What is meant to be will be
Just a Question
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Should someone who wakes up in the morning and takes his blood pressure medicine with a glass of shiraz (at around 10:00 a.m.) throw a hissy fit because someone else comes home after work and enjoys a glass of pinot (at around 6:00 p.m.)?
Blessed by chele at 2:27 PM
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Top Looks Good - Still Checking on the Bottom
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Good News: It seems that my mammogram shows no evidence of malignancy and they are recommending that I schedule another one in a year. The official results read as follows:
The breasts are densely fibroglandular. Two adjacent punctuate calcifications are seen in the inferior left breast. No skin thickening or retraction is seen.
Good News Delayed: The pelvic ultrasound shows bilateral ovarian cysts. The cyst on the right ovary is three times larger than the cyst on the left ovary and it has, what the doctor calls “walls” running through it. The good news (according to her) is that they were described as cysts and not a “mass” or “growth”. Anyway, she’s referring me to someone else so they can determine if the cyst on the right side should come out.
Ain’t getting older, great? Seriously, I’m not concerned.
In the meantime, I’m counting down to Vegas, Baby! 14 days and I’ll be in Sin City. My sister and I haven’t been on vacation together in years. Lord knows we need the break. Truth be told – I’d rather be spending this time with the object of my affection but he was seriously acting up when the plans were being made – which is why we made the plans (so I could get away from his ass).
New Year’s Eve is going to be quiet. I have absolutely no plans, which is probably for the best. I like to spend midnight with the kids and this may be the last one that my son will want to hang out at home.
I’m having an attack of the **melancholies**. That happens whenever I think about my son moving out. Not that I don’t want him to – I do. But I think most women feel this way about their first-born. He’s my baby. When I told him I was going to the doctor yesterday he asked me if I had cancer. I said, “I hope not.” I had a conversation with my beloved over the weekend about our purpose for being here. I believe that my purpose is to raise my children. Once I do that I will be able to leave here peacefully. Does that sound nuts? I just want to see them safely into adulthood.
The breasts are densely fibroglandular. Two adjacent punctuate calcifications are seen in the inferior left breast. No skin thickening or retraction is seen.
Good News Delayed: The pelvic ultrasound shows bilateral ovarian cysts. The cyst on the right ovary is three times larger than the cyst on the left ovary and it has, what the doctor calls “walls” running through it. The good news (according to her) is that they were described as cysts and not a “mass” or “growth”. Anyway, she’s referring me to someone else so they can determine if the cyst on the right side should come out.
Ain’t getting older, great? Seriously, I’m not concerned.
In the meantime, I’m counting down to Vegas, Baby! 14 days and I’ll be in Sin City. My sister and I haven’t been on vacation together in years. Lord knows we need the break. Truth be told – I’d rather be spending this time with the object of my affection but he was seriously acting up when the plans were being made – which is why we made the plans (so I could get away from his ass).
New Year’s Eve is going to be quiet. I have absolutely no plans, which is probably for the best. I like to spend midnight with the kids and this may be the last one that my son will want to hang out at home.
I’m having an attack of the **melancholies**. That happens whenever I think about my son moving out. Not that I don’t want him to – I do. But I think most women feel this way about their first-born. He’s my baby. When I told him I was going to the doctor yesterday he asked me if I had cancer. I said, “I hope not.” I had a conversation with my beloved over the weekend about our purpose for being here. I believe that my purpose is to raise my children. Once I do that I will be able to leave here peacefully. Does that sound nuts? I just want to see them safely into adulthood.
Blessed by chele at 4:16 PM | Permalink |
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The Christmas Conversation
Sunday, December 25, 2005
So I’m walking through Food Lion minding my own business on Christmas Eve. The store is packed and I would have rather been lying on my new sofa basking in the glow of accomplishment when all of a sudden I am interrupted by the sound of my cell phone ringing. I can’t leave the house for five minutes without someone bugging me. I look at the screen and I see it is my boyfriend (that’s what I call him now) …
Me: Hello?
Him: What ‘cha doin’ face (that’s what he calls me)
Me: Walking through Food Lion
Him: Hey, can I ask you something?
Me: Of course
Him: (hesitates) Well, there’s something that I’ve wanted to get you for a while and …
I thought I had dropped the call because he had stopped speaking
Me: Hello?
