done before. With the rain beating down he rolled down the passenger window and threw an umbrella out for me to retrieve! In case you missed that last line....he THREW an umbrella out the window for me to retrieve! Now, in his defense, he stated later that he thought it would make it to the door. Um, no. It made it halfway! It didn't even land under the awning. We all stood inside the door, some of the customers laughed, some were puzzled, yet no one knew who this man belonged to until out of my mouth came the words "oh no he didn't!" Yes he did. YES he did. I laugh now but back then, ooowee. Needless to say, I stood there as he got out of the car, picked up the umbrella and escorted me out of the restaurant to the car. My guy. My love.
Why did I later marry this same man? I didn't fall in love with his words, with his ability to woo me, those things can be short lived. No, I fell in love with his soft hands, his attentiveness, his patience, his character, his integrity, his work ethic and his desire and love for me. That, my friend, is a good love story. Real, uncut, devoted. Til death do us part. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things--the bible baby (1Cor 13:4). I forget these things from time to time, but that's where the hard work comes into play. Love is not a game, it is not a fairy tale, it IS a precious gift that needs nurturing, pruning/weeding, and fed....and sometimes, a good healthy dose of crazy to help keep em in line--just sayin.
Until next time,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
The Show
As I sat in the stands, in shear agony, I wondered---are there other parents in this place who are ready to run out on the ball court and snatch up their child and run out the doors? Are there? Oh my GRACIOUS Lord, sweet Jesus please let this game be over. These are the very words I screamed in my head as I watched my 5 year old daughter play her first, ever sport, basketball.
You may think that I am overreacting. Well, let's see...during the first half hour (which is the practice portion) she runs onto the court without her team, rolls around on the court and decides that she is thee only one she must acknowledge. The rest of us are all just bystanders, peering into the world of "let's set mommy crazy" starring "The Princess". Yep, and as if that weren't show enough, during her game (while she was suppose to be sitting on the bench) she sprints across the court only to run over to another ball court where another game is taking place. There she decided that one of the teams needed a sixth man.
OMGRACIOUS! I know I said that once already but, holy moly, I was praying for the second coming because I just could not take the agony, not one more second. That practice/game was the longest hour I have ever experienced. I had to send my husband out of the gym because his every word (not in silence) was "what is that girl doing, what-in-the-world is she doing"! Now, either we are just too old for this stuff or she was just off the chain, either way, I wanted to cry because I knew we were coming back the following Saturday to do this show again. Oh, the humanity.
So, after a week of practicing at home, a whole lotta prayin, much discussion about what she should be doing on the court, and some good essential oils (can't hurt to rub the girl down and pray--dear Lord Jesus help this child) we arrived at game number 2. I must say, I was much more relaxed. She made it through the practice portion, somewhat, focused with no 'show'. She made it through the first 15 minutes of the game, no 'show'...now we're truckin....OH but wait...NO....who decides to join us, none other than, The Princess. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, The Princess had arrived and decided, once again, that it was time for the "let's set mommy crazy" show.
That girl ran down the court giving some kid the double fingers to the eye move---you know, the I'm watching you move, TWICE. I hear parents laughing behind me saying, "did you see that girl give that boy the I'm watching you" fingers. Laugh now, it only gets better. The Princess got stopped for stealing the ball (a no no in this kids league). As she sat the bench she decided to follow up with the 'kick a different ball onto the court' move, proceeded by the 'I'm gonna lay right here on the court' move, and the BIG finish was the 'let's make the other teams coach chase me for the ball' move. And, that, my friends, was THEE longest 15 minutes in the history of all time. The beauty of it all is that we get to do it all again next Saturday. OMGRACIOUS, sweet Lord Jesus....(if you are a praying people now would be the time to say a few).
As always,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
You may think that I am overreacting. Well, let's see...during the first half hour (which is the practice portion) she runs onto the court without her team, rolls around on the court and decides that she is thee only one she must acknowledge. The rest of us are all just bystanders, peering into the world of "let's set mommy crazy" starring "The Princess". Yep, and as if that weren't show enough, during her game (while she was suppose to be sitting on the bench) she sprints across the court only to run over to another ball court where another game is taking place. There she decided that one of the teams needed a sixth man.
