This is going to be a little different from my other posts since I just want to get the info out. No funny stuff, just the facts so that everyone is clear on what's going on. It's been brought to our attention that people heard that Woody has cancer. The truth is, we don't know yet but we hope not. Here is everything that has happened in the last month.
On July 28, Woody received a call from the City of San Antonio Wellness Center. Woody had his routine annual physical done the week before where they had also done blood work. The nurse asked him how he felt and he told her that he felt fine. She then told him that his platelet level was low, his white blood count was high, and that he needed to set up an appointment with a hematologist/oncologist.
On July 31, we went to Woody's first appointment. The doctor came in and told us that she wanted a retest of his lab work, and an ultrasound of his liver and his spleen to see if either were enlarged. We asked several questions but she was very vague. "It could be a number of things" seemed to be her favorite answer. She sent us on our way and said that we would see them in two weeks.
On August 15, we were back at the doctor. They had received the results of the blood work and ultrasound. His white blood count and platelet count remained the same, and his spleen was slightly enlarged. The doctor ordered for a bone marrow biopsy to be done the next week. He informed us that the lab takes 10-12 days to process the sample, so he would see us in two weeks.
Now, we had multiple issues with this doctor's office. Lucky for Woody, he married a mean, old, cackling hen. I had enough of getting the run around on the phone for two days, so I hopped my happy ham in the car and drove over to their office. I said that I would not be leaving until things were handled and it was handled in a matter of fifteen minutes. Call it "Mother's Intuition", "Mama Bear Syndrome", or "Best Wife Ever-itis", but I had a bad feeling about this doctor's office on our first visit. So I did some research and found a new physician.
On August 28, we went on our way to his new doctor, Dr. Guzley. He tells us that he has his bone marrow biopsy results (after only 4 business days...hmmmm) and that the reports are conflicting. The preliminary report says cancer, and the final report "is much less dramatic". (Yep, those are his words). He tells us he is going to run more labs, two of which have not been done before but they should of, and he is going to look at Woody's bone marrow for himself and see what's going on. We asked him a bunch of questions and he finally looked at us and said, "As your physician, I am not going to make a diagnosis based off of speculation. Let's look at the facts, see what your labs say, and I'll see how your bone marrow looks, and we'll go from there." Woody and I both felt at ease and like we were in the right hands.
The next day, August 29, I called Woody that evening to see how his day at work was going. He tells me that Dr. Guzley called him....personally. Woody says, "Well, Dr. Guzley said he wanted to call me before the weekend and give me a little bit of positive news. He said he looked at my bone marrow and everything appears to be okay. He wanted to talk to the doctor that wrote the prelim report so he can see exactly what the other doc saw, but that doctor was already gone for the day. He said that we're not out of the woods yet, but this is a little bit of good news." Part of me wants to jump for joy, but then the words "we're not out of the woods yet" keep lingering in the back of my mind. We go back to see Dr. Guzley on September 11 to see what he says.
I know that many of you are going to want to pick up the phone and call Woody or me to see how we are feeling, how we are doing, tell us we need to see a certain doctor, to share medical advice, or to ask if there is anything we need....and we appreciate it! But right now, we are trying to keep as normal of a home life as possible. Not for us, but for our precious girl, Peyton, that has no idea what we are dealing with. As you can imagine, it is really hard to keep the home life normal when we are constantly on the phone. Right now, we are okay. Woody still feels great physically, I'm good, Peyton's good....we're good. And we now have a great physician who we are confident in! I will do my best to keep everyone informed, so if you would like me to add you to the update list, email me at cgwoodcock@gmail.com. I hope that I've answered everyone's questions for now. Thank you again to all of our friends and family for their prayers and support. We will continue to trust in God's perfect plan, and pray for strength, healing, courage, and grace.
Much Love-
Chrystal
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Ballsy in 2013
Happy 2013 y'all! I know it has been a while since my last entry (seems like I start each entry with this apology)...There is a lot to read in this one to get to the point of this story but I feel like it is necessary to relive the events prior to today in order for you readers to understand why this irritated me more than it normally would.
I can't lie,the past month has been pretty dang exciting! I celebrated my 30th birthday with a surprise party thrown by my girl, Reagan....then my gypsies gave me ANOTHER surprise party at work! I am one lucky gal! Mid December, I left all good behavior behind, packed up my bags with boots, teasing combs, hairspray, and 100 pounds of jewelry and headed to Vegas with Reagan and Cheyenne for my first NFR experience! We had a blast! Then......it all went downhill once I got back home......
The day after I got back from Vegas, I started to feel a cold coming on....figures. I never go anywhere and the first thing that happens when I travel is I get sick. So at first I think it's nothing major and decide that I can just tough it out. Well, fast forward 24 hours and I have a 102 temperature. I go to the doctor and he says, "The only thing you can have with that high of a fever is pneumonia, or the flu....and your lungs sound fine. 4 out of the 5 people I have seen this week with the flu, had the flu shot (I had mine is September)...sorry....I'll send you out a script for Tamiflu." Fine. I continue to cough so hard, I am constantly peeing my pants...or even better, I throw up. Pretty sexy, huh?!?! I had gone to the doctor on a Friday, felt horrible through the weekend, Monday was Christmas Eve, Tuesday was Christmas Day...being sick during the holidays is no bueno. I missed Christmas at my Nanny's with all the grand kids and great grand kids on my mom's side of the family, missed Christmas Eve church service, and Christmas Eve with the Woodcock's....I was not happy....I had so much crap in my lungs that my daughter is telling me that I was "snoring awake". No honey......that's my lungs....rattling....so Wednesday I roll into the doctor with no voice and bags under my eyes from no sleep.....I tell doctor dude to dope me up so much that I sleep for a week....(I'm really hoping my doc is Conrad Murray at this point...) I need something to stop the coughing or I will lose my friggin' mind. You know what this "doctor" tells me? "Well, the reason you are coughing is because there is crap in your lungs and it needs to come out. If you stop the coughing, then it can't come out and then you'll REALLY have pneumonia. But for now, here is enough steroids to choke and elephant....but let's send you for a chest xray since I can't really hear your lungs over all the wheezing." Oh, lovely.... It took everything in my being (which wasn't much at this point) to not jump on top of this guy and choke him out until he agreed to write me a script for whatever the hell I wanted. Whatev......I come home, take 5 Prednisones, a puff of Advair, a few hits of Albuterol, some prescription cough syrup from last year, AND Nyquil....I ask Woody, "If I take both cough syrup and Nyquil, will I stop breathing?" He says, "Uh, I don't think so...." He is the paramedic in the family so it's a good enough answer for me! Better chase this with some bourbon just to make sure....bottoms up.
Then next day, the inevitable happens....I cough so hard, I separate a rib....or break it....one or the other...or at least it feels that way. Holy frijoles, y'all! I want to scream I am so fed up with coughing but it hurts too bad to take a deep enough breath in to scream. I deal with it...cough some more....cry....oh...nope....scratch the crying....you have to breath to do that too. Guess I'll just pee my pants some more. Finally on some day last week (the days just kind of merge together....probably from the Nyquil and bourbon) I feel like I'm on the upswing....and then I get a tummy bug. Again, I would scream but it hurts too bad to do that. I'm going to warn y'all....this next part is graphic. Do you know how much it sucks to be sitting on the toilet, throwing up into a bucket, AND coughing with a separated rib? Oh, and now I have strained some muscle in my abdomen....Where is Conrad Murray? Put. me. down. Oh....but if that isn't enough, the next day is New Year's Eve......but wait! Do you know what happens on New Year's Eve?????? Aunt Flo comes to visit........................no words......no. friggin. words. WHAT ELSE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! My body is going to shut down....I'm pretty sure of it.
