Thankful #19

Thankful #19: Target

Michelle and Me, Target, Circa 2003

Oh come on, you know you're thankful for it too.

Among my girlfriends, my Mom and I, we have a tradition, one that has been carried on for years. It's a simple thing--admission is free--if you can avoid the temptation.

It all starts with a simple question, "Want to go walk around Target?"

It has become a form of physical activity as well as bonding for me and countless friends. Before I had a baby, I used to get up early and be at Target as soon as the doors opened. Then I would bumble for an hour, enjoying the smell of clean, new merchandise and the small, simple pleasure of walking aisle to aisle without bumping into anyone, just waiting for those delightful orange tags to catch my eye. It's how I Christmas shop all through the year. It clears my head. It helps me think. I stalk the employee's who are tagging new markdowns. And when I leave, I usually walk away with $10 worth of victory--boosting my spirits.

Yes, I am an abuser of retail therapy and it feels so good.

I have been known to travel to every Target within my area (that would be Newnan, Fayetteville, Camp Creek, Tyrone and sometimes Douglasville if I'm really desperate) in one weekend on a clearance bargain hunt. I get obsessed. The longest-running one was the blue basket hunt of 2007. I ended up buying too many, most of which are stacked within each other, empty and unused (for now...)

And I can tell you which Target has the best deals depending on what you're looking for.

For example, Newnan has the best clearance on clothes, hands down. Usually there are racks upon racks, ranging from 30% to the coveted 75% off. My heart thumps harder just thinking about it.

(Anth says I get a wild animal look--My eyes become crazed with the adrenaline of the hunt--he knows to step back and hand over the money--because nothings getting in the way of me and a good deal)

Campcreek has the best deal on seasonal decorations after the season is over.

The one at Lenox (two glorious levels, mind you) has a great selection of hip maternity wear (well, they all do--but Lenox seems to have the most--and if you're bigger like me, a lot of our sizes since Lenox-shoppers tend to be very thin)

And once a year, season's deviating, if you're really lucky, you'll happen to be in store when they mark down all the shoes. Racks upon racks of in-season shoes. I've never had the pleasure. Amanda has been lucky enough to experience such a delight. I shook my fist in envy when I got the message from her. Alas, by the time I made it, the best shoes were gone.

I have memorized the exact location of clearance for each department--one I dare not divulge to you lesser of Target customers--why should I share years of learned knowledge with novices? You might get the last of the clearanced things--the one thing I didn't know I needed until the neon orange told me otherwise. I'm a fierce competitor in the shopping arena as well as a biter so watch out.

My face should be plastered on a sign as you walk in--I've contributed to keeping Target afloat in a bad economy. I could be a Target-consumption expert. On the other hand, I could be a cautionary tale: the woman who raised her baby in Target.

But come on...can you really blame me? Target is that fabulous.

Thankful #18

Thankful #18: 10 Months W/O Sickness

Oliver has been nothing but healthy his entire life (Can you hear that? I'm knocking on wood)
He's had no ear aches, colds, flu, throwing up, allergies (can you imagine what a disaster that would be with 4 animals in the house?). His colic was brief and lasted from 6 pm to 8 pm for maybe a month. He had a little jaundice when he was born...that cleared up within a few days. He has healthy lungs, a swiftly growing body. Being such a big baby, he slept through the night at 2 months old. We never had a problem feeding him...he's always willing to eat and he's not terribly picky.
He's never even had as much as a fever.
We've never had to stay up all night tending to a sick crying child (not yet, I'm sure we're over-due)
He eats well, he poops well and the worst problem we've had is a constant fight against diaper rash (Bordeaux's Butt Paste is where its at, BTW). He is the happiest baby I've ever seen and adjust's easily to changes. He's is a child designed for a mother like me.
I know I am jinxing myself...I'll probably go home to find Oliver suffering from all of the above at the same time.
It's something to be thankful for, when so many other babies are faced with certain problems from day 1. We've never had to worry about his health (other than the usual 'parents worries').
On that note, I'm thankful for my access to health care. Anth and I were talking about this the other day, how horrible it would be to be in another country and to watch your child starve (OK, I know that happens in this country too but if you can drive to a hospital, no one will turn you away)
I'm thankful for having a $25 co-pay and the ability to call 911 should a problem arise. If Oliver gets sick, I have the comfort of knowing I can take him to one of the best children's hospitals in the country.
It stops me in my tracks, when I worry about Oliver, to think about parents who don't have the access/ability/money to care for their child. It breaks my heart--the agony they must feel knowing that they can't prevent their child from suffering. I can only imagine how they feel--I am thankful this is not a reality for me.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, God.

Thankful #17

Thankful #17

A friend with a forgiving heart. Who knows your heart and your regrets; can truly forgive and move on. That is a real friend.

I am lucky to have one of those.
I'm striving to be one of those.

