God Sent Us an Angel

After dinner and a full days work for my mom and I, we were in the kitchen doing dishes. With the laundry going, left-overs to be put away and a dirty floor, we began discussing the grievances of life.

“Life is so much work,” I complained to my mother, unsure of what the response would be. I half expected a “Get-over-it” answer. I kind of anticipated a “But-it’s-worth-it” reply.

To my surprise, I got a sudden “Oh my gawsh I know!”

She said it in one breath, like she’d been holding it in for days. As if she wanted so badly to share this verity with someone, but wouldn’t dare be the first to complain.

We went on.
“You have to do dishes once, sometimes twice a day. Laundry needs to be done weekly.”
“Vacuuming, mopping, dusting; and those are just chores in the house. Then you have to actually go to work to make money.”
“And some of us have school!”

Suddenly we were interrupted.

“JUST BE GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE!!!!!” we heard a little angel yell. My 6 year old niece came flying through the kitchen, halo and all. “Just be glad to be alive guys.” she repeated once more.

“You could not be alive. And then what?"

My mom agreed with her, obviously not wanting to crush her young, naive attitude towards life. But me? I wanted to set the angel straight.

Well yes, sugar plum. That’s easy for you to say! “Happy to be alive.” Ha!
You’re biggest fear is bats being in the woods.
You’re biggest disappointment is taking a nap in the afternoon.
Every penny you find gets spent on toys.
You can still get candy on Halloween!
You’re dreams haven’t met reality.

These are the exact words that flew through my head at the time. I wanted to be proud of my niece. I wanted to recognize her young wisdom and commend her. But what I really felt was sorry for her. Sorry that she would someday be disappointed. Sorry that the world will condemn her for being positive, calling her "naïve," and not take her wisdom seriously calling her "young."
But dwelling on her words I've started to feel more for them. I had a very hollow response when the words seemed to only skim my mind. But it started to sink in. Be happy to be alive.

First of all, she's six. And she is VERY wise. Most of what she says is very insightful. And I don't ever want to be the empty vessel making her feel like her words mean nothing.

I see so much of my younger self in her, with her positive outlook on life. I'm just afraid for her. I don't want her to believe people when they say innocence is a bad thing. I don't want her to ever feel naïve. And mostly I want her to always hold on to that feeling, to be happy to be alive.

I just get so caught up in the negatives I never think about being happy to be alive. I get caught up in blaming Adam and Eve for this life, and dreaming of Heaven. "How can I be happy to be alive when if I'm dead I'll be in Heaven?"

That's my thought process. And it's wrong.

What makes me think I'm going to Heaven when God clearly put me on Earth for a purpose and all I do is whine and complain and not complete that purpose?

It's something I need to work on for sure, and I thank God everyday for my little angel!

Holla' at ya girl!

Sometimes, the hardest thing in life is being happy for yourself.

or... is that just me?

I think for some people it might just come natural - being proud,
being confident, being okay with getting the good attention.

Don't get me wrong, I am so okay with getting attention.

That's why I wear shirts that say stuff like

I ♥ To Fart

And dress in giant Sumo Wrestler suits and fight people

But I think it's just easier for some of us to feel sorry for ourselves.
Being okay with our weaknesses and what we don't have is more comfortable than being okay with our strengths and what we do have.

I'm not saying that loving to fart is a weakness..

It might be hard to swallow, hard to admit, but most of us like keeping the emphasis on the bad, the sad and the ugly. It can be uncomfortable being happy for ourselves, and sharing our success stories with others.
Others might get their feelings hurt if we are proud of ourselves, and happy with everything we have. We are not confident enough to risk being egotistical and obnoxious.

But the truth is, with the more confidence we have in ourselves, the more okay we will be with both our strengths and weaknesses. And sometimes your confidence will inspire confidence among others, and your success stories will inspire others to do the same."Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

-Marianne Williamson

Take for example my mom, who started blogging a few years ago on blogspot and turned her blog into her own website: PlanetPookie.com

She's the first person I know to have started a blog. She's kept it up the same from the very beginning. No matter how many people viewed the blog, no matter how many people commented, no matter how many people follow.. She does it, because it makes her happy. And she's darn good at it!

Now she's got a ton of people subscribed to her blog, a ton of daily readers. And just about every time I go out, somebody mentions one of her recent blog posts.
She's always had enough confidence in herself and in what she was doing to not quit.

Me? I quit. I started blogging years ago and quit after so long without any new readers. It felt like only my family was reading, and I thought nothing I wrote was interesting anyway. A while later I picked it back up again, thinking I'd start a video blog! But I did two of those and quit.

So now I'm back, with my mom as my inspiration. I post just as often as I have something to write. I say whatever is on my mind. And if people don't care, they don't have to read it. It doesn't bother me anymore if someone doesn't want to comment on my blog post, or if nobody wants to read it. It's here for me.

And my mom's confidence inspired my confidence. My mom's success story inspired my success story.

Nahh I still don't have 1,273 followers.

BUT I have 1,273 views! and 17 followers.

AND yesterday, I was Editor's Pick for Bloggers.com!
MY blog was the very first one you'd see when you visited the website!