So today, New Year's Day, surprisingly I wake up....and feeling pretty damn good at that. Yeah, I'm sore.....my rib, my abs, my uterus, my chest, my throat...P.S. if there is anyway to herniate your throat, I'm pretty sure I did it.......but other than that, I'm feeling like a champ. I guess when you are on your death bed for 2 weeks, a mediocre day makes you feel like you are ready to run a marathon. My mom invited us out to the house for lunch so we went and enjoyed some amazing seafood gumbo and promptly came home for some much needed naps. I woke up and decided that we were going out to eat for dinner. I was sooooooo tired of being stuck in the house in PJ's, no makeup, and my hair in a pony. So I fixed my hair, painted my face and loaded myself up with some jewelry. We went to BJ's, had a great meal, and then I decided that I wanted to run by Nordstrom Rack to look for some new flats. I mean, I have had quite a bit of Christmas cash in my wallet that was now starting to burn a hole through it....I needed to spend it.....now. We drove by and they were closed....boo. I told Woody to drive around the corner to Ulta because I needed hairspray......closed. I then decided that there was something that I absolutely needed from Target....I didn't know what, but would figure out just what it was when I we got there.... I should of known not to step into Target when I saw the parking lot filled with Mexico license plates.
Now, let me just say that I am not racist or prejudice. It is a dreaded time in South Texas when the Mexican Nationals head north and shop.....everyone thinks it, just not many say it. Usually they venture to San Antonio during Holy Week (Easter), before school, and Christmas. I have heard many people say that the way they act here, is how they act in their country. But may I just say.......that doesn't make their behavior and actions okay here. I get so friggin' irritated by their use of walkie-talkies....why can't they just call each other? And why do they have to talk SO LOUD?!?!?!?!?! I have actually had some go through MY BASKET before! As we were walking down the sidewalk to walk into Target, 3 people just step right in front of us and we had to stop so they could continue on with their fabulous selves. "I'm sorry...this is your world right? We are just occupying space in it!" I couldn't bite my tongue. My first venture out of the house and this is one of my first encounters with the human race? I don't think so....Woody should of turned me around, loaded me back up into the car and taken me home then.....he should know me better by now. Then there is the complete disregard for their surroundings.....when we went into Target, there were clothes on the floor....the shoe section looked like a tornado had come through and whatever they didn't want, the threw on the floor and kicked it around. Every section of the store was in complete disarray. And on top of that, they just walk around like they own the place.....they will block the entire aisle so there is no way for you to get around. And if you say "excuse me", they ignore you. If you are walking across the street, they will damn near run you over. I found a pair of turquoise suede "Ugg" style boots on clearance and was going to buy them........but after 15 minutes of dealing with these yahoo's, I couldn't stand to be in the same store as them anymore. I was so mad! I couldn't witness another disrespectful person throwing another thing on the ground or I was going to lose it! After 2 weeks of being in bed, all I want to do it go to Target and make a large unnecessary purchase.....but no. I have to go off-roading in my basket through a mountain of hangers on the floor just to get to the fat section. I literally had to tell Peyton to "hang on" while she was sitting in the back of the basket because I was afraid it was going to tip over! Finally, we just walked out. But then I started thinking.....if Target is this bad, I can only imagine what my darling discount retail stores look like.....I've seen it before....don't even THINK about shopping at TJ Maxx, Marshall's, or Ross for the next month because they wipe those stores out clean. It will take them at least a month to restock......but I guess that is kind of a good thing. All the CRAP that they have had and unable to get rid of, is gone....let the new goods flow in y'all!
There is another positive to this situation. All of the Spanish that was heard by my 4 year old princess has inspired her to speak Spanish...she was making up words that were "spanish" on our way home and she would tell us what they meant. I guess this secret language will be beneficial the next time (if there is a next time) we decide to venture out the next time San Antonio is swarming with nationals....my 4 year old can tell them to get the hell out our way and to stay out of our basket in her secret language. As I said before, I am in no way racist or prejudice. I have many friends and acquaintances that were born and raised in Mexico themselves. All of which also have an issue with the way that these disrespectful people act. I am well aware that we have citizens in this very country that severely lack social skills, respect, and tact. I am not saying that ALL nationals are rude and disrespectful, but it is hard to look past the majority that are.
Until next time,
You're only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep.
I can't lie,the past month has been pretty dang exciting! I celebrated my 30th birthday with a surprise party thrown by my girl, Reagan....then my gypsies gave me ANOTHER surprise party at work! I am one lucky gal! Mid December, I left all good behavior behind, packed up my bags with boots, teasing combs, hairspray, and 100 pounds of jewelry and headed to Vegas with Reagan and Cheyenne for my first NFR experience! We had a blast! Then......it all went downhill once I got back home......
The day after I got back from Vegas, I started to feel a cold coming on....figures. I never go anywhere and the first thing that happens when I travel is I get sick. So at first I think it's nothing major and decide that I can just tough it out. Well, fast forward 24 hours and I have a 102 temperature. I go to the doctor and he says, "The only thing you can have with that high of a fever is pneumonia, or the flu....and your lungs sound fine. 4 out of the 5 people I have seen this week with the flu, had the flu shot (I had mine is September)...sorry....I'll send you out a script for Tamiflu." Fine. I continue to cough so hard, I am constantly peeing my pants...or even better, I throw up. Pretty sexy, huh?!?! I had gone to the doctor on a Friday, felt horrible through the weekend, Monday was Christmas Eve, Tuesday was Christmas Day...being sick during the holidays is no bueno. I missed Christmas at my Nanny's with all the grand kids and great grand kids on my mom's side of the family, missed Christmas Eve church service, and Christmas Eve with the Woodcock's....I was not happy....I had so much crap in my lungs that my daughter is telling me that I was "snoring awake". No honey......that's my lungs....rattling....so Wednesday I roll into the doctor with no voice and bags under my eyes from no sleep.....I tell doctor dude to dope me up so much that I sleep for a week....(I'm really hoping my doc is Conrad Murray at this point...) I need something to stop the coughing or I will lose my friggin' mind. You know what this "doctor" tells me? "Well, the reason you are coughing is because there is crap in your lungs and it needs to come out. If you stop the coughing, then it can't come out and then you'll REALLY have pneumonia. But for now, here is enough steroids to choke and elephant....but let's send you for a chest xray since I can't really hear your lungs over all the wheezing." Oh, lovely.... It took everything in my being (which wasn't much at this point) to not jump on top of this guy and choke him out until he agreed to write me a script for whatever the hell I wanted. Whatev......I come home, take 5 Prednisones, a puff of Advair, a few hits of Albuterol, some prescription cough syrup from last year, AND Nyquil....I ask Woody, "If I take both cough syrup and Nyquil, will I stop breathing?" He says, "Uh, I don't think so...." He is the paramedic in the family so it's a good enough answer for me! Better chase this with some bourbon just to make sure....bottoms up.
Then next day, the inevitable happens....I cough so hard, I separate a rib....or break it....one or the other...or at least it feels that way. Holy frijoles, y'all! I want to scream I am so fed up with coughing but it hurts too bad to take a deep enough breath in to scream. I deal with it...cough some more....cry....oh...nope....scratch the crying....you have to breath to do that too. Guess I'll just pee my pants some more. Finally on some day last week (the days just kind of merge together....probably from the Nyquil and bourbon) I feel like I'm on the upswing....and then I get a tummy bug. Again, I would scream but it hurts too bad to do that. I'm going to warn y'all....this next part is graphic. Do you know how much it sucks to be sitting on the toilet, throwing up into a bucket, AND coughing with a separated rib? Oh, and now I have strained some muscle in my abdomen....Where is Conrad Murray? Put. me. down. Oh....but if that isn't enough, the next day is New Year's Eve......but wait! Do you know what happens on New Year's Eve?????? Aunt Flo comes to visit........................no words......no. friggin. words. WHAT ELSE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! My body is going to shut down....I'm pretty sure of it.
