I swear, not every blog entry I write from now on will have something to do with my dad. But, it's on my heart, so it's coming out through my words.
This Thanksgiving, there will be a void at the Thanksgiving table. This void will be added to the existing ones which once held places for my great grandmother, grandfather, and grandmother. They say one is the loneliest number, but this year, two seems pretty damn lonely to me.
When my mom asked what I wanted to do for Thanksgiving this year, I immediately had an idea. In the past we'd always done the traditional turkey, dressing, cranberry crap, green bean casserole, rolls, and pie that seem to make up the standard Thanksgiving fare. Having mom slave away over a turkey for just two people seemed silly. I told her I wanted to have Italian food and she said she didn't know how to make it because she never learned how to...dad always cooked it.
And boy, did he.
My daddy was an amazing cook. He could make pasta from scratch and I don't think I'll ever taste anything as good as his lasagna. He would make traditional Italian pastries for special occasions. He'd give out his creations to his friends at Christmas...I always thought it was hilarious he'd give cakes to his favorite spin instructors at the YMCA. Cooking is one thing I got from him, although mom is a good cook too. But she doesn't have the love for it that daddy and I had/have.
So this year, I'm cooking my first holiday meal. I'm making a traditional Italian meal in honor of dad. I'm going to attempt to make the lemon bars he'd always make for mom's birthday, but since the recipe was only in his head, that one will be tricky. But while I'm cooking tomorrow, I'm going to pretend that dad is there watching me and helping me make the pasta dough. I'm going to pretend that he'll do the dishes and complain that I'm not helping. I'm going to pretend that after our meal we'll return to the living room and get trapped watching one of those silly Hallmark holiday movies he loved so much. I'm going to pretend he's sitting in his chair, talking to Cooper the cat, acting like he can't stand the cat but he secretly loves him. I'm going to pretend that before I go to bed, I'll hug him goodnight and tell him I love him.
This will be the first major holiday without dad. Yesterday was five months to the day that he died. It's going to be a hard day. Mom isn't taking it well. There will be many tears. But alongside the tears, there will be memories. Memories of the daddy who would spend hours playing Barbies with me and taking me to pottery lessons in the summer while listening to Oak Ridge Boys tapes. Memories of the man who survived so much in his life but never complained...except about little things like papercuts. Memories of the times I made him proud and I thought his face was going to crack from smiling so wide. Memories of the times I made him laugh, a deep laugh from the belly...most of those came from making fun of my mother's odd habits in some ways. And memories of the last time I told him I loved him.
Treasure your loved ones this Thanksgiving, whether they be the family you were born with or the family you accumulated along the way. Make memories, even if they seem silly or small. Laugh together and love. Be thankful for one another.
I know I am eternally thankful for the 28 years, 132 days, 8 hours, and 2 minutes I got to spend with my daddy.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
A Letter To My Awful Downstairs Neighbor On The Day I Move Out
Greetings readers! Or, reader...
Yes, it's been a long time. I know. I wish I could say I was out saving the whales or walking little old ladies across the street, but really, I've just been lazy. Work was really insane for a while and when I came home at the end of the day, all I wanted to do was watch Modern Family re-runs on TNT and eat roasted mushrooms and green beans, apparently my new favorite thing. Coating in balsamic vinegar and olive oil and roasting for 35 minutes makes pretty much any vegetable a delightful treat.
So what's new since I last wrote?
Well, I'm buying a townhouse. I haven't found it yet, but I'm buying one. Instead of moving apartments when my lease is up, I am going to put down roots and be a big girl and buy something. I had hoped to move to Chicago in the near future, but for a lot of reasons, I just don't see that happening. I'm all mom has left and I don't want to be that far away from her in case something happens. But, things are also going extremely well in my career, and I don't want to give that up to start over somewhere else. My boss is fantastic and gives me lots of great opportunities to grow and learn new skills. Plus, I'm starting a year long leadership program next month that I'm really excited about.
Mainly, I'm excited to have an end date to living in my apartment with the world's loudest man upstairs. I have (frequently) dreamed about writing him a nasty-gram and leaving it on his door on my last day. It would go a little something like this:
Dear Asshole in 1408
It is with extreme pleasure that I bid you adieu, sir. For the past nine months I have listened to you slam your sliding glass door, stomp as loud as an elephant every time you move (which is constantly...do you wear a pedometer or something? Do you have goals as to how many steps you walk each day?), yell at your ex-wife over the phone, scream at your girlfriend in person (wow sir, you sure do know how to treat the ladies), and yell to whoever will listen to you on the phone about how you're trying to get a job and you're not a deadbeat. Well, I kind of think you are, since I've caught you sleeping in your car in the middle of the day on more than one occassion, but that is neither here nor there.
I hope your next downstairs neighbor brings an arsenal of fans and noise machines to drown out your constant blundering around at 2:47 in the morning. I hope they enjoy the plethora (I bet you don't know what that word means) of decorative cigarette butts you so kindly drop onto my porch on a daily basis. And I really hope they enjoy listening to you throw items and break them, only to immediately vaccum them up. At least you're tidy. I'd hate if you cut your foot on a piece of ceramic lamp you demolished during one of your stomping tirades. With as hard as your feet land, the piece of lamp would get jammed up practically to your ankle.
So good luck to you in finding a job, being nicer to your poor girlfriend (no idea why she puts up with you...maybe you make a mean lasagna?) and working toward not being a total dick. Let me know how that works out for you.
Or actually...don't. Because I'm moving out and I never have to see or hear you again.
Best,
Your newly-liberated former neighbor in 1404
Yes, it's been a long time. I know. I wish I could say I was out saving the whales or walking little old ladies across the street, but really, I've just been lazy. Work was really insane for a while and when I came home at the end of the day, all I wanted to do was watch Modern Family re-runs on TNT and eat roasted mushrooms and green beans, apparently my new favorite thing. Coating in balsamic vinegar and olive oil and roasting for 35 minutes makes pretty much any vegetable a delightful treat.
So what's new since I last wrote?
Well, I'm buying a townhouse. I haven't found it yet, but I'm buying one. Instead of moving apartments when my lease is up, I am going to put down roots and be a big girl and buy something. I had hoped to move to Chicago in the near future, but for a lot of reasons, I just don't see that happening. I'm all mom has left and I don't want to be that far away from her in case something happens. But, things are also going extremely well in my career, and I don't want to give that up to start over somewhere else. My boss is fantastic and gives me lots of great opportunities to grow and learn new skills. Plus, I'm starting a year long leadership program next month that I'm really excited about.