OMGRACIOUS! I know I said that once already but, holy moly, I was praying for the second coming because I just could not take the agony, not one more second. That practice/game was the longest hour I have ever experienced. I had to send my husband out of the gym because his every word (not in silence) was "what is that girl doing, what-in-the-world is she doing"! Now, either we are just too old for this stuff or she was just off the chain, either way, I wanted to cry because I knew we were coming back the following Saturday to do this show again. Oh, the humanity.
So, after a week of practicing at home, a whole lotta prayin, much discussion about what she should be doing on the court, and some good essential oils (can't hurt to rub the girl down and pray--dear Lord Jesus help this child) we arrived at game number 2. I must say, I was much more relaxed. She made it through the practice portion, somewhat, focused with no 'show'. She made it through the first 15 minutes of the game, no 'show'...now we're truckin....OH but wait...NO....who decides to join us, none other than, The Princess. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, The Princess had arrived and decided, once again, that it was time for the "let's set mommy crazy" show.
That girl ran down the court giving some kid the double fingers to the eye move---you know, the I'm watching you move, TWICE. I hear parents laughing behind me saying, "did you see that girl give that boy the I'm watching you" fingers. Laugh now, it only gets better. The Princess got stopped for stealing the ball (a no no in this kids league). As she sat the bench she decided to follow up with the 'kick a different ball onto the court' move, proceeded by the 'I'm gonna lay right here on the court' move, and the BIG finish was the 'let's make the other teams coach chase me for the ball' move. And, that, my friends, was THEE longest 15 minutes in the history of all time. The beauty of it all is that we get to do it all again next Saturday. OMGRACIOUS, sweet Lord Jesus....(if you are a praying people now would be the time to say a few).
As always,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Lost Child
I finally seized the moment and did some much needed shoe shopping with my friend the other day--hallelujah! I went to an outlet mall. But let me explain a couple of things, first, I don't do cold and this was an OUTlet mall and, second, I don't have it in me to walk half-a-country-mile just to buy some danged ol'shoes. Having said that, God gave me a gorgeous, sun shiny, day and a friend who didn't care to do all that walking either (so I thought) and so, the adventure began....
Do you know that girl had me in nearly every stinkin shoe store there, spouting "you said you needed shoes so stop looking at the price and put a pair on your feet"...who's she talkin to? "Whateva" (I know, such a brilliant come back, oh well). I struggle with paying more than $20 for a pair of shoes...STRUGGLE...let me rephrase, I struggle with buying myself a pair of shoes with a sticker price greater than $20. At any rate, after too many stores and too many texts from my hubby (pretending like my babies were missing me) I purchased 2 pairs of shoes totalling $42. UGH
However, the highlight of my shoe shopping was not the shoes nor the deals, no-sir-ree-bob, the highlight was a momma and her "lost child". As I am standing in the Nike store waiting for my friend to pay for her purchase a momma came up to the clerk and asks "do you guys have a overhead speaker, my child is lost". As the clerk excuses herself to go get the manager I begin to feel panic for this momma. She, however, was way more calm than I ever would have been. So, being me, I ask "are you alright, what does your child look like, how old is he?" The words that came out of her mouth next made me want to punch her clean in her throat. Yes, I said it...BAM...right in the jugular.. That broad had the nerve to say her baby was 20..yes.. TWENTY YEARS OLD...I had to check myself before I wrecked myself.
How in the world are you gonna stand in front of a store manager and ask him to help you find your grown (expletive) son! Really? Let ME help you---no loud speaker needed---BOY, YOUR MOMMA IS READY TO GO, DON'T MAKE HER COME LOOKIN FOR YOU! IF YOU GOIN WITH YOUR MOMMA, WHEREVER YOU ARE IN THIS STORE, YOU BEST HURRY UP AND COME ON OR WALK YOUR HAPPY TAIL ALL THE WAY HOME! I guarantee he, and all the rest of the boys in that store, would have made his way to the front door....do not pass go...straight to jail (or in his case, the car).
Ooowee, I wanted to punch that broad---her child/baby is lost...he's lost alright...lost a ride, lost his man card, lost some hair after I done snatched him bald...Momma's please only announce a lost child if the child is indeed A CHILD (minor, infant, toddler, preschooler, etc).
Deep breath..ooowee...people are crazy.LOL...