So today, New Year's Day, surprisingly I wake up....and feeling pretty damn good at that. Yeah, I'm sore.....my rib, my abs, my uterus, my chest, my throat...P.S. if there is anyway to herniate your throat, I'm pretty sure I did it.......but other than that, I'm feeling like a champ. I guess when you are on your death bed for 2 weeks, a mediocre day makes you feel like you are ready to run a marathon. My mom invited us out to the house for lunch so we went and enjoyed some amazing seafood gumbo and promptly came home for some much needed naps. I woke up and decided that we were going out to eat for dinner. I was sooooooo tired of being stuck in the house in PJ's, no makeup, and my hair in a pony. So I fixed my hair, painted my face and loaded myself up with some jewelry. We went to BJ's, had a great meal, and then I decided that I wanted to run by Nordstrom Rack to look for some new flats. I mean, I have had quite a bit of Christmas cash in my wallet that was now starting to burn a hole through it....I needed to spend it.....now. We drove by and they were closed....boo. I told Woody to drive around the corner to Ulta because I needed hairspray......closed. I then decided that there was something that I absolutely needed from Target....I didn't know what, but would figure out just what it was when I we got there.... I should of known not to step into Target when I saw the parking lot filled with Mexico license plates.
Now, let me just say that I am not racist or prejudice. It is a dreaded time in South Texas when the Mexican Nationals head north and shop.....everyone thinks it, just not many say it. Usually they venture to San Antonio during Holy Week (Easter), before school, and Christmas. I have heard many people say that the way they act here, is how they act in their country. But may I just say.......that doesn't make their behavior and actions okay here. I get so friggin' irritated by their use of walkie-talkies....why can't they just call each other? And why do they have to talk SO LOUD?!?!?!?!?! I have actually had some go through MY BASKET before! As we were walking down the sidewalk to walk into Target, 3 people just step right in front of us and we had to stop so they could continue on with their fabulous selves. "I'm sorry...this is your world right? We are just occupying space in it!" I couldn't bite my tongue. My first venture out of the house and this is one of my first encounters with the human race? I don't think so....Woody should of turned me around, loaded me back up into the car and taken me home then.....he should know me better by now. Then there is the complete disregard for their surroundings.....when we went into Target, there were clothes on the floor....the shoe section looked like a tornado had come through and whatever they didn't want, the threw on the floor and kicked it around. Every section of the store was in complete disarray. And on top of that, they just walk around like they own the place.....they will block the entire aisle so there is no way for you to get around. And if you say "excuse me", they ignore you. If you are walking across the street, they will damn near run you over. I found a pair of turquoise suede "Ugg" style boots on clearance and was going to buy them........but after 15 minutes of dealing with these yahoo's, I couldn't stand to be in the same store as them anymore. I was so mad! I couldn't witness another disrespectful person throwing another thing on the ground or I was going to lose it! After 2 weeks of being in bed, all I want to do it go to Target and make a large unnecessary purchase.....but no. I have to go off-roading in my basket through a mountain of hangers on the floor just to get to the fat section. I literally had to tell Peyton to "hang on" while she was sitting in the back of the basket because I was afraid it was going to tip over! Finally, we just walked out. But then I started thinking.....if Target is this bad, I can only imagine what my darling discount retail stores look like.....I've seen it before....don't even THINK about shopping at TJ Maxx, Marshall's, or Ross for the next month because they wipe those stores out clean. It will take them at least a month to restock......but I guess that is kind of a good thing. All the CRAP that they have had and unable to get rid of, is gone....let the new goods flow in y'all!
There is another positive to this situation. All of the Spanish that was heard by my 4 year old princess has inspired her to speak Spanish...she was making up words that were "spanish" on our way home and she would tell us what they meant. I guess this secret language will be beneficial the next time (if there is a next time) we decide to venture out the next time San Antonio is swarming with nationals....my 4 year old can tell them to get the hell out our way and to stay out of our basket in her secret language. As I said before, I am in no way racist or prejudice. I have many friends and acquaintances that were born and raised in Mexico themselves. All of which also have an issue with the way that these disrespectful people act. I am well aware that we have citizens in this very country that severely lack social skills, respect, and tact. I am not saying that ALL nationals are rude and disrespectful, but it is hard to look past the majority that are.
Until next time,
You're only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Can't Win for Losing, Dude
As some of you may know, I work part time at a little boutique in my home town. A good friend of mine and her family own it and I couldn't be more blessed to work for them. We are very fortunate that the majority of our customers are fabulous, sweet, and kind. Today I had a young, well dressed gentleman come into the store looking for a dress for his wife. He was like most men....clueless.
He said that he was taking his wife out tomorrow night and she had mentioned to him that she wanted to wear a new dress. So when he got off of work, he decided to stop by the store to try and find something for her. I asked him what size she wore and he told me that she wears a medium...(*cough* skinny bitch *cough*) I showed him some of our most popular dresses and told him what she could wear them with when it came to shoes and accessories. He was very confused. After about 30 minutes of walking around the store and pulling dresses, he decided on a darling dress...perfect for what they were going to do the next evening. He asked me if I could help him pick out "something that goes with it". So this was seeming like it was going to work out great. Once we were finished he was grinning...probably just imagining that fancy dress hitting the floor when he brings his tipsy wife home from their night out. I mean, the least she can do after all this is give the guy a little......credit. I assured him that if it didn't fit right, or if it wasn't to her liking that she could exchange it for something else. I also told him how sweet he is to do this for her...you know what he told me? "She deserves more than I could ever give her." Awwww...they must be newly weds.
No more than 30 minutes after he left the store, the phone rings. It's him. He tells me that it was a little too small for her and that SHE wanted HIM to bring it up to the store and exchange it for something else. What? Okay.....let stop here for a moment. If my husband took the time to come into a WOMEN'S BOUTIQUE BY HIMSELF, that alone would of earned him a..........reward. She sends him back to the store to look for something else? And not only that....she sends him back with their 3 year old snot nosed son. Now, being the proper southern lady that I am, I would of thanked my sweet husband for thinking of me and tell him that the dress wasn't really my taste, or if it didn't fit that I would go and exchange it in the morning. (My husband and I have an agreement, if we spent good money on something for each other and we don't like it, we will be honest with each other and get something that we like.) When he arrived with the sneezy runny nosed child to shop AGAIN, I realized that this man has to be a saint. So he sees another dress and text her a picture of it. She calls him and I can hear her over the phone.... "Uh, yeah...no. What are you thinking? That is horrible!" She then tells him that she is going to wear a dress she already has, and.......wait for it......tells him to pick out jewelry to wear with it. Are you kidding me? The dude bought you a dress, drove back to the store to return it within 45 minutes of purchasing it, and now you are telling him to pick out jewelry? Oh, and by the way lady....your kid is tearing up the store. Just remember, you break it you buy it! Oy Vey!
So he gets off the phone and tells me that the dress she is going to wear is turquoise and black. I ask him a series of questions about what it looks like and with little or no answer to these questions I finally ask, "Can she maybe text you a picture of it?" You know what he says? "Well, she's getting her nails done right now so..." Okay. Where is this bitch of a wife you have, and when can I slap her? So with what little info he gives me, I show him a necklace and earrings. His face lights up, and I think to myself, "Don't get too happy buddy....look where that landed you last time!" Last thing I wanted is for this sweet, poor man to be sitting in our parking lot when I get to work tomorrow morning with his head hung low and greeting me with, "Back again". He takes a picture of the jewelry and text it to her. And guess what...........you're never gonna believe this.........she doesn't like it. All together now, "Noooooo". Now I'm thinking this hen is about as crazy as a cat trying to cover it's crap on a marble floor.