Mainly, I'm excited to have an end date to living in my apartment with the world's loudest man upstairs. I have (frequently) dreamed about writing him a nasty-gram and leaving it on his door on my last day. It would go a little something like this:
Dear Asshole in 1408
It is with extreme pleasure that I bid you adieu, sir. For the past nine months I have listened to you slam your sliding glass door, stomp as loud as an elephant every time you move (which is constantly...do you wear a pedometer or something? Do you have goals as to how many steps you walk each day?), yell at your ex-wife over the phone, scream at your girlfriend in person (wow sir, you sure do know how to treat the ladies), and yell to whoever will listen to you on the phone about how you're trying to get a job and you're not a deadbeat. Well, I kind of think you are, since I've caught you sleeping in your car in the middle of the day on more than one occassion, but that is neither here nor there.
I hope your next downstairs neighbor brings an arsenal of fans and noise machines to drown out your constant blundering around at 2:47 in the morning. I hope they enjoy the plethora (I bet you don't know what that word means) of decorative cigarette butts you so kindly drop onto my porch on a daily basis. And I really hope they enjoy listening to you throw items and break them, only to immediately vaccum them up. At least you're tidy. I'd hate if you cut your foot on a piece of ceramic lamp you demolished during one of your stomping tirades. With as hard as your feet land, the piece of lamp would get jammed up practically to your ankle.
So good luck to you in finding a job, being nicer to your poor girlfriend (no idea why she puts up with you...maybe you make a mean lasagna?) and working toward not being a total dick. Let me know how that works out for you.
Or actually...don't. Because I'm moving out and I never have to see or hear you again.
Best,
Your newly-liberated former neighbor in 1404
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
The Art of Writer's Block
Writing has been tough the past couple of months. I've already written two pretty depressing entries but don't worry...this is not a third. Or at least, I set out at 1:00 a.m. this morning to make it cheery. We'll see how things go.
I've just been uninspired lately. I haven't really had any major adventures (other than Kroger on Senior Tuesday), haven't passed any major milestones (I guess I did turn 28 & 1/2) and haven't made any amazing discoveries (other than I could possibly live on hot & sour soup for the rest of my life if I needed to because it is my new FAVORITE. And we all know how I hate all-caps.)
I've started and scrapped several blog entries over the past few weeks. Below is a comprehensive list (maybe not completely comprehensive...I get the distinct feeling I started a blog entry in a wine haze after too many glasses of Lonely Cow after a dinner) but it's the best you're going to get.
Live-Blogging the MTV movie awards: At this point, why bother posting? You're over it, I'm over it, and the only thing that isn't over it is Miley Cyrus's tongue. One of the best parts of the show was the Beyonce Pepsi commercial (yes, a repeat, I know. The show was that bad.), the NSYNC reunion was way too brief but I don't think 4/5's of the guys could have gone on much longer, I'm even more excited to see JT in November than I already was, and I think the show was in Brooklyn but I'm not positive because they didn't say where it was located enough. Done. You're welcome for that summary.
My Thoughts On the Current State of Traffic in Nashville: Spoiler alert - it's turrible. I think the source of my ire comes from the fact that school has started back up, thus adding 20 minutes to my commute each morning. I did get some satisfaction this morning when a motorcycle cop pulled over the jackass who cut from the back of the right lane waiting to merge on I-40 all the way to the left lane in front of me, forcing me to let her in or rear end her. He looked very mad (he was on the shoulder of the exit ramp) and waived her over angrily. I can't imagine that he could do anything but scold her and shake his finger at her, but it did give me some sort of sense of justice in the world. Bravo, cop. Bravo.
Apparently I'm Really Good At Coming Up With Insults: My co-worker/friend/sorority sister has brought out this new-found talent within me. She'll usually ask me, "Okay, so this person isn't quite a (really bad name) but (mediocre bad name) doesn't do him/her justice. What's in between?" She's asked me this two times and both times I have come up with a satisfactory answer. I won't write on here what I say because I know once it's on the interwebs it never goes away, and I don't want my future litter of children to find this on their holographic 3D super speed computers and ask why mommy was allowed to say bad things if they weren't. My biggest fear is that my kid's first word will be 'fuck.' Who am I kidding...I'll laugh. Let's be honest. But I'll try to do so out of earshot of my children. And I'll probably blame it on their daddy.
How Excited I Am To Watch Sports I Care About Again: But really, who isn't excited that football is back and basketball is vastly approaching? This would be completely uninteresting and therefore, I did not get past the first sentence.
The Art of Personal Space: I have a big thing about personal space. I live in a very small bubble and not everyone is invited to invade said bubble. I can't stand hover-ers at work, who will stand in front of you until acknowledged, even if you're on the phone and I can't stand to be hugged unless I know you and at least one dirty secret about you. But this is turning into a negative entry and I'm trying not to do that. Remember, 'Choose Joy' and all that...I got it tattooed on my body for a reason...listen to your tattoo!
Thos are the few I can remember and could write something witty about. Lots of entries didn't even make it past the first line. I hope you enjoyed my (attempted) return at my normal style of blogging. Hopefully I'll have more of my wisdom (opinions) to contribute to the world soon.
Love & Light
I've just been uninspired lately. I haven't really had any major adventures (other than Kroger on Senior Tuesday), haven't passed any major milestones (I guess I did turn 28 & 1/2) and haven't made any amazing discoveries (other than I could possibly live on hot & sour soup for the rest of my life if I needed to because it is my new FAVORITE. And we all know how I hate all-caps.)
I've started and scrapped several blog entries over the past few weeks. Below is a comprehensive list (maybe not completely comprehensive...I get the distinct feeling I started a blog entry in a wine haze after too many glasses of Lonely Cow after a dinner) but it's the best you're going to get.
Live-Blogging the MTV movie awards: At this point, why bother posting? You're over it, I'm over it, and the only thing that isn't over it is Miley Cyrus's tongue. One of the best parts of the show was the Beyonce Pepsi commercial (yes, a repeat, I know. The show was that bad.), the NSYNC reunion was way too brief but I don't think 4/5's of the guys could have gone on much longer, I'm even more excited to see JT in November than I already was, and I think the show was in Brooklyn but I'm not positive because they didn't say where it was located enough. Done. You're welcome for that summary.
My Thoughts On the Current State of Traffic in Nashville: Spoiler alert - it's turrible. I think the source of my ire comes from the fact that school has started back up, thus adding 20 minutes to my commute each morning. I did get some satisfaction this morning when a motorcycle cop pulled over the jackass who cut from the back of the right lane waiting to merge on I-40 all the way to the left lane in front of me, forcing me to let her in or rear end her. He looked very mad (he was on the shoulder of the exit ramp) and waived her over angrily. I can't imagine that he could do anything but scold her and shake his finger at her, but it did give me some sort of sense of justice in the world. Bravo, cop. Bravo.