Until next time,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
Do you know that girl had me in nearly every stinkin shoe store there, spouting "you said you needed shoes so stop looking at the price and put a pair on your feet"...who's she talkin to? "Whateva" (I know, such a brilliant come back, oh well). I struggle with paying more than $20 for a pair of shoes...STRUGGLE...let me rephrase, I struggle with buying myself a pair of shoes with a sticker price greater than $20. At any rate, after too many stores and too many texts from my hubby (pretending like my babies were missing me) I purchased 2 pairs of shoes totalling $42. UGH
However, the highlight of my shoe shopping was not the shoes nor the deals, no-sir-ree-bob, the highlight was a momma and her "lost child". As I am standing in the Nike store waiting for my friend to pay for her purchase a momma came up to the clerk and asks "do you guys have a overhead speaker, my child is lost". As the clerk excuses herself to go get the manager I begin to feel panic for this momma. She, however, was way more calm than I ever would have been. So, being me, I ask "are you alright, what does your child look like, how old is he?" The words that came out of her mouth next made me want to punch her clean in her throat. Yes, I said it...BAM...right in the jugular.. That broad had the nerve to say her baby was 20..yes.. TWENTY YEARS OLD...I had to check myself before I wrecked myself.
How in the world are you gonna stand in front of a store manager and ask him to help you find your grown (expletive) son! Really? Let ME help you---no loud speaker needed---BOY, YOUR MOMMA IS READY TO GO, DON'T MAKE HER COME LOOKIN FOR YOU! IF YOU GOIN WITH YOUR MOMMA, WHEREVER YOU ARE IN THIS STORE, YOU BEST HURRY UP AND COME ON OR WALK YOUR HAPPY TAIL ALL THE WAY HOME! I guarantee he, and all the rest of the boys in that store, would have made his way to the front door....do not pass go...straight to jail (or in his case, the car).
Ooowee, I wanted to punch that broad---her child/baby is lost...he's lost alright...lost a ride, lost his man card, lost some hair after I done snatched him bald...Momma's please only announce a lost child if the child is indeed A CHILD (minor, infant, toddler, preschooler, etc).
Deep breath..ooowee...people are crazy.LOL...
Until next time,
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Jillian vs Roseann
I will venture to say that every person---especially, every woman---reading this has experienced the roller coaster called weight control or out of control drama. We vow, "I am done with chocolate, done with carbs, done with soda (pop), done with sweets...done, done, done!" Yet, we continue on the dreaded ride that we pray to get off of. I, for one, have been on this cursed ride nearly all my life and it has hindered me in countless ways.
l was 5'9 and weighed 150 lbs in Jr. High. I was the biggest girl in my class and was considered fat. Fat! At that age, young and dumb, I agreed, but NOW, oh my word! I wanna slap somebody right about now (where's that danged Wheezer when you need her)! I just cannot believe the poor body image I had and was allowed to carry around. Little did I know that my personal image during my youth would set the tone for the duration of my womanhood.
So here I am, smack dab in the middle of adulthood, facing the same god-forsaken demon---OH, the humanity! So, lose the weight, you say? I know, right? Why is it such a blasted struggle? I wish I had the magic answer. Hard work and determination, I guess, is part of the magic answer. The other part is you MUST have discipline, self control, accountability, and a team of support. If you are lacking in any of these areas then no diet plan or life style change in the world is going to help you rid that weight. Trust me, I have tried everything under the sun, EVERYTHING, some things have worked, others, well, not so much.
I tell myself often, I am done, but somewhere along the line I falter...I eat a few cookies (or a dozen) or a bag of chips..you know where I am coming from because you have been there too. So, how do I get off this dumb ride? My inner Jillian says "just flippin do it!" Somehow that broad doesn't win out in my head, it's the old, haggard, run down, Roseann that shuts Jillian down! Can't you just hear the battle between them now?
Okay, so I really do need to get it together. I am in my 40's, for crying out loud! I have raised three sons and am in the trenches with a 3 and 5 year old, this should be easy peezy! So, here's the plan gang, I am going to keep you posted and you need to keep me honest. I will revisit this subject matter in a week or so and tell you what has worked, what has not, and whether I have strangled anyone in the process.
In the meantime....
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
Okay, so I really do need to get it together. I am in my 40's, for crying out loud! I have raised three sons and am in the trenches with a 3 and 5 year old, this should be easy peezy! So, here's the plan gang, I am going to keep you posted and you need to keep me honest. I will revisit this subject matter in a week or so and tell you what has worked, what has not, and whether I have strangled anyone in the process.
In the meantime....