In the end, he ended up just returning the dress and earrings. He walked out the door with his sneezing-snot head-hell on wheels of a son and looking defeated. So ladies, let's get something straight. If your husband does anything remotely close to what this jewel of a man did and you act like his old lady, I will come to your house put a stock pot that you've probably never cooked with over your head and bang it with a hammer until you ears fall off and you won't have to worry about what earrings you're gonna wear.....yeah....yeah....and then I'm going to give you the number to my pediatrician so you can get your kid some Adderall and a Z-Pack.
Until next time...
You're only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep.
He said that he was taking his wife out tomorrow night and she had mentioned to him that she wanted to wear a new dress. So when he got off of work, he decided to stop by the store to try and find something for her. I asked him what size she wore and he told me that she wears a medium...(*cough* skinny bitch *cough*) I showed him some of our most popular dresses and told him what she could wear them with when it came to shoes and accessories. He was very confused. After about 30 minutes of walking around the store and pulling dresses, he decided on a darling dress...perfect for what they were going to do the next evening. He asked me if I could help him pick out "something that goes with it". So this was seeming like it was going to work out great. Once we were finished he was grinning...probably just imagining that fancy dress hitting the floor when he brings his tipsy wife home from their night out. I mean, the least she can do after all this is give the guy a little......credit. I assured him that if it didn't fit right, or if it wasn't to her liking that she could exchange it for something else. I also told him how sweet he is to do this for her...you know what he told me? "She deserves more than I could ever give her." Awwww...they must be newly weds.
No more than 30 minutes after he left the store, the phone rings. It's him. He tells me that it was a little too small for her and that SHE wanted HIM to bring it up to the store and exchange it for something else. What? Okay.....let stop here for a moment. If my husband took the time to come into a WOMEN'S BOUTIQUE BY HIMSELF, that alone would of earned him a..........reward. She sends him back to the store to look for something else? And not only that....she sends him back with their 3 year old snot nosed son. Now, being the proper southern lady that I am, I would of thanked my sweet husband for thinking of me and tell him that the dress wasn't really my taste, or if it didn't fit that I would go and exchange it in the morning. (My husband and I have an agreement, if we spent good money on something for each other and we don't like it, we will be honest with each other and get something that we like.) When he arrived with the sneezy runny nosed child to shop AGAIN, I realized that this man has to be a saint. So he sees another dress and text her a picture of it. She calls him and I can hear her over the phone.... "Uh, yeah...no. What are you thinking? That is horrible!" She then tells him that she is going to wear a dress she already has, and.......wait for it......tells him to pick out jewelry to wear with it. Are you kidding me? The dude bought you a dress, drove back to the store to return it within 45 minutes of purchasing it, and now you are telling him to pick out jewelry? Oh, and by the way lady....your kid is tearing up the store. Just remember, you break it you buy it! Oy Vey!
So he gets off the phone and tells me that the dress she is going to wear is turquoise and black. I ask him a series of questions about what it looks like and with little or no answer to these questions I finally ask, "Can she maybe text you a picture of it?" You know what he says? "Well, she's getting her nails done right now so..." Okay. Where is this bitch of a wife you have, and when can I slap her? So with what little info he gives me, I show him a necklace and earrings. His face lights up, and I think to myself, "Don't get too happy buddy....look where that landed you last time!" Last thing I wanted is for this sweet, poor man to be sitting in our parking lot when I get to work tomorrow morning with his head hung low and greeting me with, "Back again". He takes a picture of the jewelry and text it to her. And guess what...........you're never gonna believe this.........she doesn't like it. All together now, "Noooooo". Now I'm thinking this hen is about as crazy as a cat trying to cover it's crap on a marble floor.
In the end, he ended up just returning the dress and earrings. He walked out the door with his sneezing-snot head-hell on wheels of a son and looking defeated. So ladies, let's get something straight. If your husband does anything remotely close to what this jewel of a man did and you act like his old lady, I will come to your house put a stock pot that you've probably never cooked with over your head and bang it with a hammer until you ears fall off and you won't have to worry about what earrings you're gonna wear.....yeah....yeah....and then I'm going to give you the number to my pediatrician so you can get your kid some Adderall and a Z-Pack.
Until next time...
You're only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Shark Week: A overrated definition of "Duh"
I've never wanted to go swimming out in the ocean. Part of the reason may be that the only part of the ocean I've been to is the Gulf of Mexico and we all know how crystal clear and pristine the waters of Port Aransas are....NOT! I never have seen Jaws but I'm pretty sure my fear of the surf comes from my worry wart mother. My mom is terrified, my sister is terrified, and I am terrified of the ocean. We all have to consume almost a case of beer alone just to get the courage to go in ankle deep water to sit down and pee. When my husband and I were dating, we went down to the Texas coast with his family and the water was super clear. Woody has no fear of the ocean so feeling adventurous, in love, and a little buzzed, I decided to go alllllll the way out to the last sandbar with my hunky beau. We could see our feet even as we were shoulder deep (well, Woody was ear deep) in the water which was good, but also bad. I could see fish that were about 10-12 inches long swimming around. So. If there are fish that big swimming around, obviously there is something much bigger that can eat that fish. I looked at Woody and told him, "Sorry dude. Your on your own." and started swimming back to shore. (In our wedding that happened a year and a half after this even, I made sure my vows did not include, "in safe, or shark infested waters" just for this particular reason) And as I am swimming and praying to sweet Jesus that I make it back to shore with my limbs, I hear Woody shout, "Kicking just attracts the sharks!" Do you know how hard it is to swim for your life, pray, cry, AND curse you boyfriend at the same time?
So Discovery Channel has week long special that many have heard of, and it's called "Shark Week". This is also known as, "No Shit Sherlock". These brave (*cough* stupid) souls have the desire to go out and "study" sharks. Now listen. I don't know about you, but I think the only thing that I want to know is how to keep them the hell away from me. In my opinion, if the government can build a wall along the Texas/Mexico border, I'm pretty sure we can construct some type of "swim fence" to keep beach goers safe. Just sayin'. But I'm not so interested in the shows that see what it's like from the inside of a sharks mouth by swimming with sharks using a "bite cam". Or what about the guy that goes swimming with great white sharks and can "hypnotize" them by touching their nose. Why do you need to do something like that? How does that help me? Now, the show on how they make shark repellent out of dead rotting sharks is what grabs my attention. So enough with the unnecessary crap! All these "scientists" just need to stop with the BS research on why Great White Sharks fly out of water while attacking a seal. You know why? Cause those little boogers are quick and agile, that's why. They've got to be quick! End of story. Now, how 'bout y'all put some time and effort toward manufacturing a personal shark repellent device. Here's what I'm thinking....ready? Ok. We start with an ankle monitor looking jobby. Then we make cartridges out rotten shark....I'm imagining something like those little gel packs that you use in your Glade Plug-ins. The only problem with this is we'll have to make the ankle bracelets cute or with customizable straps or something...you know, to make these look different from "government issued" anklets. I would hate for some sweet little college girl to think she's safe with some dude wearing a shark repelling anklet and he's really on probation. Yeah, no bueno. I mean, if I could make this happen I would be a gazillionaire! So we all need to write letters to these "researchers" and ask them to A) start on the design and construction of a "Swim Fence" that can go along America's coastline, and B) Hop on the "shark repelling" bandwagon. Until then, I will continue to go to the beach. As long as I have a dead, rotting shark tied around some part of my body.
Until next time,
You're only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep.