Him: I’m here
Me: You said you had to ask a question
Him: (nervously) Well, it’s just that I don’t want to get this thing if you don’t want it … I mean I guess I could keep the receipt … I don’t know … I’ve wanted to get it for you for a while …
Me: Okay
Him: I’ll just get it
Me: Okay
Him: Okay. I’ll see you shortly
Me: Okay
I hang up the phone dumbfounded not knowing what the hell he was talking about but I have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach all of a sudden.
A few hours later I’m in my kitchen frying up some catfish. I love catfish. The cornbread is in the oven and the kids are eyeing the Christmas tree, then the clock, then the Christmas tree, then the clock …
Passion: Ma, I’m going to wake up at 5:00 tomorrow
Reason: I can’t wait until tomorrow, Mom! I love you!
Me: I love you too, Baby
My boyfriend shows up with a truckload of gifts. He and my children have never had a warm relationship so when he presented them both with cash-filled cards I was surprised and touched by his thoughtfulness. My greedy kids said a hasty ‘thank you’ and began thinking of all the extra stuff they were going to buy with the money.
He came in with two boxes for me. One was huge and the other was medium-sized. I had one medium-sized box for him. After dinner he asked if we could go upstairs and exchange gifts. We would not be spending Christmas morning together (which is when I open my gifts) so I thought his request was reasonable. He grabbed the medium-sized box that he had for me and we went upstairs to my bedroom.
I made him open his gift first – I got him a digital camera. He’s been bugging me for one for the longest time. His eyes lit up like a kid’s and I knew that I made the right choice. I’m not even going to tell you all the things he plans to do with that daggone thing.
He hands me the medium-sized box that he has for me. It is wrapped in brown shiny paper with a gold bow.
Me: You didn’t wrap this did you?
Him: Why do you say that? Because it’s too nice?
Me: (laughing) I’m just saying … (carefully opening the gift trying not to rip the paper)
Him: Just rip it!
I finally get the paper off and it is a beautiful jewelry box. It really was lovely and when I opened the jewelry box there was another box inside. The smaller box was wrapped with the same brown shiny paper and gold bow. The same sick feeling is coming over me and I don’t want to open the smaller box. I take a deep breath and remove the paper carefully.
Him: I hope you like it
Beneath the paper is a white box. I open the white box and inside I find an exquisite diamond and platinum cross necklace. It is simply gorgeous and the sick feeling immediately leaves and I exhale.
I mentioned a few months ago that I had seen a diamond cross that I had wanted to get for myself. It was wrapped in white gold – not platinum and it was slightly bigger than the one he bought. I saw mine at Kay’s. He went to Jared. I was very pleased. But also very confused. This couldn’t have been what he was talking about when he called me. He hadn’t wanted to buy me a cross for a long time. I just told him about it a few months ago. What the hell?
This morning when the kids and I got up to open our gifts I reached for the huge box that the boyfriend had brought over. As soon as I ripped off the paper the confusion was all cleared up. What was inside? The thing that he’d been wanting to buy me for at least two years.
A GE stainless steel professional style deep fryer.
Men.
Me: Hello?
Him: What ‘cha doin’ face (that’s what he calls me)
Me: Walking through Food Lion
Him: Hey, can I ask you something?
Me: Of course
Him: (hesitates) Well, there’s something that I’ve wanted to get you for a while and …
I thought I had dropped the call because he had stopped speaking
Me: Hello?
Him: I’m here
Me: You said you had to ask a question
Him: (nervously) Well, it’s just that I don’t want to get this thing if you don’t want it … I mean I guess I could keep the receipt … I don’t know … I’ve wanted to get it for you for a while …
Me: Okay
Him: I’ll just get it
Me: Okay
Him: Okay. I’ll see you shortly
Me: Okay
I hang up the phone dumbfounded not knowing what the hell he was talking about but I have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach all of a sudden.
A few hours later I’m in my kitchen frying up some catfish. I love catfish. The cornbread is in the oven and the kids are eyeing the Christmas tree, then the clock, then the Christmas tree, then the clock …
Passion: Ma, I’m going to wake up at 5:00 tomorrow
Reason: I can’t wait until tomorrow, Mom! I love you!
Me: I love you too, Baby
My boyfriend shows up with a truckload of gifts. He and my children have never had a warm relationship so when he presented them both with cash-filled cards I was surprised and touched by his thoughtfulness. My greedy kids said a hasty ‘thank you’ and began thinking of all the extra stuff they were going to buy with the money.