So as a special thanks to my mommy, I would like to re-direct everyone who reads this post to PlanetPookie.com.

Written by the woman I just heard in the kitchen say oh so calmly, "Ooh, the towel's on fire."

So please, Go holla' at ya girl!!

Our White-ish Christmas.

Twas the night after Christmas,

and all through the house,

every creature was stirring,

from human to mouse.

The stockings were empty and lay on the floor,

For Dear old St. Nick visited the night before.

The children were jumping and shouting all night,

While parents would check weather.com in fright.

And mama in her jamies, and I in my coat,

were ready for Santa to bring us some snow.

When out on the lawn there began a white fall,

I ran out the door, slipper's and all.

The very next morning we flew like a flash,

Tore open the Busbee's and tossed them a sash.

The sun on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Had me shout through the house, "Hey yall, let's go!"

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But the hood of a car, hooked to a Toyota's rear.

With a little old driver, so lively and thug,

I knew in a moment it must be Mr. Doug.

More rapid than hound dogs he surely came,

And he whistled and shouted and called us by name;

"Now, Brielle! Now, Ethan! Now Marj and Bryson!

On, Eva! On Patti! On Robby and Grayson!

To the big open field! To the end of the wood!

Now don't be afraid! Hop on the hood!"

Oh, the power of the wii

So I'm sitting here, cuddled up in my cozy freezing cold bed, with blankets up to my neck because my heat unit is not blowing warm air, but yet, cold air. Imagine that.

So it's freezing in here man!

My sister Patti and my niece just left, I don't blame them. If I were clean, I would have left too. But it's too cold to take a shower. SO, I'm hiding from the world in my cave-like room.

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But while they were here, we had a good ol' time playing Super Mario Bros 3 on the wii.

Have you ever tried to play that game with a 5 year old?

It was like a time-machine and we were both 10 years younger. I swear, between the "OOH let me try!" and the "NO! Watch out! ..UGH!" it was very difficult to feel like an adult.

And my niece, my poor niece, she tried and she tried, but when it comes to Mario we've got over a decade on her. Every time she would try to beat a level, she would end up falling off the cliff or getting hit by some sort of animal. So her mama and I would be sitting there, "Watch out!! Yeah, that turtle will kill you," and "NO girl! Jump over that cliff!" "If you fall down the cliff you're going to die. Just like real life."

It was hard for us to restrain ourselves and act like the adults in the room. I don't know what came over me - reaching for the controller, throwing things when I lost, getting mad at others when they lost because I just know I would have done better.

And finally we made it our goal to get to the castle. My niece really wanted to get to the castle. But there was one level immediately before the castle that we just couldn't beat! It was like a maze with several paths to go down, but you had to break a brick wall to get there.

So we would pick up the turtle and hit the brick wall, but when we were lucky enough to survive the ricochet of the turtle, we would go on to find out that we went the wrong way. And we would either somehow run out of time, or die.

We were getting serious about this. Soon my niece took the controller from my sister and gave it to me as she gave her mommy a I'm-disappointed-in-you look.

By bed-time we beat the level and headed into the castle.

Mission Complete.

And yet, when I woke up this morning, they were at it again. World 1 Level 1, my niece, my sister, and now her fiance had even come over to help out.

What is it about these games that make us so crazy?

Fam(ily)

There I was, chilling with my hot, glow-in-the-dark, fake ray-ban sunglasses feeling like I could ignore the world and still be loved. Because these shades are that cool.

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I just recently got these amazing sunglasses. Hardly anyone knows about their amazingness, because it has to be completely dark to see it.

That's right, they're glow in the dark.

I am totally pumped about them, by the way.

I'm not sure what it is about these sunglasses that gets to me. I don't know if it's the irony of them, the complete randomness of them, or the fact that they were free.

But either way, I'm in.

For Fall Break I spent a few days at home chilling my good friends, catching up with my ever-growing small town, and visiting my family.

One night, my mom and I were on our third Mary-Kate and Ashley movie when I saw my sunglasses just sitting there. The little kid that I am, of course I jumped up and begged my mom to come see them glow in the dark! My brother was playing with his fancy Cannon (insert number) camera, so I asked him if he would come and try to get a picture of it.

It didn't take much convincing, but it took us several tries to find a room dark enough. We walked room to room until we found the perfect room.

And when we did, it was amazing.

We laughed and laughed at the sight of neon sunglasses just floating in the pitch black space.

This made me realize that I have so much more than amazing sunglasses in my life. My family, is, amazing.

The fact that my mom & brother took the time to see what I was so excited about.

The fact that they got as in to my sunglasses as I was.

The fact that my mom watched three Mary Kate and Ashley movies in a row with me.

My family cares enough about me to care about my sunglasses.

They care about what I care about, because they care about me? A lot of people don't have that, and I am just really, really glad that I made it home to experience it once again.

Where Are My Tears?

Just after hearing that my great grandma died yesterday morning, I got another phone call that my grandpa, on the other side of the family, also passed away.