Apparently I'm Really Good At Coming Up With Insults: My co-worker/friend/sorority sister has brought out this new-found talent within me. She'll usually ask me, "Okay, so this person isn't quite a (really bad name) but (mediocre bad name) doesn't do him/her justice. What's in between?" She's asked me this two times and both times I have come up with a satisfactory answer. I won't write on here what I say because I know once it's on the interwebs it never goes away, and I don't want my future litter of children to find this on their holographic 3D super speed computers and ask why mommy was allowed to say bad things if they weren't. My biggest fear is that my kid's first word will be 'fuck.' Who am I kidding...I'll laugh. Let's be honest. But I'll try to do so out of earshot of my children. And I'll probably blame it on their daddy.
How Excited I Am To Watch Sports I Care About Again: But really, who isn't excited that football is back and basketball is vastly approaching? This would be completely uninteresting and therefore, I did not get past the first sentence.
The Art of Personal Space: I have a big thing about personal space. I live in a very small bubble and not everyone is invited to invade said bubble. I can't stand hover-ers at work, who will stand in front of you until acknowledged, even if you're on the phone and I can't stand to be hugged unless I know you and at least one dirty secret about you. But this is turning into a negative entry and I'm trying not to do that. Remember, 'Choose Joy' and all that...I got it tattooed on my body for a reason...listen to your tattoo!
Thos are the few I can remember and could write something witty about. Lots of entries didn't even make it past the first line. I hope you enjoyed my (attempted) return at my normal style of blogging. Hopefully I'll have more of my wisdom (opinions) to contribute to the world soon.
Love & Light
Sunday, August 18, 2013
The Art of Eating Soup
Hi readers:
It's been a long while. Well, I wrote a post right after my dad passed away six weeks ago, but I didn't post it very long. You see, I've been very curious about people's varying reactions to the news of my father's death. You have the people who are genuinely sorry, the people want information they have no business knowing, the people who start crying about a loss they suffered (oh, so do I comfort you now?) and the people who just don't know what to say. I've experienced all of those, and I'm usually pretty fine with people's reactions, but one thing really did set me off.
I started off my previous blog saying that at that point, I had told the details to pretty much everyone I wanted to/needed to, and I wouldn't be going into detail in my blog. I guess I should have written in all caps DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS because apparently some people didn't get that memo. I know that when you post something on a social networking site you open yourself up to criticism and comments. I get it. But damn, not ten minutes after I posted the article to my Facebook account someone who I knew in college but hadn't seen for years commented some version of the following: Wow, sounds like your dad survived a lot. What happened? You can send me a private message if you'd like.
Oh really? A private message? Gee, you are so thoughtful! Thank you for taking into account that I might not want to share the details of my dad's death on Facebook. You're such a giver. Obviously you didn't really read what I wrote because I clearly said I had already told people I wanted to/needed to know. I'm debating on whether or not to block that person from being able to read this entry. I'm not calling them out by name, and I don't really care if they're offended I'm writing about them. I'm not responsible for their reaction to my feelings.
Anyway, that's why I took a break from writing. And also, I haven't been super inspired lately. I just try to get through life one day at a time. Some days that's easier than others, and some days, friends, you aren't going to be able to win. I shared with my friend C at lunch yesterday that some days, there is no right answer. If you say one thing, I'll have wished you said another. If you said the other thing, I would be pissed you didn't say the first thing. I'm self-aware enough to know this is not fair. I try and stay away from people on days like that. But, in our open office area at work, it's pretty impossible. My friend/sorority sister/co-worker said I need a sign on my desk that says 'Today is not your day.' And I really do. But I don't want to be my mother and start constructing signs and taping them to doors of the house saying 'Do not knock, ring doorbell, leave anything or visit. DOCTOR'S ORDERS'. Yeah. Because that happened and it's totally normal and not anti-social/borderline rude. At all.
I spend a lot of time at home, reading and eating soup. Because when you have to be ON and social and pleasant 40 hours a week because it's your job, sometimes you just don't want to pretend anymore or put on a show. I don't want to pretend to be happy at happy hour. Because I'm not happy. Not all the time, but I'm still very sad. I'm doing things to cope and get help with dealing with this huge change in my life, but I'm a work in progress. My friends have been amazing, giving me space when I need it and watching Pitch Perfect for the 177th time when I need to be around people. I'm not very good asking people for help. So even if I don't respond to a text or email or phone call for a few days, I appreciate you checking in.
Speaking of soup, last night I went to Kroger and spent $30 on hot and sour soup and bleu cheese stuffed olives because that's the only meal that sounded good to me. You'd think I was pregnant or something. Which I know is not possible. Well, I guess it could be, but considering the amount of times a day I say the word 'fuck', I doubt God would pick me as an incubator for Jesus Jr. Call it sacrilege, I call it honesty. Because let's be honest, the last thing I need is a kid. I can barely take care of my diva of a cat.
So that's my life right now: soup, work, books, and the occasional social event. And that's okay. I've been doing a little bit of dating, which I haven't done in a long time, but we'll see. maybe I'll find someone to eat soup with me, and maybe not. But I'm trying. I think that's actually my life right now: I'm trying. I'm trying to be happy, do my job, be a good friend, check in on others, be supportive, and lots of other things. I know I don't always succeed, but know that I want to. Be better. My HR friends at work will like that one.
Until next time...oh, and if you get a chance, go back and read my previous entry. Because I'm proud of it. Just don't ask how he died. There. I said it. It is spelled out. I've done all I can.
It's been a long while. Well, I wrote a post right after my dad passed away six weeks ago, but I didn't post it very long. You see, I've been very curious about people's varying reactions to the news of my father's death. You have the people who are genuinely sorry, the people want information they have no business knowing, the people who start crying about a loss they suffered (oh, so do I comfort you now?) and the people who just don't know what to say. I've experienced all of those, and I'm usually pretty fine with people's reactions, but one thing really did set me off.
I started off my previous blog saying that at that point, I had told the details to pretty much everyone I wanted to/needed to, and I wouldn't be going into detail in my blog. I guess I should have written in all caps DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS because apparently some people didn't get that memo. I know that when you post something on a social networking site you open yourself up to criticism and comments. I get it. But damn, not ten minutes after I posted the article to my Facebook account someone who I knew in college but hadn't seen for years commented some version of the following: Wow, sounds like your dad survived a lot. What happened? You can send me a private message if you'd like.
Oh really? A private message? Gee, you are so thoughtful! Thank you for taking into account that I might not want to share the details of my dad's death on Facebook. You're such a giver. Obviously you didn't really read what I wrote because I clearly said I had already told people I wanted to/needed to know. I'm debating on whether or not to block that person from being able to read this entry. I'm not calling them out by name, and I don't really care if they're offended I'm writing about them. I'm not responsible for their reaction to my feelings.