Thankful #16

Thankful #16: My Niece Brooklyn

Although she hasn't made her appearance yet (she's due the day after Thanksgiving), Brooklyn is already someone to be thankful for. My brother Tony and his wife Julie wanted a baby so badly. It was a wonderful surprise when they traveled to visit early this year to announce that they were pregnant. I am so happy for them--now that their dream has become a reality. Becoming a mother is an amazing experience.
Not only will I have a brand spankin' new niece to spoil, Oliver will have a cousin that is less than a year younger than him.
I have all these visions playing out in my mind--of my new little niece. Summers where the kids play, visits with presents tucked away in suitcases. Little Brooklyn is so special to me, being my own brother's little baby girl.
You see, Oliver looks very much like his Uncle Tony. I only hope Brooklyn resembles him as well. I can't wait to share this with Tony...the joys and woes of being a parent. This is something I've wanted for them so badly...for them to experience it all.
This has been a very wonderful year. Julie has had a very easy pregnancy as far as I can tell. She adjusted to it much easier than I did. I know she's impatient...when you're that pregnant it's hard to think logically--chances are, this time next week she'll be home with Brookie. But when you're that pregnant--a week feels like a year. I understand exactly how she feels. And being told that "The baby will come when she's ready" helps no one. I'm just saying.
Anywho, I wanted to give a thankful shout out to my little niece. You've brought our family closer together, little Brooklyn, and you're not even here yet!
I really hope, that the day after Thanksgiving, Anthony, Oliver and I will be traveling to Memphis because that means the baby has come! It doesn't seem real yet.
PS: I'm sorry for the torture you're cousin Oliver will put you through. Boys are a little meaner, you see.

Thankful #15

Thankful #15: No Time to Write Thankfuls

I've been remiss so I apologize to those few people who actually read my blog (OK, one person--Mom)
Like I told her, I've had no time to write thankfuls. After considering that for a bit, I decided that I'm thankful for that.
I've gone into the whirlwind of phase two of my story writing. I go through phases where I am absolutely obsessed with it--to the point that I zone out of conversations because I am creating plot lines--and annoy the heck out of Mom with psycho-analysis of each individual characters (if so and so was raised this way, do you really think she'd do that?) I have been typing so much my hands ache constantly and I couldn't be happier. It's like a testament that I am doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I love it so that my body wears from it.
So, when I'm not typing/constructing/editing/bothering my Mom until the wee hours, I am taking care of Oliver, who is a feisty, busy, healthy 10 month old. He's in to everything all the time, is a ham who is in constant want of my attention.
My time is consumed by so many things:
A decent paying job; so much family that I have to divide my time with; friends always calling, with exciting and different things to do. A husband to carve out quality time with.
I often complain about not having enough down time. I often complain I'm too busy. What an absurd thing to complain about when the alternative would be so depressing. Family that doesn't want to see you, no friends, no love, no child. There are so many people who love me that my cup runneth over.
A girl is lucky to have a plate so full

Thankful #14

Thankful #14: Anna Swir
Her words touch something in me. Always an inspiration.

Great humility fills me,
great purity fills me,
I make love with my dear
as if I made love dying
as if I made love praying,
tears pour
over my arms and his arms.
I don’t know whether this is joy
or sadness, I don’t understand
what I feel,
I’m crying,I’m crying,
it’s humility
as if I were dead,
gratitude,
I thank you, my fate,
I’m unworthy, how beautiful
my life.
— Anna Swir

Thankful # 13

Thankful #13: Small Town Life

I love Fairburn, the city where Anth and I live. I grew up in this town. While living most of my life outside the city limits, my past is entangled with Fairburn's. For starters, my Mom and Mema had an antique shop in Fairburn (in three different buildings throughout the years...2 in Fairburn and one just outside the city limits). I went to elementary school, middle school, high school and attended church in this town. Needless to say, I know everyone in one way or another.
The Old Home Place Antiques was one of the first antique shops in Fairburn and my Mema worked to get others here. I grew up in that antique shop, playing in the storage room when others were in preschool. I spent my afternoons after school with my Mema listening to B 98.5 and talking to all the quirky regulars that came in (explains a lot about why I am so "old"...with my thousand island eatin', sweet tea drinkin', antique collectin' way). I SWORE I would never have antiques in my house. If only I had been a little older--I would have been able to appreciate the time spent there more. Then again, if I had been older, I wouldn't have spent so much time there.
So ending up living in and working for the City of Fairburn was an interesting and unexpected twist. Starting here, I knew or knew of many of people, our histories linking in one way or the other.
And then Anthony became involved in the Neighborhood Watch. It helped him, at first, being married to me. A lot of those people in the neighborhood watch either were friends with my Mema or went to high school with my Dad. But then, Anthony being Anthony, everyone started to love him, as people can't help but do.
It's a nice feeling, driving to work, where I spend my day relaxed, talking to my co-workers--some of who feel like family.
Or going to Oz and seeing at least 3 people I know from when I went to church in Fairburn/went to middle school/high school/work with or have known most my life.
This kind of connection to the place in which you live probably isn't important to most people but to me, it is something I've very proud of. I love to meet someone new, who's lived in Fairburn for fifty years, and find out what their connection is to me, to my family. Inevitably--it is there whether through family relations--or school ties.
Sometimes it's a little awkward--like when someone you went to school with gets arrested and you are present for their first appearance in the jail. Yeah, that's happened a couple of times.
But there are so many perks, so many people who make you feel loved--like the jeweler, who usually fixes my jewelry for free because he's good friends with my Mema, the owner of the antique shop who gave me a killer deal of a set of Franciscan Star Burst dishes for the same reason. Or the neighborhood watch, who came together and bought us a high-chair when Oliver was born. Our neighbors, most of who we've never met, dropping off cards of congratulations, usually with money inside. Or our Mayor--who I'm sad to see go in January--who used to be my Sunday school teacher--who wants to know if I have my baby in the car every time she sees me.

Where as most people have 6 degrees of separation, for me in Fairburn, it's more like 1 or 2. I like this, feeling so inter-connected, being apart of something bigger. Making friends with people much older than me (seems to be the pattern of my life) because we all want the same thing for the town we love--to make it better. Fairburn connects us all, regardless of race, religion, age, etc.
One day when we move, I will be so sad to leave our little community. It will be like leaving a little part of me behind--but then again--I guess that's why we all come together in the first place--to leave little bits of ourselves in something that will be around longer than us.