He came in with two boxes for me. One was huge and the other was medium-sized. I had one medium-sized box for him. After dinner he asked if we could go upstairs and exchange gifts. We would not be spending Christmas morning together (which is when I open my gifts) so I thought his request was reasonable. He grabbed the medium-sized box that he had for me and we went upstairs to my bedroom.
I made him open his gift first – I got him a digital camera. He’s been bugging me for one for the longest time. His eyes lit up like a kid’s and I knew that I made the right choice. I’m not even going to tell you all the things he plans to do with that daggone thing.
He hands me the medium-sized box that he has for me. It is wrapped in brown shiny paper with a gold bow.
Me: You didn’t wrap this did you?
Him: Why do you say that? Because it’s too nice?
Me: (laughing) I’m just saying … (carefully opening the gift trying not to rip the paper)
Him: Just rip it!
I finally get the paper off and it is a beautiful jewelry box. It really was lovely and when I opened the jewelry box there was another box inside. The smaller box was wrapped with the same brown shiny paper and gold bow. The same sick feeling is coming over me and I don’t want to open the smaller box. I take a deep breath and remove the paper carefully.
Him: I hope you like it
Beneath the paper is a white box. I open the white box and inside I find an exquisite diamond and platinum cross necklace. It is simply gorgeous and the sick feeling immediately leaves and I exhale.
I mentioned a few months ago that I had seen a diamond cross that I had wanted to get for myself. It was wrapped in white gold – not platinum and it was slightly bigger than the one he bought. I saw mine at Kay’s. He went to Jared. I was very pleased. But also very confused. This couldn’t have been what he was talking about when he called me. He hadn’t wanted to buy me a cross for a long time. I just told him about it a few months ago. What the hell?
This morning when the kids and I got up to open our gifts I reached for the huge box that the boyfriend had brought over. As soon as I ripped off the paper the confusion was all cleared up. What was inside? The thing that he’d been wanting to buy me for at least two years.
A GE stainless steel professional style deep fryer.
Men.
Blessed by chele at 8:47 AM | Permalink |
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Merry Christmas
Friday, December 23, 2005
Hope your holiday is blessed.
Be safe.
Love each other.
Be kind to each each other.
Be safe.
Love each other.
Be kind to each each other.
Blessed by chele at 10:37 AM | Permalink |
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The Year In Review
Monday, December 19, 2005
I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions. At least not publicly. You see, in addition to my anger issues I have accountability issues. I would hate for someone to come up to me in February and say, “I thought you were going to stop drinking in ’06.” It would just be a reminder of my shortcomings and my inability to follow through so I tend to keep my resolutions to myself.
This year, I figure the best way to make 2006 resolutions would be to take a quick look back at 2005 and resolve to correct past failures or at least find a better way to handle certain situations. Does that make sense? I hope so, because what follows are some of the significant events of 2005.
2005 – My Life in Review
Happy Birthday! - That’s right – I turned 41. I don’t freak out about my birthday anymore. What’s the point? I love the age that I am. You know what I like the most? Recently, a few people have said to me, “You look good for 40.” I love to correct them and say, “I’m 41!” Don’t cheat me out of that extra year. Besides, if I look good for 40 than I look better for 41.
Unbreak My Heart – Just when I thought I was safe from being hurt … I suffered the kind of heartbreak that I will never recover from. I’m not being overly dramatic. I mean, I’m functioning but I don’t feel like I can trust LOVE. I don’t ever picture myself taking a chance and telling another man that I love him. Enough already – I’ve been here before and it seems to get harder. I’m done.
You’re Hired! – I started a new job and it turned out to be the best professional move of my career. I’m in a position where I am respected and my opinion is sought out and valued. The salary that was offered was more than what I requested and since my date of hire I have received at least $800 in bonuses and was voted Quarter 3 Employee of the Quarter. Not too shabby.
Introducing … The Fly Girls – I joined a hip-hop dance class. My daughter, my two nieces and my younger sister all belong to the same dance studio. Last year I attended their recital and wished that I was on stage with them. So this year, I signed up and our recital is in June. The class is once a week and it’s harder than I thought but at least I get out of the house and get my heart rate up for an hour. So far, so good.