Anyway, that's why I took a break from writing. And also, I haven't been super inspired lately. I just try to get through life one day at a time. Some days that's easier than others, and some days, friends, you aren't going to be able to win. I shared with my friend C at lunch yesterday that some days, there is no right answer. If you say one thing, I'll have wished you said another. If you said the other thing, I would be pissed you didn't say the first thing. I'm self-aware enough to know this is not fair. I try and stay away from people on days like that. But, in our open office area at work, it's pretty impossible. My friend/sorority sister/co-worker said I need a sign on my desk that says 'Today is not your day.' And I really do. But I don't want to be my mother and start constructing signs and taping them to doors of the house saying 'Do not knock, ring doorbell, leave anything or visit. DOCTOR'S ORDERS'. Yeah. Because that happened and it's totally normal and not anti-social/borderline rude. At all.
I spend a lot of time at home, reading and eating soup. Because when you have to be ON and social and pleasant 40 hours a week because it's your job, sometimes you just don't want to pretend anymore or put on a show. I don't want to pretend to be happy at happy hour. Because I'm not happy. Not all the time, but I'm still very sad. I'm doing things to cope and get help with dealing with this huge change in my life, but I'm a work in progress. My friends have been amazing, giving me space when I need it and watching Pitch Perfect for the 177th time when I need to be around people. I'm not very good asking people for help. So even if I don't respond to a text or email or phone call for a few days, I appreciate you checking in.
Speaking of soup, last night I went to Kroger and spent $30 on hot and sour soup and bleu cheese stuffed olives because that's the only meal that sounded good to me. You'd think I was pregnant or something. Which I know is not possible. Well, I guess it could be, but considering the amount of times a day I say the word 'fuck', I doubt God would pick me as an incubator for Jesus Jr. Call it sacrilege, I call it honesty. Because let's be honest, the last thing I need is a kid. I can barely take care of my diva of a cat.
So that's my life right now: soup, work, books, and the occasional social event. And that's okay. I've been doing a little bit of dating, which I haven't done in a long time, but we'll see. maybe I'll find someone to eat soup with me, and maybe not. But I'm trying. I think that's actually my life right now: I'm trying. I'm trying to be happy, do my job, be a good friend, check in on others, be supportive, and lots of other things. I know I don't always succeed, but know that I want to. Be better. My HR friends at work will like that one.
Until next time...oh, and if you get a chance, go back and read my previous entry. Because I'm proud of it. Just don't ask how he died. There. I said it. It is spelled out. I've done all I can.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Advice From A Girl Who Just Lost Her Dad
Hi readers.
Not going to lie, it has been a pretty shitty two weeks. It's been an emotional roller coaster and the ride won't be over for a long time. My father, who had survived cancer, a clinical trial where he was the only survivor, a heart attach and a blood clot condition, finally encountered something he couldn't fight and I lost him at 5:08 p.m. on June 26th. They say everyone grieves in their own way, and writing has always been therapeutic for me. I won't go into a lot of details about what happened and please respect that decision by not asking for more information. I tell the people I want to know the whole situation and if you haven't heard by now, it's not important that you know.
I decided to write this list of advice I'd offer to other people my age. I hope anyone reading this never has to experience what I'm going through, but who knows...this could be helpful to someone at some point in their life. The following list of advice is just my opinion.
1.) Always take an ambulance when offered.
2.) Know your family members' allergies, medical history, and medications. At my age, 28, I would assume most people know vague summaries of their parents' and siblings' medical histories, but not enough to go into much detail. Because my parents haven't been in the best of health, my family is a little different. I was very knowledgeable about medical procedures my father had in the past, his allergies, and his medication, both the schedule and dosages. This was very important because it allowed his doctors to get to work faster, once he arrived in Nashville. You think as the child, it would be another parent's responsibility to know this information. But you can't always count on your other parent being available, or in the correct state of mind, to be helpful.
3.) Know your family members' final wishes. When we were asked if we wanted to remove the breathing mask, even though by doing so it meant he would not survive, we knew what dad wanted. Quality of life was so much more important than quantity of life. We knew he wanted to be comfortable but he didn't want to stick around this Earth if he wasn't going to enjoy his life. We were able to give him a peaceful passing, and although my heart still hurts so much every time I think about it, I have solace in the knowledge that we did what my daddy wanted.
4.) This one is heavily just my opinion, but I would say don't look at the person in their last moments. Mom and I were in the room, holding his hand when he passed. I just stared at his hand because I did not want to see the last breathe he took. We sat there for a little over an hour and the nurse would update us on his breathing. When she said it was slowing down, I watched only his chest, watching it rise and fall slower and slower. When it didn't rise for a time, I went out to the nurses' station to let them know it was over. But, God was exceptionally cruel that day and when I entered the room, daddy took one last breath, and I saw it. It's an image that keeps me awake at night and gives me nightmares when I finally do sleep. I find myself thinking back to that moment during the day and I have to hold in my emotions at work. I know with time it won't be so prevalent in my memory, but right now, it's all I think about. Who knows. If I hadn't been in the room I may be crying at the fact that I wasn't there. There's no way to know how I would feel if I did something differently. I just know that right now, in this moment, I wish I hadn't seen that.
5.) Grieve the way you want to grieve. There are days I want to be around friends. There are days I want to be by myself. There are days I avoid everything going on and seem happy. There are days when I'm tired of saying I'm okay when I'm really not. I shouldn't be afraid to admit that some days, I am not okay. I will be, but some days I just don't want to hide how sad I am. I don't want to put on a show so people won't think I'm going to break. My friends and co-workers have been so great to me and I couldn't ask for a better support system. But know if I don't reply to a message or if I cancel plans, it's not because I'm losing it, I just want to feel what I feel and not have to put on a face for anyone.
6.) Prepare yourself for upcoming life events. I know weddings are going to be very hard. That doesn't mean that I don't want to support my friends getting married or that I don't want to be at their weddings. I wouldn't miss the two I have coming up for the world. But I am mentally preparing myself for the father/daughter things. For a while, when things weren't the best between me and my dad, I had said I didn't want him to walk me down the aisle. Now that I don't have that option anymore, I want it more than anything. Same with the father/daughter dance. I know I'll be surrounded by friends at both weddings and I love the couples who are getting married dearly. I just have to know what to expect, surround myself with friends, and concentrate on the love in the room between my friends who are lucky enough to find their other halves. The first year is going to be hard too, because every holiday/event will be the first one without dad. His birthday is in September, I had said we'd go to the UK/Vandy football game together this fall as his Father's Day present, and Christmas is going to be very lonely. Not to mention my birthday, Father's Day next year, and pretty much any significant event that happens to me. I started bawling the other day when I was watching some random tv show and a girl had just given birth and handed her father his first grandchild to hold.
I really don't have much else. This weekend will be hard because it will be the first time I've been at the house when he wasn't there. It'll be weird to not see him sitting in his chair by the computer, playing solitaire. It will be weird to not have him comment on how messy my car is when he fills up my gas tank for me before I'd return home. And it'll be weird to walk out of the house, not having him hug me and tell me he loves me. But I'll get through it, just like I'll get through next week, and next month, next year, and all of the rest of the years of my life. But even though I'll get through it, the hole in my heart which houses the pain of loss of my grandmother and grandfather, definitely got a little bigger two weeks, one day, and four hours and forty two minutes ago.