Thankful #12

Thankful #12: Tybee Time

A little saying

we Tybee-goers use to mean

slowing down

no agenda

doing what you want

when you want.

One time a year

when we clear our schedules

clear our minds

and be together.

Sometimes the house is full

other years

a handful

doesn't matter

as long as we bring

a little Tybee Time home

with us.

Because you don't have

to be on Tybee

to be on Tybee Time.

It's like the shells

we collect

or a sea stone

we carry

always to remind us

of the one week a year

when we bring our dogs

and leave our worries.

We bring Tybee Time home.

We smile and we sigh

and we dream of Tybee Time

on Tybee.

Thankful #11

Thankful #11: My Mother's Favorite Hobby

I'm known to have a horrible memory. Luckily, I seemed to have surrounded myself with people who can remind me of different times of my life. Brandi in middle school, Michelle and Kayleigh in high school and Amanda all the time after. These people with minds like steel traps. I don't know how they do it. Sometimes they recall a hysterical story in which I played a major part and I shrug my shoulders, unable to believe that I really did that, lived that, because I can't remember. It's my least favorite thing about myself. Some time's it feels as if I never lived at all.

Its a genetic thing. My mother can't remember anything and neither can my Mema.

I think that's why my Mother took up photography so that she would never forget the smiles on her children's face, each impossibly awkward phase captured and cherished for always.

I wonder about the future, a hundred years from now. I hope our love of photography is passed down from my children to theirs and so forth. If our pictures are well preserved, future generations will have a very detailed look at my life. My Mother has documented my life with a precise dedication, whether out of habit or because she knew, like her, my memory was doomed.

I grew up with a camera in my face. While her skill have tremendously improved over the years, every stage of learning to me was amazing, her talent only growing, passing expectations I never had.

Every Christmas morning, my brothers and I would have to get up, brush our hair and wait for her to get the camera ready. Then we would have to file down the stairs, one at a time, and make great exaggerated faces of surprise at what Santa had left. These pictures are hysterical now and I foresee myself doing the exact same thing to our children.

I have always been beautiful in my Mother's pictures. Growing up knowing your photograph could be taken at any moment, you learn a defense mechanism of being ready at all times.

I am much more beautiful in pictures than I am in real life and I'm perfectly fine with that.

I am much, much more beautiful in my Mother's pictures. Probably because it's nothing but love coming forth from her, enjoying her hobby as much as she enjoys capturing me and my family and my friends on film. My own child, captured with such a delicate beauty, I can't help but think how lucky I am to have this gift in my life.

It's her way to blend in, to have a part in all the chaos without actually having to be a part of it. A way to get to know people through the safety of her lens. An outside observer,

a creative eye. These things are all my Mother.

I know so many are thankful for her talent and her selflessness in sharing. Her friends and their family,, every season captured on film. My best friend, her adopted daughter, her wedding captured forever, her presence an important part. So much she has done with this gift yet she is neither boastful or self-important. It is never enough in her eyes. Yet in ours, it is everything.

So I am thankful for all the things I remember through the eyes of her pictures, because without them, those memories would leave my mind like a wisp of smoke, dissipating as the years wore on.

It is more than just photographs. They are pieces of her for me to cherish and pass on. She is in every picture just as much as I am.

I, like her, have my identity based in photographs. Something to leave behind, a proof of our having lived; documented happiness.

Because even forced, exaggerated smiles turn into rolling laughter, perfectly recalled stories and a history that will link us all together.

I will never be able to thank her enough.

Thankful #10

Thankful #10: A Big, Fenced in Backyard



It's what drew us to this house.
There is no feeling like releasing the hounds and then locking the door (they've figured out how to open the backdoor. It scares me how evolved they are)
It's beautiful and green in the spring. A pink Mimosa blooms in the fall.
I love our back yard, if only for providing an escape from being a dog owner for an hour or two.
When Oliver's old enough, he will love our back yard, as long as he's careful to avoid the poop.
It's big and safe and sometimes, as I rock on the back porch swing, I marvel that it's all mine (well, Anthony's too)
Every year I have big intentions of gardening. Maybe this year will be the year.
Even without my help, it's lush and warm and wide.
I love love LOVE my back yard.

Thankful # 9

Thankful #9: Boring, Rainy Tuesday Nights

Thankful #8

Thankful #8: My Converse

If I were in that shoe commercial, you know the ones where each shoe represents a different person? Well, I'd be a black chuck taylor.
They represent, to me, the essence of who I am. Pretty silly, I know, to find personal meaning in a shoe. But I love them, especially when I slip them on with work clothes, quietly hiding under my gray dress pants. It's a way to feel like myself in an environment that is so void of personality.
My Ma-chelle gave me my first pair. Red in color with our own personal doodles. I wore them everywhere, including white water rafting. They worked like a charm when it came to wedging my feet under the raft but the shoes, well, they weren't designed for extreme sports. They were so filthy and torn by the end of the trip I had no choice but to throw them away.
I have wanted (longed!) for a pair ever since, never quite being able to bring myself to pay the $40 for them. Such a low amount for something I wanted so fiercely.
I never had the money when I saw them in the store and when I did have the money, they never had the size, color, etc. I asked for them for multiple Christmases and birthdays. When I was pregnant, I even intended to buy a pair to wear in my maternity pictures. By that point I was too tired to walk across a parking lot much less pick out a pair of shoes.
It wasn't until my 24th birthday last year that R&A finally got the hint and bought them for me. I love those shoes, wearing them daily.
They make me feel young. Ridiculous, I know, coming from a 24 year old. Yet when I feel the weight of my life bearing on my shoulders, my shoes help me feel a little more like myself. A little cooler. A little more hip.
Right now my shoes are sitting on the kitchen table, absolutely filthy from wear. This rainy season has proven a formidable opponent to my shoes but my soles will have to talk when I walk before I throw them out.
Now I'm off to google if I can throw them in the washing machine or not....