So Discovery Channel has week long special that many have heard of, and it's called "Shark Week". This is also known as, "No Shit Sherlock". These brave (*cough* stupid) souls have the desire to go out and "study" sharks. Now listen. I don't know about you, but I think the only thing that I want to know is how to keep them the hell away from me. In my opinion, if the government can build a wall along the Texas/Mexico border, I'm pretty sure we can construct some type of "swim fence" to keep beach goers safe. Just sayin'. But I'm not so interested in the shows that see what it's like from the inside of a sharks mouth by swimming with sharks using a "bite cam". Or what about the guy that goes swimming with great white sharks and can "hypnotize" them by touching their nose. Why do you need to do something like that? How does that help me? Now, the show on how they make shark repellent out of dead rotting sharks is what grabs my attention. So enough with the unnecessary crap! All these "scientists" just need to stop with the BS research on why Great White Sharks fly out of water while attacking a seal. You know why? Cause those little boogers are quick and agile, that's why. They've got to be quick! End of story. Now, how 'bout y'all put some time and effort toward manufacturing a personal shark repellent device. Here's what I'm thinking....ready? Ok. We start with an ankle monitor looking jobby. Then we make cartridges out rotten shark....I'm imagining something like those little gel packs that you use in your Glade Plug-ins. The only problem with this is we'll have to make the ankle bracelets cute or with customizable straps or something...you know, to make these look different from "government issued" anklets. I would hate for some sweet little college girl to think she's safe with some dude wearing a shark repelling anklet and he's really on probation. Yeah, no bueno. I mean, if I could make this happen I would be a gazillionaire! So we all need to write letters to these "researchers" and ask them to A) start on the design and construction of a "Swim Fence" that can go along America's coastline, and B) Hop on the "shark repelling" bandwagon. Until then, I will continue to go to the beach. As long as I have a dead, rotting shark tied around some part of my body.
Until next time,
You're only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
50 Shades: Violation on a WHOLE other level...
Just a warning....this may be a tad inappropriate....just a tad....maybe.
I was never much into reading as a kid. Not until I got married, quit my job, and had a kid did I truly appreciate that there was a way to sit down and be taken into a whole other world. Calgon, take me away! I had a period of time that I read ALL of Tess Gerritsen's books. I couldn't put them down! Then I got busy or something....not quite sure why I didn't read for a while. But then while at a birthday party, I heard about this book. A booked that was being called, "Mommy Porn" by it's readers and the media. Huh? No way....seriously people, you need to broaden you horizons when it comes to the bedroom apparently because I'm pretty sure that nothing sold at Barnes & Noble could be so intense. Now, for those of you who have read a few of my blogs, you know that I will admit when I am wrong. Here I go again....I was wrong.
This all started when I went to a friend's surprise party... as the men were playing a game of washers in the yard, the hens were perched on the deck talking about recent events...being pregnant, getting pooped on, planning birthday's...you know, the normal crap mommies talk about. Then we got on the subject of books and I have heard a few things about this book, "50 Shades of Grey" but didn't research it or anything. Just heard it was sexual...whatever. Well, one of the ladies let us know that this book has added fuel to her fire. She said that she read about things that she didn't have a clue existed...and then a couple of the other hens opened up and said that they had heard about it...that it had reignited their sexual relationships with their husbands, or gave some women the courage to "try new things". So this peaked my interest. Could there be a book out there that really got a woman's blood REALLY pumping? I doubt it...IT'S A BOOK! And I was pretty sure there were no illustrations involved so could this author paint a good enough picture to get someone's lady parts beeping? Doubtful....especially since I had heard that this was poorly written . So I figured I had nothing to lose...my husband was going out of town for 3 days so I was pretty sure that IF this book did what most said it did, I would be safe in the comfort of a cold shower and not at the mercy of a neglected husband...so I went with a girlfriend to Barnes & Noble after I dropped my daughter off at school...if you thought that I was going to walk into a bookstore asking where the "Mommy Porn" was by myself, you are sadly mistaken... we looked, and looked, and looked for that friggin' book. Is it in Women's Studies? No.... What about Instructional? No.... School Summer Reading? God, I hope not.... We finally find where it is supposed to be but it appears that they are out of them. So I go up to the front to pay for my Dr. Seuss book...okay, now this is just wrong..Dr. Seuss and Mommy Porn...I ask the cashier if they are out of that book and she says, "Oh no...we keep them behind the counter..." WHAT?!?!?! Oh Lord....maybe I should just tell her to forget about it but I did bring my friend here for support. Too late to turn back now...
So that evening I start reading this book....no sex yet. It was little slow to start but I'm glad, because if that author would of just gotten to the meat and potatoes right away, I would of burned the damn thing. She knew what she was doing when she wrote this book. She got me intrigued by the main characters and the mystery the Mr. Grey. Then it started getting hot, and then is simmered, then it started boiling....OH SHIT! IT'S BOILING OVER! What in the......okay, enough for one night...I'm going to bed....okay, one more chapter....After approximately 36 hours of having this book in my possession, I finished it. And let me tell you....if Anastasia wasn't sore from what she personally endured, I was sore for her....just reading this made me tired. Once I closed the book, I have to tell you something. I have NEVER felt so violated in my ENTIRE life. It was like, if I knew of this Mr. Grey and ran into him at Panera, I'm pretty sure I would run out the door screaming let alone look this delicious freak in the eyes! As soon as my hubs got home from his fishing trip, I told him that I read this book and a little bit about it. He was shocked. All the sudden I felt like I was a teenager and caught in something that I shouldn't of done and said, "The only reason I did it was because everyone else was doing it!" That's right...I succumbed to peer pressure....I read a book.
Not only did I admit to my husband that I read this crazy "book", I told my friends....I warned them...I explained that I really want to read the next book in the series but I'm afraid that the next one will have the same outrageous amount of sexual content, and I can't handle it. I feel dirty already and I'm pretty sure I will have to sit on ice for a week before even attempting to read the second one. I wonder how many crazy women Barnes & Noble have coming in at opening with two cigarettes hanging out of their mouth, and a fresh scotch on the rocks. So, in conclusion I believe that I will write the author and tell her that she should include a supply list with the purchase of this book and it should include, but not limited to:
Ambien (because obviously when it's time for bed, you can't put the damn book down!)
Cigarettes
Ice
Batteries
Scotch (or any hard liquor of your choice)
A well rested Male (preferably Mr. Grey)
You've been warned...
Laters, Babe
I was never much into reading as a kid. Not until I got married, quit my job, and had a kid did I truly appreciate that there was a way to sit down and be taken into a whole other world. Calgon, take me away! I had a period of time that I read ALL of Tess Gerritsen's books. I couldn't put them down! Then I got busy or something....not quite sure why I didn't read for a while. But then while at a birthday party, I heard about this book. A booked that was being called, "Mommy Porn" by it's readers and the media. Huh? No way....seriously people, you need to broaden you horizons when it comes to the bedroom apparently because I'm pretty sure that nothing sold at Barnes & Noble could be so intense. Now, for those of you who have read a few of my blogs, you know that I will admit when I am wrong. Here I go again....I was wrong.
This all started when I went to a friend's surprise party... as the men were playing a game of washers in the yard, the hens were perched on the deck talking about recent events...being pregnant, getting pooped on, planning birthday's...you know, the normal crap mommies talk about. Then we got on the subject of books and I have heard a few things about this book, "50 Shades of Grey" but didn't research it or anything. Just heard it was sexual...whatever. Well, one of the ladies let us know that this book has added fuel to her fire. She said that she read about things that she didn't have a clue existed...and then a couple of the other hens opened up and said that they had heard about it...that it had reignited their sexual relationships with their husbands, or gave some women the courage to "try new things". So this peaked my interest. Could there be a book out there that really got a woman's blood REALLY pumping? I doubt it...IT'S A BOOK! And I was pretty sure there were no illustrations involved so could this author paint a good enough picture to get someone's lady parts beeping? Doubtful....especially since I had heard that this was poorly written . So I figured I had nothing to lose...my husband was going out of town for 3 days so I was pretty sure that IF this book did what most said it did, I would be safe in the comfort of a cold shower and not at the mercy of a neglected husband...so I went with a girlfriend to Barnes & Noble after I dropped my daughter off at school...if you thought that I was going to walk into a bookstore asking where the "Mommy Porn" was by myself, you are sadly mistaken... we looked, and looked, and looked for that friggin' book. Is it in Women's Studies? No.... What about Instructional? No.... School Summer Reading? God, I hope not.... We finally find where it is supposed to be but it appears that they are out of them. So I go up to the front to pay for my Dr. Seuss book...okay, now this is just wrong..Dr. Seuss and Mommy Porn...I ask the cashier if they are out of that book and she says, "Oh no...we keep them behind the counter..." WHAT?!?!?! Oh Lord....maybe I should just tell her to forget about it but I did bring my friend here for support. Too late to turn back now...