Not going to lie, it has been a pretty shitty two weeks. It's been an emotional roller coaster and the ride won't be over for a long time. My father, who had survived cancer, a clinical trial where he was the only survivor, a heart attach and a blood clot condition, finally encountered something he couldn't fight and I lost him at 5:08 p.m. on June 26th. They say everyone grieves in their own way, and writing has always been therapeutic for me. I won't go into a lot of details about what happened and please respect that decision by not asking for more information. I tell the people I want to know the whole situation and if you haven't heard by now, it's not important that you know.
I decided to write this list of advice I'd offer to other people my age. I hope anyone reading this never has to experience what I'm going through, but who knows...this could be helpful to someone at some point in their life. The following list of advice is just my opinion.
1.) Always take an ambulance when offered.
2.) Know your family members' allergies, medical history, and medications. At my age, 28, I would assume most people know vague summaries of their parents' and siblings' medical histories, but not enough to go into much detail. Because my parents haven't been in the best of health, my family is a little different. I was very knowledgeable about medical procedures my father had in the past, his allergies, and his medication, both the schedule and dosages. This was very important because it allowed his doctors to get to work faster, once he arrived in Nashville. You think as the child, it would be another parent's responsibility to know this information. But you can't always count on your other parent being available, or in the correct state of mind, to be helpful.
3.) Know your family members' final wishes. When we were asked if we wanted to remove the breathing mask, even though by doing so it meant he would not survive, we knew what dad wanted. Quality of life was so much more important than quantity of life. We knew he wanted to be comfortable but he didn't want to stick around this Earth if he wasn't going to enjoy his life. We were able to give him a peaceful passing, and although my heart still hurts so much every time I think about it, I have solace in the knowledge that we did what my daddy wanted.
4.) This one is heavily just my opinion, but I would say don't look at the person in their last moments. Mom and I were in the room, holding his hand when he passed. I just stared at his hand because I did not want to see the last breathe he took. We sat there for a little over an hour and the nurse would update us on his breathing. When she said it was slowing down, I watched only his chest, watching it rise and fall slower and slower. When it didn't rise for a time, I went out to the nurses' station to let them know it was over. But, God was exceptionally cruel that day and when I entered the room, daddy took one last breath, and I saw it. It's an image that keeps me awake at night and gives me nightmares when I finally do sleep. I find myself thinking back to that moment during the day and I have to hold in my emotions at work. I know with time it won't be so prevalent in my memory, but right now, it's all I think about. Who knows. If I hadn't been in the room I may be crying at the fact that I wasn't there. There's no way to know how I would feel if I did something differently. I just know that right now, in this moment, I wish I hadn't seen that.
5.) Grieve the way you want to grieve. There are days I want to be around friends. There are days I want to be by myself. There are days I avoid everything going on and seem happy. There are days when I'm tired of saying I'm okay when I'm really not. I shouldn't be afraid to admit that some days, I am not okay. I will be, but some days I just don't want to hide how sad I am. I don't want to put on a show so people won't think I'm going to break. My friends and co-workers have been so great to me and I couldn't ask for a better support system. But know if I don't reply to a message or if I cancel plans, it's not because I'm losing it, I just want to feel what I feel and not have to put on a face for anyone.
6.) Prepare yourself for upcoming life events. I know weddings are going to be very hard. That doesn't mean that I don't want to support my friends getting married or that I don't want to be at their weddings. I wouldn't miss the two I have coming up for the world. But I am mentally preparing myself for the father/daughter things. For a while, when things weren't the best between me and my dad, I had said I didn't want him to walk me down the aisle. Now that I don't have that option anymore, I want it more than anything. Same with the father/daughter dance. I know I'll be surrounded by friends at both weddings and I love the couples who are getting married dearly. I just have to know what to expect, surround myself with friends, and concentrate on the love in the room between my friends who are lucky enough to find their other halves. The first year is going to be hard too, because every holiday/event will be the first one without dad. His birthday is in September, I had said we'd go to the UK/Vandy football game together this fall as his Father's Day present, and Christmas is going to be very lonely. Not to mention my birthday, Father's Day next year, and pretty much any significant event that happens to me. I started bawling the other day when I was watching some random tv show and a girl had just given birth and handed her father his first grandchild to hold.
I really don't have much else. This weekend will be hard because it will be the first time I've been at the house when he wasn't there. It'll be weird to not see him sitting in his chair by the computer, playing solitaire. It will be weird to not have him comment on how messy my car is when he fills up my gas tank for me before I'd return home. And it'll be weird to walk out of the house, not having him hug me and tell me he loves me. But I'll get through it, just like I'll get through next week, and next month, next year, and all of the rest of the years of my life. But even though I'll get through it, the hole in my heart which houses the pain of loss of my grandmother and grandfather, definitely got a little bigger two weeks, one day, and four hours and forty two minutes ago.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
I Can Never Eat Anything Delicious Again...Or, At Least For Three Months
Sorry readers (or, reader) it's been a while. I know. Life got in the way, I wasn't feeling creative, and frankly, I was cranky most of the last month and although I can be extra funny when I'm cranky, this was the less than enjoyable cranky Anna that comes out when she's sick. You do not want to deal with her. I don't either.
So the reason for my crankiness is because I haven't been feeling well. I've had an ongoing health issue that has been getting progressively worse and was really starting to affect my life. It sounds dire, but it's not. It's nothing serious, I'm working on ways to control it, and there are plenty of people who are worse off than I am. I could alleviate whatever slight worry you might be feeling for me by telling you what it is, but I'm not going to do that. And I have a very good reason.
Basically, this is my journey. And while I appreciate when people say, "Oh, well that happens to me too and this is what I do...", I actually don't want to hear it. I'm a strong believer that different things work for different people. And some might think the way I've been instructed to go about things is stupid. Although you are entitled to your opinion, I don't want to listen to it. I've discussed this at length with my healthcare professional, done all the research, and I think it's the best way for me. It may not end up working and then you can say you told me so, but until then, keep your comments to yourself, k? Thanks.
So in addition to starting medication, I have to cut out all foods that can trigger my ailment. And let me tell you, there are a lot of foods that can be triggers. The thought is that I'll cut out all of these foods for about three months and then I can start adding them back in. If I start feeling bad again after I add a food back into my diet, I'll know that if I want to feel better, I need to stop eating it again. My hope is to be able to control this by diet and will be able to go off of the medication. I'm not against medicine when it can make you feel better. And if I need to continue taking it I will. But if I can control this naturally, I'd much rather do it that way. (cue BSB 'I Want It That Way' as background music.)
So below are the foods I have to cut out and my reactions to each:
Processed Meat
Okay, not a huge deal. No bacon or sausage, but I don't eat a ton of those anyway. Although ever since I found out they were on the list of banned foods, I have really wanted a bacon cheeseburger.