Thankful # 7

Thankful #7: The Hubs

OK, now I know I already gave Anth a shout out in a previous post, but after further consideration, I think I owe my husband, my friend, the father of my only child more than a few lines. He is, after all, the catalyst that brought me to this very point in my life, the beginning to the happy ending, plus I have all these great pictures to share and many a thankfuls to make up for (I am running so behind...)

Maybe I should start at the beginning. It's hard to put into words the feelings about the man I share my bed, my life with.

I met Anthony through a mutual friend he was dating. I was immediately enthralled, telling my mother I wanted a boyfriend just like him (mine at the time was sorely lacking).

He and his girlfriend broke up and, with only a slight manipulation on my part, we set up a 'date' for him to show me around campus at Georgia State, where he currently attended and where I was set to begin my sophomore year that fall.

I was first drawn to him due to how outgoing he was, how talkative. It's funny now, those who know me, know us, I'm sure are shocked to hear that, especially since I send R & A into quiet hysterics in the back seat when Anth's quick story turns into a 30,000 word novel and I shift, aggravated, before rudely telling him to hurry it along, we don't have all day...

I digress...

He was open and kind, friendly, light. His butt looked great in jeans. He had broad, strong shoulders, was taller than me, physically bigger than me (my mom was thrilled. Up until that point I usually brought home short, skinny guys...).

After that first time, when Anthony so enthusiasticly showed me around Georgia State, I was smitten and I knew, I knew, he had to be mine. After, maybe a week, probably only a few days, I called Anthony up, impatient as always (some things never change, right Anth?) and asked him out (I think my exact words were, "Because I don't have anything else to do") I'm not so sure, looking back, that that was the best approach, but Anth laughed it off and the next day the rest of my life began.

We drove to the north side of Atlanta, where the Chattahoochie opened up spectacularly. He made some hokey excuse to hold my hand and I let him, all a-twitter. By the time we braved the traffic in his 1985 Delta 88, it was dusk. Not 5 minutes after we got out of the car, I kissed him, if only to get it over with, because I knew it was inevitable.

We sat in the middle of the hooch, fog streaming up river around us, eating poorly made (and terribly dry) sandwiches that Anth had made (we laugh about those sandwiches to this day).

By the end of our first date, I knew I was going to marry him. It was almost biological, maybe even spiritual, the connection I felt to him. I know it sounds crazy, but looking at him, this relative stranger, I knew he was the guy I was supposed to have kids with, like some crazy chemical reaction telling me I had found 'the one'. It's weird, I know, my mom thought so too when I came home that night and told her I was going to marry him. She rolled her eyes.

You see, I had recently gotten out of a very serious on-again-off-again relationship and everyone thought we'd eventually end up together, like Carrie and Big (we were really into Sex and the City) so, I admit, my credibility was a little shaky to say the least.

I didn't care what anyone thought.

4 months later we were engaged.

Now, I'm not saying that everything has been perfect. Lord, no. We had a period where we fought like cats and dogs before we were married. Anthony and I had to get used to each other, both with fairly strong personalities. I needed to grow up a little and Anth had a fierce temper. I like to think of that time as us carving ourselves out, like water through a canyon, so that we fit better together. We had a lot of learn.

We married New Years Eve 2005.

Those first few years were hard. We were pretty poor but didn't seem to notice it much. Chet lived with us then and every spare moment was spent with him and R & A. God, we were so young. Even though it was only a couple of years ago, it feels like centuries.

We're at a nice place now in our lives, Anthony and I. Reminiscing about the past is nice and all, but it pales in comparison to where we are now, as people and as individuals.

I'm going to go ahead and say it: I'm a pain in the ass. I'm demanding, selfish, bossy and conceited. If you were to ask me to name 1,000 faults in myself, I could easily. Anthony, on the other hand, maybe I could name 5, and 4/5 of those traits I share.

He's a good man. That is so over-simplifying things its ridiculous, but it's a good place to start. He's a good man who loves his country, his family and his job. He works in a job that tears people down mentally, where divorce rate is more than common and your outlook is considerably darkened by being faced with the worst of what the world has.

Yet.

Yet, he's still bright. The only change in him I've seen from this job is that he's not as silly as he used to be. This man dressed up in pencils and handed them out in the Fayette pavilion once upon a time. Now, he's a little more serious but so am I. But his outlook on life, his faith in humanity, it is still so deeply rooted in him. Anthony is a man who rarely changes, he is as steady and faithful as the sun. The things that are deeply rooted in him do not change. So I don't worry about him losing the light, the good, faithful servant of humanity. He is who he is.

We have one co-worker that spouted off once about the job being the most important thing in his life. More important than his family, his wife. Anthony told him he was crazy. You see, my Anthony is not a self-important man. He loves his job but his family comes first. He dedicates himself to dangerous situations and long hours to better his family. He is loved and respected by everyone he meets because he is deserving. He respects everyone and treats them with kindness and decency. I have had people come to the window to pay a speeding ticket that Anthony wrote, only to tell me how nice and friendly he was.

The thing about Anthony is this: he creates a stable environment and in that I blossom. I've been in emotionally unstable relationships that have turned me into a sniveling, pathetic version of myself.