So that evening I start reading this book....no sex yet. It was little slow to start but I'm glad, because if that author would of just gotten to the meat and potatoes right away, I would of burned the damn thing. She knew what she was doing when she wrote this book. She got me intrigued by the main characters and the mystery the Mr. Grey. Then it started getting hot, and then is simmered, then it started boiling....OH SHIT! IT'S BOILING OVER! What in the......okay, enough for one night...I'm going to bed....okay, one more chapter....After approximately 36 hours of having this book in my possession, I finished it. And let me tell you....if Anastasia wasn't sore from what she personally endured, I was sore for her....just reading this made me tired. Once I closed the book, I have to tell you something. I have NEVER felt so violated in my ENTIRE life. It was like, if I knew of this Mr. Grey and ran into him at Panera, I'm pretty sure I would run out the door screaming let alone look this delicious freak in the eyes! As soon as my hubs got home from his fishing trip, I told him that I read this book and a little bit about it. He was shocked. All the sudden I felt like I was a teenager and caught in something that I shouldn't of done and said, "The only reason I did it was because everyone else was doing it!" That's right...I succumbed to peer pressure....I read a book.
Not only did I admit to my husband that I read this crazy "book", I told my friends....I warned them...I explained that I really want to read the next book in the series but I'm afraid that the next one will have the same outrageous amount of sexual content, and I can't handle it. I feel dirty already and I'm pretty sure I will have to sit on ice for a week before even attempting to read the second one. I wonder how many crazy women Barnes & Noble have coming in at opening with two cigarettes hanging out of their mouth, and a fresh scotch on the rocks. So, in conclusion I believe that I will write the author and tell her that she should include a supply list with the purchase of this book and it should include, but not limited to:
Ambien (because obviously when it's time for bed, you can't put the damn book down!)
Cigarettes
Ice
Batteries
Scotch (or any hard liquor of your choice)
A well rested Male (preferably Mr. Grey)
You've been warned...
Laters, Babe
Saturday, May 12, 2012
From Torture to Triumph
If you think this is ONLY about a personal trial that I endured, you're sadly mistaken. I am going to share with you, a bit of my life that not many know about and how happy that I made it through, and more importantly, my sister.
Laurel and I laugh about the things I would do to her as a kid, but I'm actually pretty happy that she didn't grow up to be an addict of some sort because of her traumatic childhood. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad but I feel pretty bad for the things that I would do to her. I would pin her down, lean over her face and let a slow and steady stream of saliva drip out of my mouth and right before it hit her face, I would slurp it back in my mouth. That was the plan at least. But once in a while, the stream o' saliva would be out of my control and actually land on her face. Geez, just seeing this in words makes me realize how utterly disgusting that was... Then there was the tickling....my sister is the MOST ticklish person I have ever known. If you hold your hand anywhere near her and move you fingers as if you are tickling her, she would start laughing or better yet, let out a squeal. I would tickle her until she couldn't breathe. Now before you think I was trying to kill her, please understand that this child would cry so hard when getting her diaper changed, she would pass out. Or when she got hurt, she would first let out what we call, "The Siren". Imagine a siren on an emergency vehicle and how the sound starts out lower in sound and then intensifies. Except, when Laurel's "siren" intensified, she would turn blue and my mom would be yelling at her, "LAUREL! BREATHE! BREATHE LAUREL!" Any time we would rough-house and she would get hurt, I would say, "Don't tell Mom! Don't tell Mom! Shhhhhh! Don't cry! Don't cry!" and I would just pray that the siren wouldn't go off! So obviously physical torturing like spitting on my sister, tickling her in misery, or beating her up, only forced her to engage what I would like to call, "Cerebral torture". I hate Oomp-Loompa's with a passion. The small stature, the orange skin, the deep voices....it's kind of like an elephant being afraid of a mouse. You would think that this big "Corn-fed Barbie" couldn't possibly be scared of a fictional candy making little person, but I am. So out of nowhere, I would be in my room and I would hear the candy making chant of, "Oomp Loompa doo-pa-dy do...." Oh, and let's not forget about Furbies. Do any of you remember those little freaks? They were like little Gremlins with fur and buggy eyes. I HATED those things...I would walk into Laurel's room (when no one was in there) and I would hear in a high pitched voice, "Mama". Ugh! That send chills down my spine just hearing that voice in my head. Well, she would go and hide those little spawns of the devil in my room and just wait for me to scream and beg for her to come and get those damn things out of my room....again, the elephant afraid of a mouse.
So besides the obvious torture, there was the torture that we both endured...the unintentional torture. For several years, in middle school and high school, I suffered from severe depression and anxiety. That may be surprising to some of the people that I met later in my life, but part of the reason that I am who I am today is because of what I went through. Understand that because of this condition and the high doses of medication I was on to help with my anxiety, I was in a whole other world. Those years of my life are a complete blur. A lot I remember but it's like recalling a memory of someone else...out of body almost. I would fight with my mom every morning before school, normally resulting in me having an anxiety attack and my mother in tears. Laurel was forced to tag along for several doctors appointments since my Dad worked out of town so Mom was doing it by herself. She saw things a kid shouldn't see....the breakdowns, the anxiety attacks, the verbal fights and yelling....it brings tears to my eyes when I think of things Laurel witnessed. She didn't deserve that. My parents didn't deserve that. There were times that I would ask my mom why I had to deal with this. But what I now think about is, why did my young sister have to go through that. She didn't have a "big sister". She had a sick sister. Understand that there are 6 years between us in age, so when we were younger, we really didn't have a lot in common anyway. But I didn't know about what was going on in her school, I wasn't there when/if she was upset about anything. Those years of my life are a complete blur. Yes, I missed the years that should of been the most memorable like going with my friends to high school football games and dances. But what pains me the most is missing those years of my sister.
Since I've been better, I have tried to be there for Laurel and include her in my happy moments when I could/can. I watched her show her goats in high school, went along to shop for her prom dress, cried as I watched her walk across the stage for her high school graduation, had the honor of her being the maid of honor in our wedding, had her there when my daughter was born and be her Godmother, and just calling to meet up for lunch, have drinks, or take a trip to the coast. But now, I got to see her walk the stage as she graduated from college. Something that I never had the desire to do. I just wanted to get married and be a Mom...that's my passion. Her's is to be an educated and successful woman. I am so incredibly proud of her! She has worked pretty much full time and gone to school full time. She is going to be doing something that she loves and has a passion for and more than anything, THAT is what makes me most happy. She has accomplished so much. The fact that I look up to HER makes me both sad and happy. My sadness comes from the years of the unintentional torture she endured during my tough years. She didn't have a sibling to look up to....I don't blame her if she hated me during those horrible years. I want her to know that wasn't me....I didn't want to go through all that....I didn't want her to go through all that, but she did. There are no words to say how thrilled I am to see her grow up into such a successful, intelligent, loving, strong, and dedicated woman. I believe that some of my family worried about what my future would hold, and if I would ever pull out of what I was going through. I know my grandmother always makes it a point to tell me how lucky I am to land such a wonderful husband and that she never thought that I would get married because of "everything" I went through....yeah, thanks Nanny... But did they worry if Laurel would make it through too? I did. I pray that one day Peyton will be just like her. In my eyes, she's perfect... she's smart, she's determined, she's focused, she strong in her faith, strong in her beliefs...she's loving, she's smart, she's beautiful.... I love her and I am thrilled beyond words of what she has become!