Cheese
THIS IS A HUGE DEAL. I love cheese. I frequently have bleu cheese crumbles for dinner. And I love goat cheese on crostini with strawberries and basil. And queso is delicious. I could survive on cheese alone. Okay, well I'd probably feel like shit, but it would be awesome for a few days. This also means no pizza. Slightly devastating.
Nuts
To this, I say, aw nuts! Okay, I'm not really that cheesy. Again, not a huge deal. Until you realize that your oatmeal packets have nuts in them and have to awkwardly pick them out at your desk.
Chocolate
Don't like it anyway. I could care less.
Food With Preservatives
No more lean cuisines, smart ones, or hot pockets. Damn. Those quick meals will be missed.
Cultured Dairy Products
This is actually a huge deal to me because I love sour cream. It's a great ingredient for sauces, spreads, marinades,...a lot of things. One of my favorite go-to dinners is to bake chicken breats in the oven topped with a layer of sour cream and italian breadcrumbs. Easy and delicious, every time. Well, not anymore. At least not for three months.
MSG
No Chinese food for me and NO SOY SAUCE. That is a huge deal, considering my weekly sushi Wednesday pilgrimages to Koto. I have found an alternative and might become that lady that brings her own sauces to restaurants. You gotta do what you gotta do.
Caffeine
I'll miss it, but I can do without it. I've given up caffeine before and shockingly did not get one single withdrawal headache. This leads me to doubt that it is responsible for what I have since my body doesn't react negatively to the absence of it, but what do I know?
Fresh Baked Goods w/ Yeast
So no cakes or doughnuts or bread. I only like bread out of that list and I can do without it. But damn. I'm not even done with the list and I'm getting depressed all over again about my options.
Canned Soups
All soups must be homemade. Goodbye, Campbell's Creamy Tomato. Goodbye.
Potato Chips
I'm not even going to remark how heartwrenching this is. I'll just say that for my birthday this year, instead of a cake, I was given a jumbo bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. That is how much I love the things. Luckily I've gotten used to roasting chickpeas and edamame in the oven with different spices, which is a nice substitute.
Alcohol
Except at the wedding of the Favorite Redhead. I have to drink to the happiness of my favorite couple. Plus, champagne, red wine, whiskey and beer are the main bad guys, so having a couple of glasses of white wine would be okay, right?
There are a few other things but these are the main ones. It's a lot like clean eating, which is really good for you, so hopefully I'll get healthier as well as feel better. Plus, I'll be saving money not eating out as much since I'm not going to pay for someone to drizzle lemon juice over a bed of lettuce and charge me $13 for a 'salad.' I'll do that myself at home. I'm sure after two weeks or so I'll be so used to it I won't even miss the other foods. That's a blatant lie. I will always miss bleu cheese and potato chips.
I am comforted in the fact that it might not be goodbye for forever to some of my favorite foods, but moreso a see you later.
I am now starving after writing about food. That's the equivalent of looking at Pinterest right before dinner. Damn.
So the reason for my crankiness is because I haven't been feeling well. I've had an ongoing health issue that has been getting progressively worse and was really starting to affect my life. It sounds dire, but it's not. It's nothing serious, I'm working on ways to control it, and there are plenty of people who are worse off than I am. I could alleviate whatever slight worry you might be feeling for me by telling you what it is, but I'm not going to do that. And I have a very good reason.
Basically, this is my journey. And while I appreciate when people say, "Oh, well that happens to me too and this is what I do...", I actually don't want to hear it. I'm a strong believer that different things work for different people. And some might think the way I've been instructed to go about things is stupid. Although you are entitled to your opinion, I don't want to listen to it. I've discussed this at length with my healthcare professional, done all the research, and I think it's the best way for me. It may not end up working and then you can say you told me so, but until then, keep your comments to yourself, k? Thanks.
So in addition to starting medication, I have to cut out all foods that can trigger my ailment. And let me tell you, there are a lot of foods that can be triggers. The thought is that I'll cut out all of these foods for about three months and then I can start adding them back in. If I start feeling bad again after I add a food back into my diet, I'll know that if I want to feel better, I need to stop eating it again. My hope is to be able to control this by diet and will be able to go off of the medication. I'm not against medicine when it can make you feel better. And if I need to continue taking it I will. But if I can control this naturally, I'd much rather do it that way. (cue BSB 'I Want It That Way' as background music.)
So below are the foods I have to cut out and my reactions to each:
Processed Meat
Okay, not a huge deal. No bacon or sausage, but I don't eat a ton of those anyway. Although ever since I found out they were on the list of banned foods, I have really wanted a bacon cheeseburger.
Cheese
THIS IS A HUGE DEAL. I love cheese. I frequently have bleu cheese crumbles for dinner. And I love goat cheese on crostini with strawberries and basil. And queso is delicious. I could survive on cheese alone. Okay, well I'd probably feel like shit, but it would be awesome for a few days. This also means no pizza. Slightly devastating.
Nuts
To this, I say, aw nuts! Okay, I'm not really that cheesy. Again, not a huge deal. Until you realize that your oatmeal packets have nuts in them and have to awkwardly pick them out at your desk.
Chocolate
Don't like it anyway. I could care less.
Food With Preservatives
No more lean cuisines, smart ones, or hot pockets. Damn. Those quick meals will be missed.
Cultured Dairy Products
This is actually a huge deal to me because I love sour cream. It's a great ingredient for sauces, spreads, marinades,...a lot of things. One of my favorite go-to dinners is to bake chicken breats in the oven topped with a layer of sour cream and italian breadcrumbs. Easy and delicious, every time. Well, not anymore. At least not for three months.
MSG
No Chinese food for me and NO SOY SAUCE. That is a huge deal, considering my weekly sushi Wednesday pilgrimages to Koto. I have found an alternative and might become that lady that brings her own sauces to restaurants. You gotta do what you gotta do.
Caffeine
I'll miss it, but I can do without it. I've given up caffeine before and shockingly did not get one single withdrawal headache. This leads me to doubt that it is responsible for what I have since my body doesn't react negatively to the absence of it, but what do I know?
Fresh Baked Goods w/ Yeast
So no cakes or doughnuts or bread. I only like bread out of that list and I can do without it. But damn. I'm not even done with the list and I'm getting depressed all over again about my options.
Canned Soups
All soups must be homemade. Goodbye, Campbell's Creamy Tomato. Goodbye.
Potato Chips
I'm not even going to remark how heartwrenching this is. I'll just say that for my birthday this year, instead of a cake, I was given a jumbo bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. That is how much I love the things. Luckily I've gotten used to roasting chickpeas and edamame in the oven with different spices, which is a nice substitute.
Alcohol
Except at the wedding of the Favorite Redhead. I have to drink to the happiness of my favorite couple. Plus, champagne, red wine, whiskey and beer are the main bad guys, so having a couple of glasses of white wine would be okay, right?