Anthony always commends me on how strong I am yet he doesn't understand that I derive my strength from him. If our life, our love, wasn't so stable, I'm not sure if I could be so steadfast. I've grown tremendously as a person during the years we've been married and I'm not discounting what is innate in me. I'm sure, even without him, I would have found my way to being the strong, confident, silly, conceited girl I am today. I guess it's kind of like the grass that springs up in the concrete. It grows in the concrete and it grows in the dirt. They both grow, one just has an easier time of it.

And it helps to know, even when I'm wrong, he's my silent supporter.

We have a marriage that I'm proud of. We have no traditional guidelines; I can say with absolute certainty that our marriage is an egalitarian one. We perform roles and tasks because it works for us not because of gender. That is so important to me, that he sees me as a person and is not shrouded with that old-fashioned world view of 'where a woman belongs'.

We work in very backward careers...law enforcement...the good ol' boys society. Some of them are good, decent guys like Anth and I would consider them my friends. Other's I think look down on Anthony for 'not controlling his wife'. I've gotten into it with a couple of those 'good ol' boys' and where I think most men would be embarrassed, Anth was proud. He doesn't care if his co-workers make fun of him for not fulfilling the manly stereotype that they feel so compelled to fill.

His love, you see, like his morals, is unwavering. I have the secure knowledge that his love for me is steadfast and strong. So much so, that he often lets me get away with things he shouldn't. I'm a slob and I'm messy and I often let my crafts or whatever whim I'm involved in the moment to spill all over the house. My clothes are everywhere. Draped on the back of chairs, scattered all over the bed. It is absolutely against my nature to pick up after myself.

He seems blind to my faults or at least too aware of the pride I tend to float on to call me out on these things.

Anth seems to get me, even in silent unspoken ways. Sure, we talk about everything, usually rehashing our day on the back porch swing while Oliver complains in his crib. Yet there are things about me, about my nature, that Anth seems to understand without any further explanation. We tease Anth for how oblivious he is about life yet he has come to understand me in a way few do.

He understands the importance of girl time, how sometimes I need to talk to A, to be with just her. I wonder if he sees the crazed look in my eye or the way I tend to gravitate towards the door. He knows that she is the greatest (platonic) love of my life, my very best friend in the whole world and just as much as he and I are united, she and I are also. He gets that about girls and he gets that about me.

Anth allows me to be. We go hours without talking while we're apart. He usually has no idea where I am and I like that about our relationship. The trust is secure and the space is welcomed. I like the freedom of no one keeping tabs on me (the result of parents who kept too many tabs...), of never having to answer the question, "When are you coming home?" for he knows I will come home when I'm ready, too soon and I'm no good.

It's the easy silence of knowing what the other is thinking, the freedom to just be, to not have to fill any one's expectations of wife or mother, to know when to take the baby because my nerves are shot...it's all these things that make life with Anthony so complete.

And a new kind of love developed when we had Oliver. My Mom told me you love your husband in a new different way once a child is born. That couldn't have been more true. Anthony is the father and partner I always dreamed of. I brag on his fathering skills to anyone who will listen. This guy doesn't 'baby sit' (he scoffs at that term, BTW) but parents. He told me that nothing will ever be more important than taking care of his child (this was, of course, Halloween, when I thought our night was ruined and Anth cheerfully volunteered to stay home and watch the baby after dropping me and A in Atlanta...knowing how important it was for me to escape that night...must have been that desperate look...). He is a better father than I am mother in this phase and I know as our children grow, so will our roles.

And that silliness that I missed? Well, it's still in him, emerging in funny impromptu songs and nicknames intended to provoke a smile out of our 10 month old. He loves our son in a way that will make him a good man.

I have never known the feeling of being over-whelmed for longer than say, 20 minutes, because Anthony has always been there to take O when I couldn't take it anymore. Whereas I am impatient, Anth's patience lingers on and on. The patience of Job, he always tells me smugly. And it's true and it works.

And he never makes me feel bad for my faults, his love for me seemingly as endless as the ocean.

He deserves a better woman than me.

I'm just thankful he doesn't agree.

Thankful #6

Thankful #6: The Bert Show on Q100

I have listened to this station since before it was really a station. I remember being in the shower, listening to music (just music)...no dj's, hardly any commercials...and then one day, there they were...the Bert Show...
I was in 10th grade the year they started and I have made a habit of listening to them every morning that I'm able.
It's funny how you feel like you know people and in a sense, I guess I do. To me, they are more open and less hokey than your typical morning show. I really admire the vulnerability and the humor (especially the humor, first thing in the morning)
When A and I commuted to Georgia State together, we listened to them every morning. They made us laugh and gave us topics of discussion when we were brain-dead from class.
This is kind of a silly thanks, but they deserve it. They make my day better, give me something to look forward to and add a little color to this grey 'cubicle' life...
Now, if only I could win those New Moon tickets...