So on a lighter note, I would also like to say, "You're Welcome!" Because without my tickling, saliva, and rough-housing, you Miss Laurel Marie, wouldn't be the bad-ass you are today! I love you seester!
Laurel and I laugh about the things I would do to her as a kid, but I'm actually pretty happy that she didn't grow up to be an addict of some sort because of her traumatic childhood. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad but I feel pretty bad for the things that I would do to her. I would pin her down, lean over her face and let a slow and steady stream of saliva drip out of my mouth and right before it hit her face, I would slurp it back in my mouth. That was the plan at least. But once in a while, the stream o' saliva would be out of my control and actually land on her face. Geez, just seeing this in words makes me realize how utterly disgusting that was... Then there was the tickling....my sister is the MOST ticklish person I have ever known. If you hold your hand anywhere near her and move you fingers as if you are tickling her, she would start laughing or better yet, let out a squeal. I would tickle her until she couldn't breathe. Now before you think I was trying to kill her, please understand that this child would cry so hard when getting her diaper changed, she would pass out. Or when she got hurt, she would first let out what we call, "The Siren". Imagine a siren on an emergency vehicle and how the sound starts out lower in sound and then intensifies. Except, when Laurel's "siren" intensified, she would turn blue and my mom would be yelling at her, "LAUREL! BREATHE! BREATHE LAUREL!" Any time we would rough-house and she would get hurt, I would say, "Don't tell Mom! Don't tell Mom! Shhhhhh! Don't cry! Don't cry!" and I would just pray that the siren wouldn't go off! So obviously physical torturing like spitting on my sister, tickling her in misery, or beating her up, only forced her to engage what I would like to call, "Cerebral torture". I hate Oomp-Loompa's with a passion. The small stature, the orange skin, the deep voices....it's kind of like an elephant being afraid of a mouse. You would think that this big "Corn-fed Barbie" couldn't possibly be scared of a fictional candy making little person, but I am. So out of nowhere, I would be in my room and I would hear the candy making chant of, "Oomp Loompa doo-pa-dy do...." Oh, and let's not forget about Furbies. Do any of you remember those little freaks? They were like little Gremlins with fur and buggy eyes. I HATED those things...I would walk into Laurel's room (when no one was in there) and I would hear in a high pitched voice, "Mama". Ugh! That send chills down my spine just hearing that voice in my head. Well, she would go and hide those little spawns of the devil in my room and just wait for me to scream and beg for her to come and get those damn things out of my room....again, the elephant afraid of a mouse.
So besides the obvious torture, there was the torture that we both endured...the unintentional torture. For several years, in middle school and high school, I suffered from severe depression and anxiety. That may be surprising to some of the people that I met later in my life, but part of the reason that I am who I am today is because of what I went through. Understand that because of this condition and the high doses of medication I was on to help with my anxiety, I was in a whole other world. Those years of my life are a complete blur. A lot I remember but it's like recalling a memory of someone else...out of body almost. I would fight with my mom every morning before school, normally resulting in me having an anxiety attack and my mother in tears. Laurel was forced to tag along for several doctors appointments since my Dad worked out of town so Mom was doing it by herself. She saw things a kid shouldn't see....the breakdowns, the anxiety attacks, the verbal fights and yelling....it brings tears to my eyes when I think of things Laurel witnessed. She didn't deserve that. My parents didn't deserve that. There were times that I would ask my mom why I had to deal with this. But what I now think about is, why did my young sister have to go through that. She didn't have a "big sister". She had a sick sister. Understand that there are 6 years between us in age, so when we were younger, we really didn't have a lot in common anyway. But I didn't know about what was going on in her school, I wasn't there when/if she was upset about anything. Those years of my life are a complete blur. Yes, I missed the years that should of been the most memorable like going with my friends to high school football games and dances. But what pains me the most is missing those years of my sister.
Since I've been better, I have tried to be there for Laurel and include her in my happy moments when I could/can. I watched her show her goats in high school, went along to shop for her prom dress, cried as I watched her walk across the stage for her high school graduation, had the honor of her being the maid of honor in our wedding, had her there when my daughter was born and be her Godmother, and just calling to meet up for lunch, have drinks, or take a trip to the coast. But now, I got to see her walk the stage as she graduated from college. Something that I never had the desire to do. I just wanted to get married and be a Mom...that's my passion. Her's is to be an educated and successful woman. I am so incredibly proud of her! She has worked pretty much full time and gone to school full time. She is going to be doing something that she loves and has a passion for and more than anything, THAT is what makes me most happy. She has accomplished so much. The fact that I look up to HER makes me both sad and happy. My sadness comes from the years of the unintentional torture she endured during my tough years. She didn't have a sibling to look up to....I don't blame her if she hated me during those horrible years. I want her to know that wasn't me....I didn't want to go through all that....I didn't want her to go through all that, but she did. There are no words to say how thrilled I am to see her grow up into such a successful, intelligent, loving, strong, and dedicated woman. I believe that some of my family worried about what my future would hold, and if I would ever pull out of what I was going through. I know my grandmother always makes it a point to tell me how lucky I am to land such a wonderful husband and that she never thought that I would get married because of "everything" I went through....yeah, thanks Nanny... But did they worry if Laurel would make it through too? I did. I pray that one day Peyton will be just like her. In my eyes, she's perfect... she's smart, she's determined, she's focused, she strong in her faith, strong in her beliefs...she's loving, she's smart, she's beautiful.... I love her and I am thrilled beyond words of what she has become!
So on a lighter note, I would also like to say, "You're Welcome!" Because without my tickling, saliva, and rough-housing, you Miss Laurel Marie, wouldn't be the bad-ass you are today! I love you seester!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Tower 'o Crowns
Anyone who has seen the TV show “Toddlers & Tiaras”
knows what level of dysfunction it takes to participate in a pageant of that
sort. They wear wigs so it doesn’t look
like their hair, “flippers” so it doesn’t look like their teeth, makeup so it
doesn’t look like their face…so in all reality, they are judged on what they
AREN’T. I was never the pageant type. My
aunt tried talking my mom into putting me in the Little Miss Helotes pageant
when I was a little girl and I just wasn’t into it. But even if I did
participate, it didn’t involve the antics…
I never had an interest in clothes, shoes, makeup, or hair…I was a
tomboy. All I wanted to do was play
sports, raise animals in 4-H, and get dirty.
But, I am well aware of the work that it takes to be in a pageant such
as Miss Helotes. The girls are
themselves, they are interviewed…it’s not just who is the prettiest. And if you
are on the court, you make appearances, you participate in parades, you are
involved in the community. (There is one girl that I have known since she was
little and she was on the Miss Helotes Court. Every time I have seen her, she
has a smile that lights up the room, is so sweet & respectful…the only way
Peyton would be allowed to run for Miss Helotes, is if she acted as graceful
and sweet as Dani.) So, it takes a lot
of time out of your personal life. It is definitely a commitment! I’m sure that
there are politics involved but politics are involved in EVERYTHING…sports,
FFA, 4-H, pageants…don’t deny it!
One of my daughter’s teachers at school had asked me if I
was going to put Peyton in the “Little Miss Cornsilk Pageant” during Cornyval.
For those of you who don’t know what Cornyval is, it is Helotes’ annual
festival that includes a carnival, rodeo, parade, and booths that local
organizations have in attempts to raise money.
I told Ms. S that I didn’t know about it but I am totally NOT a pageant
mom. As days went on, I kept thinking
about it. My kid is cute, she has a
great personality, and she knows what makes you pretty….a sweet heart. A couple of weeks went by and I ran into Ms.