There are a few other things but these are the main ones. It's a lot like clean eating, which is really good for you, so hopefully I'll get healthier as well as feel better. Plus, I'll be saving money not eating out as much since I'm not going to pay for someone to drizzle lemon juice over a bed of lettuce and charge me $13 for a 'salad.' I'll do that myself at home. I'm sure after two weeks or so I'll be so used to it I won't even miss the other foods. That's a blatant lie. I will always miss bleu cheese and potato chips.
I am comforted in the fact that it might not be goodbye for forever to some of my favorite foods, but moreso a see you later.
I am now starving after writing about food. That's the equivalent of looking at Pinterest right before dinner. Damn.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Seven Times My Mom Tried To Turn Me Into A Girly Girl...And Failed
I am not a girly girl. I'm definitely not a tomboy either. I've never had an issue with the fact that I was just as happy to play ninja turtles in pre-school with all of the other boys rather than dress up and have tea parties with no tea. I mean, what's the use of pouring someone a play cup of tea if there is no actual liquid going in the cup? Girl needs some applejuice.
Being the only child of an only child, my mom had lots of high hopes for me growing up. She wanted, nay, demanded that I be valedictorian, go to law school, become a doctor/lawyer/award-winning playwright, and have a gaggle of children with my rich husband. Well, I'm 1/4 on her major wishlist. Sorry Susan.
Another thing that she desperately wanted me to be was a girly girl. Mom dreamed of the days where she and her daughter would do eachother's nails and dress in lots of pink. Well, that didn't really ever happen. Below are seven of the most memorable instances of me disappointing my mother in my non-girliness. Which is now, apparently, a word.
1.) I hated dance. My mom dreamed of having a ballerina in the family, but I guess she'll have to settle for dressing the dog up in a tutu. I could have cared less. During dance class I was more concerned with the girls who got to launch themselves at the vault during gymnastics class. My costumes had sequins all over them, but God, were they itchy and uncomfortable. Plus, there were all the feathers. I LOATHE feathers. Dance and me, were not a perfect marriage.
2.) I gave up gymastics for softball. My mom finally caved and allowed me to take gymnastics, beginning when I was six. I suppose she figured it still counted as dance considering I took lessons at a dance studio. Well, in third grade, I developed another love: softball. My grandfather loved teaching me how to catch the ball and bat. As readers of this blog are aware, my grandfather was the most important person in my life before he passed away. I learned all of the MLB teams and mascots. He would quiz me while I swung on my tire swing in the backyard. Not so coincidentally, but my love affair with softball and baseball developed the summer Baskin Robbins sold ice cream sundaes in miniature baseball helmets of MLB teams. I was a fat kid, so this was very appealing to me. I'd say we needed to go to Baskin Robbins so I could get another baseball helmet, but really, I wanted the chocolate fudge sundae. With no cherry. After a few years of doing both gymnastics and softball, I had to pick just one, as my practice schedules were becomming more and more demanding. Even though my mom desperately pleaded (and bribed) to try and get me to stick with gymnastics, I chose softball. Because nothing made me feel better in the world than hearing my grandfather cheer for me when I hit the ball.
3.) I refused to have a pink room. Mom and dad decided that they were going to redecorate my room. They wanted me to make the transition from little girl room with the Barbie sheets to the big girl room with floral patterned wallpaper. Pink floral patterned wallpaper. Even though I was only seven, I knew what I wanted. And it was not pink. I wanted UK blue (I started out as a fan young) but mom thought my fandom was fleeting. Wrong. I finally compromised with mom enough to have lavender wallpaper...even though I wanted royal purple. At least I didn't have pink. Although, I did notice that even though my bedspread was lavendar, pink sheets kept popping up underneath the covers. Neither of us acknowledged this fact. I silently compromised and mom acted like she knew nothing was amiss. I've mentioned before how good my family is at avoidance. Prime example.
4.) All I wanted to wear to school were Adidas pants and UK shirts. For Christmas each year my mom would stuff my 5 foot tall stocking (remember, only child) to the brim with outfits full of ruffles, sparkles, and silky fabric. That makes it sound like my stocking was full of stripper outfits, but don't worry, it wasn't. Each year I'd look at the pile of clothing in front of me and promptly exit the living room to put on my comfy Adidas pants and UK tshirt that was my normal Middle School era attire. I wanted to be comfortable, not cute. I mean, I was chubby, still had 80s bangs, braces to fix my horribly crooked teeth, an acne problem, and I was 12. No amount of frills or flair was going to make me look cute. I stuck to my comfort while mom wistfully glanced at the outfits she had bought me, only to be discarded for tshirts as old as our pets were.
5.) Red car vs blue car. When I was 16, because of my good grades and my aversion to ever disobeying my parents, mom and dad said they'd buy me a car. Obviously, I was super excited. We went to the car lot, I test drove some of my favorites, and I was down to two: a red Pontiac Sunfire with a sunroof and a blue Oldsmobile Alero, also with a sunroof. Obviously, mom liked the red car because she said it was more lady like. Obviously, I liked the blue one because it was blue. Blue won out. My mom's mortification only grew when I hung Mardi Gras beads in the rearview mirror. No, I didn't earn them (but I might next weekend while in New Orleans!...no, I really won't) but that didn't make any difference to her.
6.) Sexy prom dress vs ball gown. Senior prom was approaching. I had a hot date I'd never met in person (story for another time), was super tan, and I was ready to buy my prom dress. I tried on two that I loved: a mint green fluffy ball gown, and a sexy white one shoulder with gemstone lined oval shaped cutouts that traced a curve from one shoulder, over my chest, down to the opposite hip. I went with the white dress, even though because of the location of the cut outs, I could not wear underwear. Mom thought taking me to Fredericks of Hollywood to find some sort of underwear contraption to wear would be a great idea. When they handed an 18 year old girl a g-string with rhinestones and clear plastic straps mom figured out that probably wasn't the best idea and told me it would be best just to go without
7. The time I told my mom I didn't want a wedding, I just wanted to go to the courthouse. This probably hit my mom the hardest...well, maybe the me giving up dance was harder, but this one was close. When talking about my dream wedding with my mother at one point (probably during a Say Yes to the Dress marathon), I dropped the bombshell that I didn't want a wedding at all. I wanted to go to the courthouse, have a party for all my friends afterwards, and go on a kickass honeymoon. No fluffy white dress, no father/daughter dance, no gross wedding cake. She cried. Like, huge tears, ugly face cried. I tried to explain to her how silly it was to spend so much money on one day and I could use my wedding fund for a down payment on a house, but she was having none of it. I have since changed my mind (although the courthouse/huge party idea is still appealing) but I haven't told her that. Because if I did, she'd be coming to me with floral arrangement ideas and possible invitation prints. And I'm not even dating anyone.