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Mirror, mirror...
Do you ever wonder or second guess yourself? Am I strong enough, pretty enough, smart enough? I find myself second guessing my actions as a wife and mother far too often. The roles I should be the most proficient in are the very ones I question.
Confirmation of my success in these roles ought to come like the pats on the back I get from work---my annual certificate of a job well done or my quarterly "you far exceeded this expectation but need a little more work in this area". Maybe that's why I have the Cinderella syndrome? Mirror mirror on the wall whose the best mommy and wife of them all? I need one of those little toys that cheer for you---you know what I'm talking about? the ones where you push the button and there's a collective "yay" that resounds.
I really am not trying to be better than anyone else when it comes to being a wife and mother. I am merely trying to find my stride, know that I haven't scarred my child for life or secretly humiliated my husband. Maybe I am feeling like the wicked witch because I am overloaded, my house is a wreck, laundry is sky high, I haven't showered all day (did I mention the dirty laundry=no clean towels), I have eaten crap all day and did nothing that resembled achievement.
I stated earlier that I had the Cinderella syndrome but it is, in deed, the wicked witch syndrome. Cinderella didn't doubt her beauty, successes, strength or wisdom. On the contrary, it was that crazy witch who needed the confirmation of worth. That crazy lady is the one who stood in that dumb mirror every day talking to that equally crazy man. Someone needed to tell that witch, no, you do not have your stuff together, you are NOT the fairest of them all, you are who you are and that's okay. Maybe then she could have stepped away from that mirror in acceptance. I am that crazy lady, today, I don't have it all together, I have doubted my strength, beauty, and actions and that's quite alright. I guess I will be Crazy Lady today....Cinderella tomorrow (well, hopefully she will make an appearance tomorrow).
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
Confirmation of my success in these roles ought to come like the pats on the back I get from work---my annual certificate of a job well done or my quarterly "you far exceeded this expectation but need a little more work in this area". Maybe that's why I have the Cinderella syndrome? Mirror mirror on the wall whose the best mommy and wife of them all? I need one of those little toys that cheer for you---you know what I'm talking about? the ones where you push the button and there's a collective "yay" that resounds.
I really am not trying to be better than anyone else when it comes to being a wife and mother. I am merely trying to find my stride, know that I haven't scarred my child for life or secretly humiliated my husband. Maybe I am feeling like the wicked witch because I am overloaded, my house is a wreck, laundry is sky high, I haven't showered all day (did I mention the dirty laundry=no clean towels), I have eaten crap all day and did nothing that resembled achievement.
I stated earlier that I had the Cinderella syndrome but it is, in deed, the wicked witch syndrome. Cinderella didn't doubt her beauty, successes, strength or wisdom. On the contrary, it was that crazy witch who needed the confirmation of worth. That crazy lady is the one who stood in that dumb mirror every day talking to that equally crazy man. Someone needed to tell that witch, no, you do not have your stuff together, you are NOT the fairest of them all, you are who you are and that's okay. Maybe then she could have stepped away from that mirror in acceptance. I am that crazy lady, today, I don't have it all together, I have doubted my strength, beauty, and actions and that's quite alright. I guess I will be Crazy Lady today....Cinderella tomorrow (well, hopefully she will make an appearance tomorrow).
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Mighty Twins...ACTIVATE!
Although I do not have twins I do have a 3 and 5 year old (boy and girl) that operate as the activated mighty twins. They are definitely the help me Jesus in everyone of my posts.
My little guy is more like momma---laid back, social, people person, my Princess, although she has my sensitive heart, is her father, thru and thru. That's not a bad thing, just different.
They are both string willed. Actually, she gives whole new meaning to strong willed---she is on the verge of expulsion from pre-K.
I received a call yesterday that went like this....Debra, the kids are good but do you have about 5 minutes ...Ok, I'm here to tell you "do you have about 5 minutes" is never an intro to a happy conversation. I am sure the actual conference will have it's own dedicated blog time. Until then I will move on.
As a 42 year old momma I am TIRED. Do you all hear what I am sayin?! My sisters, all of whom are older than me and my mother, all had babies in their 20's. No, not me, the good Lord decided that he was going to bless me with 3 boys (ages 5,6, and 9) when I married my husband (at age 30) and bring me my final two blessings when I was 38 and 40. I must say that the challenging times of being a step mother and helping to raise 3 boys was SO incredibly different than being a 24/7-can't-send-them-away-give-them-back-kind-of momma. When the boys were little, they shared time between their momma's house and our house, sometimes they lived with us full time and sometimes they didn't. It worked, for the most part. They are now 22, 20 and 19 well adjusted young Marines. OORAH!