Will You Put That Thing Out! – I feel terrible about this … but I fell off the wagon and started smoking again. Yuck. I know, I know. I’m a closet stress smoker and when the stress comes I chain smoke and by the time the stress dissipates I’m hooked again.
Hell Hath No Fury … - I reacted violently to a stressful situation and was almost arrested. Not one of my proudest moments. I have never, ever hit another human being in anger. Needless to say this scared the hell out of me because even though I’ve been angry enough to do it in the past, I was always able to maintain control. Luckily, the recipient of my anger decided recently not to press charges, but for the first couple of weeks I was constantly in fear of being served a warrant at my new job.
A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste – I started a college fund for my children. My son will be graduating from high school in a couple of years and I keep telling him that he’s going to college. Up until recently, I had no idea how I was going to swing that -- thank God for the cash-out refi!
Sing, Sing a Song – I performed at the “Blues on the Boardwalk” on the Virginia Beach Oceanfront over the summer. This is not the first time that I sang in front of a crowd but this was certainly the largest crowd. Performing always gives me a rush. Sadly, I haven’t sung a note in months (long story).
I Enjoy Being a Girl – Even though my doctor has informed me that there is an “abnormality” in my left breast which needs further study AND she discovered a cyst on one of my ovaries. What the hell? It’s my understanding that the cyst is no big deal … I have an appointment next week to go over all this stuff.
Vegas, Baby! – I booked my Vegas vacation. I’m going the first of the year. Five days in Vegas! I don’t know what to expect but I’m going to have a good time. I deserve this like you wouldn’t believe.
So, based on all this and some other things that I haven’t listed I have made the following resolutions for 2006:
1. Place more value on the love that I already have in my life: my family and good
This year, I figure the best way to make 2006 resolutions would be to take a quick look back at 2005 and resolve to correct past failures or at least find a better way to handle certain situations. Does that make sense? I hope so, because what follows are some of the significant events of 2005.
2005 – My Life in Review
Happy Birthday! - That’s right – I turned 41. I don’t freak out about my birthday anymore. What’s the point? I love the age that I am. You know what I like the most? Recently, a few people have said to me, “You look good for 40.” I love to correct them and say, “I’m 41!” Don’t cheat me out of that extra year. Besides, if I look good for 40 than I look better for 41.
Unbreak My Heart – Just when I thought I was safe from being hurt … I suffered the kind of heartbreak that I will never recover from. I’m not being overly dramatic. I mean, I’m functioning but I don’t feel like I can trust LOVE. I don’t ever picture myself taking a chance and telling another man that I love him. Enough already – I’ve been here before and it seems to get harder. I’m done.
You’re Hired! – I started a new job and it turned out to be the best professional move of my career. I’m in a position where I am respected and my opinion is sought out and valued. The salary that was offered was more than what I requested and since my date of hire I have received at least $800 in bonuses and was voted Quarter 3 Employee of the Quarter. Not too shabby.
Introducing … The Fly Girls – I joined a hip-hop dance class. My daughter, my two nieces and my younger sister all belong to the same dance studio. Last year I attended their recital and wished that I was on stage with them. So this year, I signed up and our recital is in June. The class is once a week and it’s harder than I thought but at least I get out of the house and get my heart rate up for an hour. So far, so good.
Will You Put That Thing Out! – I feel terrible about this … but I fell off the wagon and started smoking again. Yuck. I know, I know. I’m a closet stress smoker and when the stress comes I chain smoke and by the time the stress dissipates I’m hooked again.
Hell Hath No Fury … - I reacted violently to a stressful situation and was almost arrested. Not one of my proudest moments. I have never, ever hit another human being in anger. Needless to say this scared the hell out of me because even though I’ve been angry enough to do it in the past, I was always able to maintain control. Luckily, the recipient of my anger decided recently not to press charges, but for the first couple of weeks I was constantly in fear of being served a warrant at my new job.
A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste – I started a college fund for my children. My son will be graduating from high school in a couple of years and I keep telling him that he’s going to college. Up until recently, I had no idea how I was going to swing that -- thank God for the cash-out refi!
Sing, Sing a Song – I performed at the “Blues on the Boardwalk” on the Virginia Beach Oceanfront over the summer. This is not the first time that I sang in front of a crowd but this was certainly the largest crowd. Performing always gives me a rush. Sadly, I haven’t sung a note in months (long story).