Again, I'm not a tomboy, but I'm definitely not the girly girl my mom dreamed that I'd be. I curse too much, I have a tattoo (still not sure if she's aware I went through with that decision) and I have a sense of humor that is more snarky than charming. But, I think my mom is still pretty happy with the way I turned out.
And one shoutout to my grandfather, Daddy Cliff, who would have been 91 tomorrow. Even though I mortify my mother sometimes with my language and life decisions, I know he's up there in heaven laughing at every curse word I say, enjoying every awkward situation I get into and saying, "That's my girl." I love you Daddy Cliff. Forever and always and a day.
Being the only child of an only child, my mom had lots of high hopes for me growing up. She wanted, nay, demanded that I be valedictorian, go to law school, become a doctor/lawyer/award-winning playwright, and have a gaggle of children with my rich husband. Well, I'm 1/4 on her major wishlist. Sorry Susan.
Another thing that she desperately wanted me to be was a girly girl. Mom dreamed of the days where she and her daughter would do eachother's nails and dress in lots of pink. Well, that didn't really ever happen. Below are seven of the most memorable instances of me disappointing my mother in my non-girliness. Which is now, apparently, a word.
1.) I hated dance. My mom dreamed of having a ballerina in the family, but I guess she'll have to settle for dressing the dog up in a tutu. I could have cared less. During dance class I was more concerned with the girls who got to launch themselves at the vault during gymnastics class. My costumes had sequins all over them, but God, were they itchy and uncomfortable. Plus, there were all the feathers. I LOATHE feathers. Dance and me, were not a perfect marriage.
2.) I gave up gymastics for softball. My mom finally caved and allowed me to take gymnastics, beginning when I was six. I suppose she figured it still counted as dance considering I took lessons at a dance studio. Well, in third grade, I developed another love: softball. My grandfather loved teaching me how to catch the ball and bat. As readers of this blog are aware, my grandfather was the most important person in my life before he passed away. I learned all of the MLB teams and mascots. He would quiz me while I swung on my tire swing in the backyard. Not so coincidentally, but my love affair with softball and baseball developed the summer Baskin Robbins sold ice cream sundaes in miniature baseball helmets of MLB teams. I was a fat kid, so this was very appealing to me. I'd say we needed to go to Baskin Robbins so I could get another baseball helmet, but really, I wanted the chocolate fudge sundae. With no cherry. After a few years of doing both gymnastics and softball, I had to pick just one, as my practice schedules were becomming more and more demanding. Even though my mom desperately pleaded (and bribed) to try and get me to stick with gymnastics, I chose softball. Because nothing made me feel better in the world than hearing my grandfather cheer for me when I hit the ball.
3.) I refused to have a pink room. Mom and dad decided that they were going to redecorate my room. They wanted me to make the transition from little girl room with the Barbie sheets to the big girl room with floral patterned wallpaper. Pink floral patterned wallpaper. Even though I was only seven, I knew what I wanted. And it was not pink. I wanted UK blue (I started out as a fan young) but mom thought my fandom was fleeting. Wrong. I finally compromised with mom enough to have lavender wallpaper...even though I wanted royal purple. At least I didn't have pink. Although, I did notice that even though my bedspread was lavendar, pink sheets kept popping up underneath the covers. Neither of us acknowledged this fact. I silently compromised and mom acted like she knew nothing was amiss. I've mentioned before how good my family is at avoidance. Prime example.
4.) All I wanted to wear to school were Adidas pants and UK shirts. For Christmas each year my mom would stuff my 5 foot tall stocking (remember, only child) to the brim with outfits full of ruffles, sparkles, and silky fabric. That makes it sound like my stocking was full of stripper outfits, but don't worry, it wasn't. Each year I'd look at the pile of clothing in front of me and promptly exit the living room to put on my comfy Adidas pants and UK tshirt that was my normal Middle School era attire. I wanted to be comfortable, not cute. I mean, I was chubby, still had 80s bangs, braces to fix my horribly crooked teeth, an acne problem, and I was 12. No amount of frills or flair was going to make me look cute. I stuck to my comfort while mom wistfully glanced at the outfits she had bought me, only to be discarded for tshirts as old as our pets were.
5.) Red car vs blue car. When I was 16, because of my good grades and my aversion to ever disobeying my parents, mom and dad said they'd buy me a car. Obviously, I was super excited. We went to the car lot, I test drove some of my favorites, and I was down to two: a red Pontiac Sunfire with a sunroof and a blue Oldsmobile Alero, also with a sunroof. Obviously, mom liked the red car because she said it was more lady like. Obviously, I liked the blue one because it was blue. Blue won out. My mom's mortification only grew when I hung Mardi Gras beads in the rearview mirror. No, I didn't earn them (but I might next weekend while in New Orleans!...no, I really won't) but that didn't make any difference to her.
6.) Sexy prom dress vs ball gown. Senior prom was approaching. I had a hot date I'd never met in person (story for another time), was super tan, and I was ready to buy my prom dress. I tried on two that I loved: a mint green fluffy ball gown, and a sexy white one shoulder with gemstone lined oval shaped cutouts that traced a curve from one shoulder, over my chest, down to the opposite hip. I went with the white dress, even though because of the location of the cut outs, I could not wear underwear. Mom thought taking me to Fredericks of Hollywood to find some sort of underwear contraption to wear would be a great idea. When they handed an 18 year old girl a g-string with rhinestones and clear plastic straps mom figured out that probably wasn't the best idea and told me it would be best just to go without
7. The time I told my mom I didn't want a wedding, I just wanted to go to the courthouse. This probably hit my mom the hardest...well, maybe the me giving up dance was harder, but this one was close. When talking about my dream wedding with my mother at one point (probably during a Say Yes to the Dress marathon), I dropped the bombshell that I didn't want a wedding at all. I wanted to go to the courthouse, have a party for all my friends afterwards, and go on a kickass honeymoon. No fluffy white dress, no father/daughter dance, no gross wedding cake. She cried. Like, huge tears, ugly face cried. I tried to explain to her how silly it was to spend so much money on one day and I could use my wedding fund for a down payment on a house, but she was having none of it. I have since changed my mind (although the courthouse/huge party idea is still appealing) but I haven't told her that. Because if I did, she'd be coming to me with floral arrangement ideas and possible invitation prints. And I'm not even dating anyone.
Again, I'm not a tomboy, but I'm definitely not the girly girl my mom dreamed that I'd be. I curse too much, I have a tattoo (still not sure if she's aware I went through with that decision) and I have a sense of humor that is more snarky than charming. But, I think my mom is still pretty happy with the way I turned out.
And one shoutout to my grandfather, Daddy Cliff, who would have been 91 tomorrow. Even though I mortify my mother sometimes with my language and life decisions, I know he's up there in heaven laughing at every curse word I say, enjoying every awkward situation I get into and saying, "That's my girl." I love you Daddy Cliff. Forever and always and a day.
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