Judy…she runs the Miss Helotes Pageant. I asked her what was up with this Cornsilk
pageant and she gave me a flyer and told
me that I should put Peyton in it because every little girl get a sash, crown,
and a trophy. I thought that Peyton would like that….especially if she got a
trophy! The first thing she asked me when I signed her up for a second season
of soccer was, “When do I get my gold medal?!?”
So, a trophy was right down her alley.
The flyer also stated that they were to wear a cute summer outfit…
Something that you could pull out of your closet. But how that translated in my mind was, “I
need to go shopping!” This isn’t sounding too bad after all! I went and bought her a sweet little white
sundress at Old Navy and some new darling little turquoise sandals at Nordstrom
Rack…the entire get up costs me about $30.
So on Sunday, we showed up to register Peyton. I realized that this wasn’t
put on by Miss Helotes like I thought it would be. It was put on by a pageant
cult…I mean, a pageant circuit. I look
on the stage and there are crowns of different sizes, sashes of different
colors, and trophies of different sizes. This was my first clue….
So after I sign Peyton up, I am watching as Mom’s start
hauling their daughters, no….make that show ponies….they are hauling their show
ponies in. Funny thing is, all the local
girls were dressed in cute summer outfits with the normal southern “satellite bow”
adorned to their pretty little heads…mine included! All looking like sweet
little southern ladies, but with a little sass….after all, that’s how we roll!
Then there were the out of towners…the non-locals. As they strolled in with
their show ponies in tow, I was thinking “Y’all aren’t from these parts, are ya
pilgrim…” I’m not kidding when I say that there was a girl that was probably 10
years old wearing 4 inch heels….oh yes…and she could strut in those bad boys
better than I ever could! When I heard other mom’s talking trash about these
girls, first I moved. I didn’t need to hear them disrespecting a child and
neither did Peyton…was I in awe of how these girls looked? Duh….but it is not
their fault….I blame their mother. I
couldn’t help but laugh ‘til I almost peed my pants when a mother of one of the
non-locals asked where they could change and they told her, “You can change her
in the handicapped port-o-potty…” YES!!!!! Oh my goodness! This is just too
damn good!!!!!
So one of the women running this show says that the girls
can go on the stage and practice. Practice
what? Oh Lord….here’s my second clue. So
as if they just opened the gates to Disney World, the non-locals make their way
to the stage in a colorful, sparkled, fluffy herd. I walk up to Miss Judy and ask her what they
mean by “practice”…were we supposed to have a routine prepared? If so, I’m going to play some Skunkweed so
they can all see Peyton’s mad break dancing skills! Ms. Judy tells me that the
stage is marked off and they show them where to stand and that sort of thing…and
that is also gives them something to do while they are waiting. So I go tell
Peyton to go up there and I can’t help but laugh…she had mud all over her! Here
she is with these perfectly coifed show ponies and my kid is sweaty and muddy. That’s my girl! But no worries, I knew that this would
probably happen so I brought her sun dress along with us to change her into
before the pageant. Once they announced
that the show was about to begin, I brought Peyton over to the bleachers and
stripped her down and changed her. No big deal….she’s 3….if the woman with the
see-through linen shorts gave me one more dirty look as I changed her, I was
going to yell, “Nice thong!” Get over it! It was now time to join the rest of
the show ponies…as we were all waiting for our child’s number to be called, a
little girl that was looking at Peyton’s shoes and went to grab
the flower that was on her sandal. Her
mom picked her up and said, “At the last pageant we were at, she messed up a
little girl’s shoe…” Uh, excuse me…did you say “last pageant”….oh Lord have
mercy! She then tells me that they are from Corpus Christi….HUH? People are
driving HOURS for this? And there isn’t even any money involved…and gas is
almost $4 a gallon….I continued to be amazed.
So Peyton walks up there and I watch her from the side of the stage…Ms.
Judy was sweet enough to tell her to smile and to wave…poor thing was just
standing up there wondering what the hell was going on. But it was hilarious!
Now, I forgot to mention that when we registered, we had to
fill out paperwork that had a “fill in the blank style” format so the MC could
talk about them. This is what Peyton’s
ended up being…. “This is Peyton. She is 3 years old and her hometown is San
Antonio. She is wearing a cool sundress
perfect for the Texas heat. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. Her favorite thing to do at home is jumping on
her trampoline. She is in preschool and
her favorite part of school is chapel.
Her favorite fruit is apples and her favorite food is chicken nuggets.
Her favorite thing to watch on TV is Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. When she grows up
she wants to be a firefighter like her Daddy.”
Okay…so simple enough right? All
of her answers were what SHE gave me…here is an example of the type of things I
heard as they announced the non-locals. “This is Sarah. She is 4 years old and her hometown is Lake
Macadamia. She is wearing a coral, yellow, and pink ensemble that compliments
her tropical skin tone, along with gold sandals, beautiful diamond earrings,
and stylish designer sunglasses. She has shiny chestnut brown hair with flecks
of natural highlights and Caribbean blue eyes. Her favorite thing to do at home
is help her mommy clean house and take her elderly neighbors brownies. She is
in preschool and her favorite subject is lunch…yum yum! Her favorite fruit is
strawberries and her favorite food is cupcakes that are as sweet as her! Her
favorite shows to watch on TV are Dance Moms and Toddlers & Tiaras. When
she grows up she wants to be a philanthropist!”
Uh, really? I’m very doubtful that
your 4 year old knows what a philanthropist is seeing that her favorite subject
in school is lunch…
So the “crowning ceremony” finally happens…thank God because
I am sweating like whore in church and I fear the possible mudslide that might
occur if the older contestants’ makeup starts to melt off their face. So first
they do the community award, followed by the photogenic award, the portfolio
award, the beauty awards, the princess award, and lastly, the PRINCESS SUPREME
AWARD….I knew it! This is Toddlers & Tiaras! Where are the cameras?!? Supreme? I have only heard that terminology a
few times, and all have been while watching Toddlers & Tiaras! I was
talking to some old friends while this is all going on… I hear Peyton yelling
at the MC, “I’m getting sweaty over here! Hey! Excuse me! I’m sweaty!” I love this girl! I continue to watch, and
when the crowning for her division is over, Peyton has 2 crowns, 2 sashes, a trophy, a
medal, and a paper that says, “Best Hair”….OMG! She is going to fall over! Some
of these girls have MORE than 2 crowns….are they going to give a “Tower ‘o
Crowns” award? What does all this mean? I finally understand that the “supreme” for
this category comes back at the end to choose the Grand Supreme…I only
understood this when one of my friends put it in livestock terms. It’s like the
Champion Run…for those that aren’t livestock show people, that’s when the
champions from each class from that particular animal (i.e. pigs, goats, steer,
lambs…and so on)come back at the end to choose the Grand Champion for that
animal… Well, Peyton was not “champion” of her “class” so she didn’t have to
come back for the “champion run” but I was so happy to see that a darling
little local girl was chosen as the “champion” of their “class”. There is hope
for us locals yet! Since we weren’t
obligated to stay you know what we did? She
and I went and rode the Ferris Wheel (as I had promised her) to end our
Cornyval season. And as we enjoyed the warm breeze, she looked up at me and
said, “Today was a good day, Mom!” I
asked her if she had fun and she said that she did. Then I asked her the question that I always
ask….”Peyton, what makes you a pretty girl?”
And she replied, “My sweet heart.”
That’s all she needs to know. No little girl should be taught to believe
that a crown makes her more beautiful or makes her more confident. A parent who
teaches them to be a respectful, giving, kind, supportive, and genuine person
is teaching them what beauty REALLY is…But, I can confidently say that I will never put my kid in one of these things ever again....when she gets to the age that she can decide if she is ready to make the commitment it takes to be on a pageant court, we'll cross that road when we get there. I just want my girl growing up seeing the beauty in people for what it REALLY is! But I do have to say that I was pretty damn happy that she got "Best Hair" award! Those curly locks get them every time!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)