Thankful #5

Thankful #5: The Twilight Saga

It physically hurts me to be one of the crowd, but I can admit that I am, in fact, a Twi-hard (the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?)
When Kat first suggested I borrow her copy of Twilight, I scoffed.
"I don't do Vampires" I said condescendingly.
Inevitably, I took her copy, only for the fact that I was 7 months pregnant with nothing to read at work. My job, my life had become painfully slow waiting for the arrival of Oliver. I needed something to help pass the time.
I have to admit, I wasn't a fan of Twilight after the first book. I read the second only because Kat had it on hand and I was mildly curious as to where the story would go. I wasn't even aware of the mania that had transpired over this book.
By the end of the second, I was hooked. I couldn't put it down and then, when I finished it, with tears running down my hormonal face, I waddled to Target the second it opened and bought the third. I read this book at work, at home, even in the car with friends. It got to the point where I thought R,A & A were going to have to do a Twilight intervention.
The 4th was much the same. I read that 800-odd page book in a day and a half I believe. I'm just thankful I started the series before Oliver was born, otherwise, well, he might not be as well taken care of.
But you see, these books mean more to me than just a series I obsess about. I don't adore Robert Pattinson (although, at the Big Wicked, there was a guy dressed up as Edward and I almost squealed. Almost.) These books, then and now, provide me with an escape from everyday life. I still read them on a constant rotation and even though I know the books by heart, I find comfort in knowing they wait for me at the end of the day.
The other night, laying in bed, me immersed in Eclipse for the 100th time, Anth leaned over and started talking about fixing our electrical issues or something like that. I held up one finger and said, "We don't talk about life when I am reading Twilight"
When I was pregnant, the Twilight series became a life saver. Something akin to the feelings of falling in love all over again, it was what I felt as I fell in love with the characters. Stephanie Meyer's writing isn't the best sometimes, but her characters and plots are utterly consuming.
And even now, they give me something to look forward to, a place to escape in my mind, where money worries, dog hair, the constant demands of being a working wife and mother, well, don't exist. All I have to worry about (and envy) is Bella's love triangle and the constant danger she puts herself in.
Something about the mood of the books inspire something in me. I started penning another story that has nothing to do with vampires, werewolves or hapless females, yet the mood of the Twilight saga follows me.
You make think me lame but I can't deny how these books have affected my life. Even reconnecting me with an old friend, Brandi. We met for the first time in years to see the first movie and ever since have been talking, visiting more. It provided a common area when our lives seemed so different. Finding out, after taking a closer look, we have more in common than I could ever imagine and the physical distance between us doesn't seem so important anymore. At the last premiere I was pregnant and at New Moon she'll be the pregnant one. Its a nice tradition we set, our dates to the movie premieres. Anthony is not allowed to come with me due to his constant mocking. And I couldn't take any kind of criticism. Criticism is not allowed in that world.
So New Moon is coming out in a few weeks and I could go on and on about how excited I am except that I'm a little embarrassed about my enthusiasm. It's nice though, to have something to look forward to, something that makes you feel 13 again even if your bordering 25.
So, I'm thankful for the Twilight Saga for allowing me a place to escape where hunky werewolves and rich handsome vampires fight over you, even if, in reality, you are seven months pregnant and big as a house. For creating a reality so vastly different from my own. And for rekindling a friendship that has proven to be a highlight in my hum-drum life.

Now, for the question I know you have been dying to ask: Team Jacob or Team Edward?

Well, who says a girl has to choose?
Like Bella, I'll take them both.
Because that, dear friends, is what fantasy is all about :-)

PS: The pictures I added are from Twilightbarbies.com. I had to add them, because even as a Twi-hard, I can't help but laugh at how ridiculously lame and absurd these pictures are. I just didn't want anyone to think I added these pictures seriously :-)

Thankful #4

Thankful#4: God and good suspension

It would have been a very different kind of year.
Driving in my Honda SUV
A typical Tuesday morning.
Around a curve, a car crosses the line.
I wait, expect for them to correct.
They don't.
We're nose to nose, and they keep coming.
My hasty honk startles them
They swerve.
Too late.
I'm in all lanes
Titter-Tottering lane to lane
Trying to avoid the drop off-
bed of rocks;
where I will inevitable flip
and land on my hood.
No doubt.
My other option
A cluster of trees
I'm trying to slow down
but everything locks.
I'm in the other lane.
Then mine.
Then the other.
Praying for the absence of cars.
Because I can't see them.
And they can't see me.
And I am calm
and everything is clear
and slow moving
but my mind is screaming,
"Oliver's in the car!"
And I acknowledge calmly
that we are going to flip.
The way my car is moving,
we are going to flip.
There is no doubt.
In my clear head, I see his life.
Not even 4 months old.
And my life, not finished,
like his,
just begun.
Only 4 months of joy,
of happiness.
Not enough.
I look in my rear-view mirror
as my car spirals out of control.
I see the blue offender
round the curve,
no brake lights
even though we are destined to crash.
Just seconds have passed.
The baby is still asleep.
And my car slows.
Behind are dark stains
of where I was headed.
It was as if something heavy
had slowed us from above.
The hand of God?
We should have gone off the road.
We should have flipped.
It would have been a very different kind of year.
I have no doubt he would have been taken from me;
As a mother, I think you know
when you have escaped death,
by a hairs breath.
When your life
would have been destroyed.
As a mother,
you are aware
of when God has given you
a second chance
to be a mother.
It has been a very good year.
So I'm thankful
for God's hands;
second chances;

and good suspension.

Thankful #3

Thankful #3: Life, just as it is

I realized that I needed to get the 'obvious' thankfuls out of the way so I could really clear my head to focus on the smaller things. Considering this, I didn't want to write, "I'm thankful for my family, for my friends..." it's so generic!

It was then I realized, for the most part, life currently is wonderful. Sure, there are some things I'd change, but this month isn't for complaining.

Life, just as it is, is comforting. Everything glides along effortlessly, the days blurring together out of happiness and ease. There are things about my day, today, things that make my life whole and complete, that could change in an instant. So many things that will change, one day. I need to be thankful today for my life the way it is.