I Enjoy Being a Girl – Even though my doctor has informed me that there is an “abnormality” in my left breast which needs further study AND she discovered a cyst on one of my ovaries. What the hell? It’s my understanding that the cyst is no big deal … I have an appointment next week to go over all this stuff.
Vegas, Baby! – I booked my Vegas vacation. I’m going the first of the year. Five days in Vegas! I don’t know what to expect but I’m going to have a good time. I deserve this like you wouldn’t believe.
So, based on all this and some other things that I haven’t listed I have made the following resolutions for 2006:
1. Place more value on the love that I already have in my life: my family and good
friends and not get so bunched up because my romantic life is less than perfect.
2. Quit smoking – as of today I haven’t had a cigarette in 5 days!
3. Develop better techniques to deal with stress, i.e., prayer, count to ten instead
2. Quit smoking – as of today I haven’t had a cigarette in 5 days!
3. Develop better techniques to deal with stress, i.e., prayer, count to ten instead
of running to a bottle of Pinot, violence or cigarettes
4. Continue to regularly make deposits to the education fund
5. Pay more attention to my health – I’m not getting any younger.
4. Continue to regularly make deposits to the education fund
5. Pay more attention to my health – I’m not getting any younger.
I'm praying that God will give me the tools (wisdom) that I need to accomplish these goals.
Blessed by chele at 12:13 PM | Permalink |
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Ho! Ho! Ho! Baby!
Saturday, December 17, 2005
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I'm feeling pretty festive today. I'm just in a really good mood. My house is quiet and I'm working on my second cup of coffee and I just feel very peaceful.
I'm actually going to finish my Christmas shopping today!
Gift cards for my two nieces and nephew
Wine and cheese basket for my boss
Holiday Scratchers (lottery tickets) for two coworkers
I still haven't decided if I'm getting anything for my ... I don't know what to call him ... boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, the guy I'm dating sometimes ... who the hell knows? I'll just call him "Buuud" (ala Rudy Huxtable). I'll probably wait until the last minute just in case he decides to act up.
My company Christmas party is tonight. I am not excited about that. I didn't even buy a new outfit. I love my job, but the folks there really like to get drunk and high-five each other all the time. Not really my scene but I've already been labeled the "anti-social Black chick in the corner" so I've decided to make an appearance. Buuuud has hired a car and we'll make an appearance for an hour or two.
I'm really excited about my new furniture arriving on Thursday. Just a little gift I got for myself. I figured out a long time ago that if you want nice gifts at Christmas you really have to buy them yourself! I bought a new living room set and I can't wait for it to get here. I bought this huge overstuffed chair and ottoman that I'm going to put right by the fireplace ... I can just see myself snuggling up in that chair and reading a good book ... it won't be facing the television so the kids will never sit in it ~she rubs her hands together and laughs like the evil genius that she is ... he he he ~ I feel like Archie Bunker when it comes to "my chair".
I spent last evening at a high school step show that my daughter was performing in. My ex-husband was there and we talked and laughed like we didn't have a care in the world. It's amazing to me that I can actually have a civil conversation with this man ... I've hated him for so long. I even bought him a few presents (from the kids). I'm such a friggin' grown up!
I hope you all have a blessed and safe Christmas. It falls on a Sunday this year -- will you all be in church? We're having one service at 9:00 a.m. My kids will be up at 5:00 ready to open their presents ... I don't know but I don't think the Pastor should count on seeing me. I'll try to make it for Watch Night Service.
I'm feeling pretty festive today. I'm just in a really good mood. My house is quiet and I'm working on my second cup of coffee and I just feel very peaceful.
I'm actually going to finish my Christmas shopping today!
Gift cards for my two nieces and nephew
Wine and cheese basket for my boss
Holiday Scratchers (lottery tickets) for two coworkers
I still haven't decided if I'm getting anything for my ... I don't know what to call him ... boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, the guy I'm dating sometimes ... who the hell knows? I'll just call him "Buuud" (ala Rudy Huxtable). I'll probably wait until the last minute just in case he decides to act up.
My company Christmas party is tonight. I am not excited about that. I didn't even buy a new outfit. I love my job, but the folks there really like to get drunk and high-five each other all the time. Not really my scene but I've already been labeled the "anti-social Black chick in the corner" so I've decided to make an appearance. Buuuud has hired a car and we'll make an appearance for an hour or two.