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Hearing the news of Nana, while extremely sad, was expected. I got to say goodbye to her. I hoped deep in my heart a miracle would happen, and she'd be wake up with a 75 year old body & mind & live forever. But to get that news and not cry was understandable. I had already cried those tears. I had been crying those tears randomly for months.

But hearing that my Grandpa died, out of the blue, in his sleep; it just kind of hits you, like running into a pole. You don't see it coming (obviously), it shocks you and hurts for a couple minutes, but then you don't really feel the reality of the pain until the next day.

My Grandpa was such a nice guy. He was so funny. I didn't get to see him too often because he lived in Florida, but it's the fact that I'll never see him again that makes me miss him so much right now. The fact that I didn't know the last time I saw him might actually be the last time I ever saw him.

Today has just been a day of thinking about Papa and all the fun things I remember about him.

I'll never forget the first time I went golfing with him, Dad, & Aunt Ma. They taught me everything I know about golfing, from which club I should use to how close I can get a golf cart to the green. He was so serious about his golfing. The whole family is. I got to thinking about this when I read my dad's facebook status about Papa's last day. He said:

Dad's last day on earth: 18 holes of golf, a nap, dinner at Cracker Barrel, watch the Yankees, go to bed. A perfect day in his world!

It made me laugh because it's so true. And then I thought about how many times we've eaten early bird dinners at Cracker Barrel. And his amazing cheesecake. And I read some things my cousins wrote on facebook that reminded me of how Papa always said he wanted his first tattoo to be two propellors on his butt cheeks. haha.

I just love how the memories make me laugh. That's a good thing. I like celebrating the life we enjoyed over crying for the death we suffer.

RIP

Rest in Peace?

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RIP is the typical way to address a death in writing. And it seems like such a nice thing to say.

"Rest in Peace." Like the person who just passed is resting.

And in most cases I use it. RIP. I think with every person, or animal who has died in my life, I've said RIP.

But I just can't say, RIP Nana.

Nana has been resting in peace for long enough, don't you think?

As far as peacefulness goes, rarely have I ever seen her not peaceful.

I mean, maybe that one time when I threw a fit because I wanted a Strom

boli, and it stressed Mimi out and made her cry. Nana really got on to me.

But even at 1am when Nana would walk into the living room and catch me and Brian still awake watching tv, she was very peaceful.

Even when she lost at yahtzee, even when she needed help to get out of a chair, and had trouble opening Christmas presents, and even when she had to move in to a nursing home with a roommate who chewed tobacco and kept the room 80 degrees. She was always at peace.

And she has been stuck in that bed resting for months now. Stuck with the walker and cain for years. I think she's had enough rest.

It just feels.. not right. I don't want Nana to rest anymore. It might sound strange or retarded but I smile when I think about Nana in heaven, with her sisters and her husband! With a new body, and wings! Not only can she get out of bed she can fly! (honestly idk if the Bible says we'll fly, but don't it sound good?) And while her heart is still at peace, I just picture her so incredibly happy.

So RIP, Nana? nah. RIP's for the birds. Heaven's for you!

Nana playing school with Eva.

The Plague of Quiddler

NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE BUBONIC PLAGUE.

though both may cause

Weakness

Severe headache

And a general ill feeling

The difference is, the Bubonic plague is rarely spread from person to person. While this one can't seem to stop.

Charlotte

Me & Patti went to Charlotte this weekend for Mimi's bday party!
And my long lost cousin David told me to update my blog sooo here goes.They decided it was a fire hazard to put the right # of candles.

Me & tha boo.

Me & Bazil

Me & Nana in our mu mu's.

Horticulture, Mice & Old People.

Horticulture: The science or art of cultivating fruits, vegetables, flowers, or ornamental plants.

I couldn't even explain why that's so funny, but it was. And it still is. That word made me cry, in front of everybody!! Cuz I was laughing sooo darn hard.

Soo Moms birthday was pretty awsome! First we all assumed our positions so we could jump out and yell "SURPRISE!!"


Then we ate wings.










Then we searched under the couch for a mouse Ms. Connie swore she saw. Then I saw it!!! Then, I saw it's shadow on the wall & it looked huge!!Then all the guys stayed in one room talking about Obama, while all the girls stayed in one room talking about the anti-christ.... hmmm.... Then the kids went out & swam, and the adults played a game. Then we all played games & some people showed off their dancing skills.
Anywho's, it was alot of fun. Way better than my bday party, I'm guessing because a certain someone wasn't there for mine.. ehem.

Happy Birthday Mommy [[ Dearest ]]

PAYBACK!!

This is in honor of my Mommy. Happy Birthday!
What are you.. 49??

I wrote you a poem:

I love my old old Mommy,
Even though she gave us Tommy,
She's pretty sweet,
She loves red meat,
She'll even eat Salami.

Today she's fourty-nine,
The doctors say she's fine,
With extra love,
God up above,
Will give her some more time.

Some things she's never shown,
She keeps them in her home,
Like how she works,
Her silly quirks,
& Her love to be alone.

I bet you'd never guess,
She's as redneck as the best,
Though she tries to hide,
Her country side,
At home she will attest.

I ♥ U MOMMY!