*Both my parents are still kickin' and only a phone call or 15 minute drive away. Our relationship has evolved from total parent dependency to something more akin to friendship. I don't need them like I used to need them, with that feeling of total helplessness. It's a healthier need, more like a want. I want them in my life, and as a parent, there is probably nothing sweeter than your grown child wanting you to be apart of their everyday life, to want to share their life with you, not out of obligation or dependency but because it just makes life better to share, to be open. I don't think some parents would be able to separate their 'child' from the adult they have raised. Mine have. I can't tell you how many times I have marveled at the difference between my parents when I was young and my parents now. They poke fun when I drink too much and consult over tattoo choices. My friends are their 'adopted children' (although that has always been the case). They used to be strict but now they know they don't have to be. Or maybe they see I'm responsible enough to make my own life choices and that the role of 'parent' can now transition into the easier role of 'friend'.

But one day, when they are gone, a part of me will be gone. I will never know happier days than the ones I know now, the days with my parents taking a role in my life. When they are gone, I feel a dark shadow will be cast over every happy moment because I won't be able to share that moment with them.

I know this has taken a morbid turn, but I think if you realize what will be when things change you can truly appreciate what you have now. Plus, we're all morbid. It's in our genes.

*R & A live .7 miles away. This, I believe, will change sooner rather than later because I know A. wants to leave Georgia. Regardless, I love them living so close. One day we will look back at our small starter homes with a wistful sigh. We'll talk about our walks about the city, how we always felt safer knowing the others were so close. A. may not think so now, but one day I know she'll look back at this time and be glad she lived it. We live a simple life, learning how to be grown while still clutching the last bit of what we thought it meant to be 'young'. We're still young, have many more years of youth, but the word has transformed to mean something with much more responsibility than we originally thought.

One day, R & A will leave Georgia, I have no doubt about that. I told her the other day that I was well aware of the change coming, I just wasn't going to think about it until the time came. I'm thinking about it now, sitting at work, knowing, that if she's in--she's only an IM away. If she's still in bed, I could walk to her house in about 5 minutes.

In a few years, this reality will only be our common past. Phone calls will replace nightly visits and we'll have to work on making plans, as visits will have to be scheduled. It will be a very different kind of friendship but one still worth all the extra effort. So I'm thankful for having them so close, physically and emotionally. R&A, they are our constants, and nothing, not even distance, will change that.

*This morning, I woke up to the sound of babble coming from the door way. I peeked in and Oliver was laying in his crib (usually he's bouncing by now). He smiled at me with a sleepy grin and then pulled himself to standing, reaching out to me with chubby little arms. He laid his warm head on my shoulder and then was very still as I changed his diaper (he must have been very sleepy). I recited "GaGaGa" and he repeated it back, in that very definite and very determined little voice. I set him in his pack and play and heard his laughing hello to the dog, who slept near him on the couch. His whine called me to him and his satisfied smile as I gave him his bottle in the car still lingers in my mind. My heart bursts for him and I'm thankful that in my life, just as it is, he's in it.

These baby days are short. His "GaGaGa"s will slowly fade from my memory and I'll only be able to recall the exact sound of his voice through the "GaGa"s of other babies. His teeter-totter walk will smooth out. He'll be running soon, he's already all but stopped crawling. He'll need me less, his chubby cheeks will thin. In a few years, he'll lose that baby look, that baby innocence and one day I'll blink and he'll be a teenager.

I push all those thoughts out of my head. That will come, in it's time, and I'll cherish every moment like the every day moments I struggle to cherish today. So as I type, I can hear his voice, his very determined "Ga"s and picture the way he says them sharply. I can feel how smooth his skin his, see his crumpled face when he cries as well as picture the way he looked when he entered this world. I'm thankful for my life, just as it is today, because tomorrow he will be just a little bit bigger.

*Anthony is in good health which I worry about daily with his smoking habit. Your health can change in an instant, but this blog isn't about worries. It's about acknowledgement of how good your life really is. Anthony is in good health and he is the kind of husband that makes you believe in love. I've been reading my old journals, astonished at how naive I was, how I let others treat me so poorly. I was shocked. That girl is a stranger to me. I know that my life could have turned out so differently if I had ended up alone or with someone else. Everything my life is now is because of Anthony. My job, my friends, Oliver. He was the spark that started the chain reaction, the rest of my life just waiting on him. So I can't begin to be thankful for life, just as it is, because it would be nothing without him.

So, to finish up the longest post I've ever written, I've compiled a list of things I'm thankful for about life today (in no particular order)

*Every morning that Anthony and I work, I take Oliver to his Grandma's house. It is quite a relief to know that he is taken care of, loved, doted on. I don't have the guilt of having to take him to daycare. I know that it's good for him to spend so much time with his grandparents. Sabrina probably pays individual attention to him that I do (I think that is the circle of life, grandparents picking up the slack when the parents are so busy with everything else). Sabrina is always available at short notice, sometimes no notice, and she is always willing to take him. We're so very fortunate that she is able and willing to care for him. It is one of those things I'm thankful for every single day...

*My house. It may have electrical issues, a rotting back porch, a sink that smells funny and palmetto bugs that move in every fall, I love our house. I saw my life in it and although it may be a mess, it is where we need to be.

*My job. I work with all my friends and have blogged for the past 45 minutes without disruption. I don't mind going to work. Its not something I dread, it's a happy part of my life. I know I'll move on one day but it's comfortable and I LOVE all the people I work with.

On that note, that both Anthony and I are gainfully employed, with health insurance. We make enough money to pay the bills as well as have a little left over.

OK, now that some of the basic thankfuls are out of the way, I can clear my head for others to come. Thanks for sticking with this long ass post.