I'm really excited about my new furniture arriving on Thursday. Just a little gift I got for myself. I figured out a long time ago that if you want nice gifts at Christmas you really have to buy them yourself! I bought a new living room set and I can't wait for it to get here. I bought this huge overstuffed chair and ottoman that I'm going to put right by the fireplace ... I can just see myself snuggling up in that chair and reading a good book ... it won't be facing the television so the kids will never sit in it ~she rubs her hands together and laughs like the evil genius that she is ... he he he ~ I feel like Archie Bunker when it comes to "my chair".
I spent last evening at a high school step show that my daughter was performing in. My ex-husband was there and we talked and laughed like we didn't have a care in the world. It's amazing to me that I can actually have a civil conversation with this man ... I've hated him for so long. I even bought him a few presents (from the kids). I'm such a friggin' grown up!
I hope you all have a blessed and safe Christmas. It falls on a Sunday this year -- will you all be in church? We're having one service at 9:00 a.m. My kids will be up at 5:00 ready to open their presents ... I don't know but I don't think the Pastor should count on seeing me. I'll try to make it for Watch Night Service.
Coming Soon ... Resolutions for 2006
Blessed by chele at 9:09 AM | Permalink |
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Do you have to hear the words?
Thursday, December 15, 2005
******************
I grew up in a house with my mom and dad and six siblings. I can probably count the number of times I remember hearing my parents say, “I love you” on one hand. This is not a complaint – because there was plenty of love in my house – but an observation. My parents were not touchy-feely and I didn’t get tucked in or receive a kiss goodnight. Contrarily, my kids and I exchange I love you’s on a daily basis. I don’t tuck them in but we give hugs and kisses before bed almost every night.
I don’t think I was affected by not hearing it as a child but I was determined to make sure that I let my kids know at every given opportunity. I’m not saying I’m a better parent just a different one.
Does it matter? Do you have to hear the words in order to know that someone loves you?
I’ve learned in the church that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks so does that mean if we don’t say I love you that we don’t actually feel it in our hearts? I don’t think so. I have been in situations when a man has uttered those three little words and I knew he didn’t mean it. By the same token there were also times when I felt it so strongly but just couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
I remember when I was in my twenties and dating hearing those words for the first time was the highlight of the relationship. I’d get on the phone with my girls and scream, “He said it, girl. He loves me!” Now, twenty years later I can barely remember the names of those suitors or the circumstances under which they pledged their love. So, do the words really matter?
I’d like to believe that real love is unconditional and lasts forever. I’d like to believe it but I don’t think unconditional love exists with the exception of familial love. Maybe I’m wrong. I had a conversation with my best friend yesterday. He was totally pissed off at his wife of 14 years because she has been seriously mismanaging their money without his knowledge. When he confronted her, she lied to him. Now she no longer has access to any of the “joint” money and he took away all her credit cards. He directed her to open up an account of her own and fill it with the little money she makes doing home daycare. He told her that she was lucky that they both agreed before they got married that divorce was never an option. Is this an example of unconditional love?
That was interesting to me because I left my second husband because he lied to me about money (there’s more to the story but that’s the gist of it). In my mind, financial security was and is the most important thing to me. I don’t like being broke and have vowed never to be again. Lying is a deal breaker – lying about money is cause for an ass kicking of the worst kind.
Anyway, I’m off the subject: do you have to hear the words in order to know if someone loves you?
I think many of us get caught up in the words. I think they are over used and lose their meaning.
I truly believe that actions speak much louder than words. Not big actions either.
When my boyfriend took me to Pep Boys and replaced my windshield wipers, that says, “I love you”
When he stayed with my kids and me during Hurricane Isabel, that says, “I love you”
When he does yard work at my house and he doesn’t even live there, that says, “I love you”
When he got me a great deal on a new refrigerator and installed it even though he had a bad back, that says, “I love you”
When he shows real appreciation for a home cooked Sunday dinner (because my kids would rather eat cereal!), that says, “I love you”
When he promotes my book each time he gets a mic in his hand, that says, “I love you”
Then of course, there are the big actions:
Saying I love you with Godiva chocolates
Saying I love you with a limo and a $200 dinner
Calling the salon while I’m getting a facial to pay for my service without my knowledge
He ain’t perfect – far from it. And we probably won’t live happily ever after but I do know that he loves me and I know 20 years from now I will remember him – even if he never says the words.