I try to blog while I am on my phone so that I can keep an eye on the Mighty Twins, but my phone died and I wanted to finish this. So now they are unattended and in a totally separate part of the house--this is NOT good, and I know this, yet I continue to sit here and type. I figure, as long as I can hear their little voices and they are not whispering, then I am in, somewhat, good shape. It's the silence that sets off the inner mommy alarm that makes you jump up and shout profanities (either internally or audibly). Ok, folks, I hear water and laughter, that is a sign that I have to go....MIGHTY TWINS activate, in the form of ....hopefully they are going for track stars because they better run when I get down there.
Be good to yourself and always a blessing to others.
My little guy is more like momma---laid back, social, people person, my Princess, although she has my sensitive heart, is her father, thru and thru. That's not a bad thing, just different.
They are both string willed. Actually, she gives whole new meaning to strong willed---she is on the verge of expulsion from pre-K.
I received a call yesterday that went like this....Debra, the kids are good but do you have about 5 minutes ...Ok, I'm here to tell you "do you have about 5 minutes" is never an intro to a happy conversation. I am sure the actual conference will have it's own dedicated blog time. Until then I will move on.
As a 42 year old momma I am TIRED. Do you all hear what I am sayin?! My sisters, all of whom are older than me and my mother, all had babies in their 20's. No, not me, the good Lord decided that he was going to bless me with 3 boys (ages 5,6, and 9) when I married my husband (at age 30) and bring me my final two blessings when I was 38 and 40. I must say that the challenging times of being a step mother and helping to raise 3 boys was SO incredibly different than being a 24/7-can't-send-them-away-give-them-back-kind-of momma. When the boys were little, they shared time between their momma's house and our house, sometimes they lived with us full time and sometimes they didn't. It worked, for the most part. They are now 22, 20 and 19 well adjusted young Marines. OORAH!
I try to blog while I am on my phone so that I can keep an eye on the Mighty Twins, but my phone died and I wanted to finish this. So now they are unattended and in a totally separate part of the house--this is NOT good, and I know this, yet I continue to sit here and type. I figure, as long as I can hear their little voices and they are not whispering, then I am in, somewhat, good shape. It's the silence that sets off the inner mommy alarm that makes you jump up and shout profanities (either internally or audibly). Ok, folks, I hear water and laughter, that is a sign that I have to go....MIGHTY TWINS activate, in the form of ....hopefully they are going for track stars because they better run when I get down there.
Be good to yourself and always a blessing to others.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Allow me to introduce myself
Hello my name is...my name is...my name is...ha ha ... .I couldn't resist. My name is Debra and I thought it would be both a hoot and therapeutic for me to create a blog and share some life journeys with whomever cares to read this page.
I am a 42 yr old mother of 5 (three grown step sons and 2 babies---well a 5 yr old and 3 yr old). I know what you're thinkin---what the H E double hockey sticks was she thinkin? 42 and babies. Yep, love em but hoowee! That's where the Jesus help me part comes in.
At any rate, I work a fulltime job, married and every day want to punch those women in their throats for burnin their bras and demanding to be in the workforce. Raising babies, being a wife, trying to be domestic AND work 40+ hours a week for "the man"---ok that's another help me Jesus moment. Heck, I could have called this blog "help me Jesus" and been done with it.
At any rate, I am looking forward to the laughs, the tears and the journey that I am about to trek.
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
I am a 42 yr old mother of 5 (three grown step sons and 2 babies---well a 5 yr old and 3 yr old). I know what you're thinkin---what the H E double hockey sticks was she thinkin? 42 and babies. Yep, love em but hoowee! That's where the Jesus help me part comes in.
At any rate, I work a fulltime job, married and every day want to punch those women in their throats for burnin their bras and demanding to be in the workforce. Raising babies, being a wife, trying to be domestic AND work 40+ hours a week for "the man"---ok that's another help me Jesus moment. Heck, I could have called this blog "help me Jesus" and been done with it.
At any rate, I am looking forward to the laughs, the tears and the journey that I am about to trek.
Be good to yourself and a blessing to others.
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