Thankful #1 and #2

For the month of November, I'm going to write an entry a day on something I'm thankful for in honor of Thanksgiving. I think we all get caught up in our everyday lives, in the wants, dwelling on the things we don't have...I'm a fairly sentimental person so please excuse the high level of sappy. Please feel free to share what you're thankful for. I think it will all do us some good to praise God for what we have as well as acknowledge the people in our lives that make our lives what they are...
So, since I'm behind already, here are my #1 and #2 (now, my 'thankfuls' are in no particular order. Just what comes to me in the moment)



Thankful #1: The return of my brother, Michael

About a year ago, we started seeing Mike began showing up, despite by adamant doubting. He's been consistently out of my life, finding his way. Then he was back and the hole in my heart (the one I didn't know I had) was filled. I felt complete, whole, like I had been searching for something I couldn't know until I found it. He has added such depth, meaning and fun into my life as well as glued our family even tighter together. He has added such a dynamic to our family that has altered us permanently, made us less uptight and ready for whatever life throws our way.

You can't help but love Michael. There is something about him that disarms you, that allows you to look through his burly, tattooed exterior into the heart of him. He has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. He would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it, he'd give you the last dollar to his name and he'd protect you to the end.

Unlike when we were children, he feels bad if he hurts my feelings. He won't say it though, he'll just wrap an arm casually over my shoulder or lag behind to walk quietly beside me. When we were kids, he loved to get me riled up. Now, I'm better at turning it off when he antagonizes me and, being older, we have fun ragging on each other. It's the way siblings are supposed to be.

More than anything, Mike has given me an understanding into myself. Even though we grew up separately, it is so unreal to see our similarities. Sometimes he takes off his glasses or wears his hair in a certain way and it startles me, because it's like I'm staring in a mirror. I feel like we are connected in something so much stronger than friendship, more than being siblings or even blood. I get him and he gets me and it's a comfort I have longed for. Plus, there is nothing like knowing someone would die for you. I am the light of his life, his baby sister, and he is the light of mine, my big brother.

I stop, at least once a day, and thank God for this opportunity to get to know my brother. Time with him, this last year, has meant more to me than all the electronic equipment money could buy. Just knowing that I am not alone in this life, in a sibling kind of way, provides a kind of comfort I have sorely been lacking.

I love you, Michael. You mean everything to me.

Thankful #2: I am thankful for nothing going as planned

I had a plan. I formulated this plan when I was probably a freshman. I'd graduate high school, go to college and then become a counselor. Well, I graduated quickly and went straight into grad school.

I will remember this moment until the day I die (which is saying something as my memory leaves something to be desired). I was sitting in the car with Anthony. I was crying, listening to a sad song. Grad school was as easy as I thought it would be. I loved my classmates and teachers. It was a wonderful experience.

Yet.

Yet it wasn't right.

I knew it in my heart, this feeling that I wasn't heading in the direction I was supposed to. Although I liked my classes and classmates, I really hated the counseling aspect of it. I didn't want to spend my life doing it.

This revelation was earth-shattering. I was a girl with a plan, a plan I carefully formulated and counted on. It was then I realized that I was making the plan based on 'money' and 'safety' and not what I really desired in my heart to do.

It's funny, looking back. When I started grad school, I started writing again. It was the first time I had penned an entire book from start to finish. It was the first time I had ever gotten a high from doing something creative. I felt it in my soul that this unknown, unsure path was the one I was destined to take. I was a little girl, wanting to be a writer. But I gave up the dream because the future of writing was unstable. Little did I know this dream would find it's way out one way or another

I have to admit, it was scary to drop out. To tell my parents I was leaving grad school was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, to trust myself enough to know I was doing the right thing for me. I truly became an adult that night as I sat at the end of my driveway, my plan shattering to pieces.

Then we decided, since I wasn't in school and had no idea what I was going to do with my life, we'd start a family. Oliver came along a little over a year later.

I've started writing again. I am just beginning this process, still just writing and learning. I'm considering taking classes and trying to not beat myself up too much for silencing the inner dream long ago and for not majoring in creative writing.

I know, in my heart, I am where I am supposed to be. I have never been happier with my life. So, even if I was saying farewell to a life making more money than my future holds now, I am at peace knowing that even though nothing went as planned, the best future for me is right around the corner. I may not know what it is, but I have faith that something will come of my writing. I feel it in my bones and I've learned there is nothing safer than trusting your own instincts.

Halloween

I thought it was going to be a terrible night.
Well, I should say, I thought, a few days ago, that Halloween was going to be amazing.
Then last week, V announced she had to help her mother move.
Robert had to work.
Mike didn't want to pay the high price for tickets.
That was OK, because Chris, Michelle, Amanda and Anth were coming.
Morning of, Michelle gets a stomach bug. Her and Chris are out.
It' s just me, Amanda and Anth.
Then RC feels bad so O needs another place to spend the night. I felt so bad for RC who felt bad and then guilty.
So Anth was going to drop off Amanda and I and then come pick us up.
Then the weather turned on us. Rainy and cold.
All in all, it was looking like the night was doomed.
Then RC felt better so Anthony could come.
We danced and danced, every song we knew and loved.
I felt so sexy in my new push up bra, in my thinning body. I felt out of my head, bumping to the music, the only link to reality the tiny hand of my best friend as we pushed our way through the crowd.
We danced some more. We laughed. It was good for us, her and I. We needed a night to reconnect, to remember why we are best friends after all.
All three of us dance, sang, swayed, laughed.
Leaving funny messages on Mike's voicemail on the way home, laughing, silly girls.
Jimmy met us at Waffle House around 4. Well, 3 after "falling back"
I woke up exhausted but happy. It was a night to remember. A night to feel young, carefree, alive, stupid.
I needed a break away from the routine. As my body is bouncing back, I see the life I'm missing.
Then I got to go home to my sweet, baby boy. My spirited Oliver.
And I know my wildness runs in him.