I grew up in a house with my mom and dad and six siblings. I can probably count the number of times I remember hearing my parents say, “I love you” on one hand. This is not a complaint – because there was plenty of love in my house – but an observation. My parents were not touchy-feely and I didn’t get tucked in or receive a kiss goodnight. Contrarily, my kids and I exchange I love you’s on a daily basis. I don’t tuck them in but we give hugs and kisses before bed almost every night.
I don’t think I was affected by not hearing it as a child but I was determined to make sure that I let my kids know at every given opportunity. I’m not saying I’m a better parent just a different one.
Does it matter? Do you have to hear the words in order to know that someone loves you?
I’ve learned in the church that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks so does that mean if we don’t say I love you that we don’t actually feel it in our hearts? I don’t think so. I have been in situations when a man has uttered those three little words and I knew he didn’t mean it. By the same token there were also times when I felt it so strongly but just couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
I remember when I was in my twenties and dating hearing those words for the first time was the highlight of the relationship. I’d get on the phone with my girls and scream, “He said it, girl. He loves me!” Now, twenty years later I can barely remember the names of those suitors or the circumstances under which they pledged their love. So, do the words really matter?
I’d like to believe that real love is unconditional and lasts forever. I’d like to believe it but I don’t think unconditional love exists with the exception of familial love. Maybe I’m wrong. I had a conversation with my best friend yesterday. He was totally pissed off at his wife of 14 years because she has been seriously mismanaging their money without his knowledge. When he confronted her, she lied to him. Now she no longer has access to any of the “joint” money and he took away all her credit cards. He directed her to open up an account of her own and fill it with the little money she makes doing home daycare. He told her that she was lucky that they both agreed before they got married that divorce was never an option. Is this an example of unconditional love?
That was interesting to me because I left my second husband because he lied to me about money (there’s more to the story but that’s the gist of it). In my mind, financial security was and is the most important thing to me. I don’t like being broke and have vowed never to be again. Lying is a deal breaker – lying about money is cause for an ass kicking of the worst kind.
Anyway, I’m off the subject: do you have to hear the words in order to know if someone loves you?
I think many of us get caught up in the words. I think they are over used and lose their meaning.
I truly believe that actions speak much louder than words. Not big actions either.
When my boyfriend took me to Pep Boys and replaced my windshield wipers, that says, “I love you”
When he stayed with my kids and me during Hurricane Isabel, that says, “I love you”
When he does yard work at my house and he doesn’t even live there, that says, “I love you”
When he got me a great deal on a new refrigerator and installed it even though he had a bad back, that says, “I love you”
When he shows real appreciation for a home cooked Sunday dinner (because my kids would rather eat cereal!), that says, “I love you”
When he promotes my book each time he gets a mic in his hand, that says, “I love you”
Then of course, there are the big actions:
Saying I love you with Godiva chocolates
Saying I love you with a limo and a $200 dinner
Calling the salon while I’m getting a facial to pay for my service without my knowledge
He ain’t perfect – far from it. And we probably won’t live happily ever after but I do know that he loves me and I know 20 years from now I will remember him – even if he never says the words.
Blessed by chele at 3:30 PM | Permalink |
| Permalink |
Ah Yes ... The Bigamist
Monday, December 12, 2005
***********
I believe I may have mentioned in passing the reason for the demise of my first marriage: Bigamy.
I’ve never really given the details so I figure now would be as good a time as any. I met my first husband, I’ll call him Tony (because that’s his name – forget protecting the guilty) at a club in 1987. He appeared to be the only non-Black person in a predominantly Black nightclub so he stood out. Not to mention that he was 6’4” and could dance his behind off. Once I spotted him I literally could not take my eyes off him. He’s Puerto Rican with dark wavy hair and a thick moustache and he swaggered when he walked. I was hooked.
I asked my girlfriend V who he was and she said he was a friend of a friend. I made her get me an introduction and I would take it from there. What can I say ya’ll? I was 23 and fast as hell. I’m happy to say I am no longer that aggressive. Anyway, after the club closed everyone trekked down to the 24-hour store to pick up a 2-piece and see if any last minute hookups could be made. Tony came over to my car and we talked for a few minutes and exchanged numbers. He called about four days later and made a date for the following weekend.
I’m a little fuzzy on the details because this was so very long ago. I do remember that once we became ~intimate~ he was spending nights at my apartment on a regular basis. I made it a habit of unplugging my phone when I had male company. Well, one morning after an evening together, there was a knock at my door bright and early. I looked out my window and to my surprise it was my mother! Now, I was grown and living on my own but I still didn’t want my mother knowing that I let men spend the night with me. I knew that she must have tried to call but couldn’t get through because I had the phone unplugged. I let her in and introduced her to Tony. Talk about awkward moments! She was trying to reach me because my grandmother had died and she was on her way to New Jersey and she wanted to let me know. I immediately got myself together and told her that I would go with her. Mom made a few phone calls while she waited for me to pack and Tony sat there looking crazy not knowing what to do. Finally, I told him that I would call him when I got back and I hit the road with my mom.
One detail that I do remember about Tony was that while my family was in New Jersey for my grandmother’s funeral he sent flowers. I had no idea how he knew where to send them. He later said that he overhead my mom on the phone giving the information to someone else and he made a note of it.
That is probably the only positive thing that I will say about him for the rest of this post.
Tony was a pathological liar. He lied about everything: his name (told me it was Antonio), his age (told me he was a year older than he was), father (told me that he was dead) and most importantly his marital status (he told me he was divorced).
Very early in our relationship he told me straight out, “I can never marry you.”
My reply: “Who asked you?”
His response, “I was just saying … you know because you’re not Catholic.”
My reply, “Again, who asked you?”
Well time passes and we get closer and he’s getting in good with my family and I’ve met his family. All is good in the hood. Our relationship isn’t perfect but it works. After more than a year he starts dropping hints about us spending our lives together and all that. I’m young, dumb and in love so I’m going along with the okey-doke and when he slipped a ring on my finger and asked for my hand I accepted.
I’m embarrassed to say how many red flags I ignored during our engagement:
--He lied on our marriage license saying that he had no previous marriages.
--When visiting his family his sister said, “How can you get married when you and D aren’t divorced?” Of course, he shut her up real quick by saying that they had gotten divorced a long time ago.
--My mom told me that if I didn’t want to go through with the wedding that I could back out (Mama always knows).
Finally, something told me to ask him to produce a divorce decree. He was in the military so they must have had a copy in his personnel file, right? That’s what I thought. He kept putting me off and giving me these excuses as to why he didn’t have one. Fine. I gave him an ultimatum: show me the divorce decree or we’re through. A week later, I picked him up from work and as I’m driving he hands me a form, which said “Divorce Decree” (or something like that) across the top. I’m driving and reading at the same time, so needless to say I didn’t get a real good look at what I was looking at. After a few minutes, he snatches it out of my hand and says, “Are you happy now?” He then proceeds to crumble up the piece of paper and throws it out the window!
All I can say is, I must have really been dumb and desperate and wanting to get married because I moved forward with our plans and we walked down the aisle on September 16, 1989. None of his family was present. Maybe I didn’t want to go through the humiliation of calling off the wedding. Maybe I really wanted to believe him. I don’t know what the hell my problem was. Little did I know, my problems were only just beginning.
For those of you that know anything about the military, once we were married I was supposed to receive a military identification card. I didn’t know how much time had to pass before I could get one so I left it up to him to take care of.
October 1989 came and went and I still don’t have an ID. I’ve changed my name on my license, my checks and my SSN card and I’m still waiting for my ID. Well, in November I got pregnant so now I’m really getting antsy because I need the ID for my doctor’s appointments, etc. and he keeps blowing me off about getting the ID. It’s December now and still nothing. It’s January 1990 and I have had enough. Once again I give him an ultimatum: either take me to get my ID or I’m going to the Base my damn self to get it!
Here is where he comes clean. There’s a problem, he says. Um … something happened with my divorce from D … um … we’re still married.
What the hell?
I knew he was a liar and he had been lying to me since 1987 but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost it. I completely lost it. There was no way in the world that he could convince me that he actually THOUGHT he was divorced when he wasn’t. You don’t make mistakes like that. What motivates a person to do something like that? I never pressed him to get married. I never even brought it up. I can look back at it now and be very unemotional but there was a time when my pressure would go up every time I thought about that POS. I promptly kicked his ass out of the house.
His response: “What about the baby?”
My reply: “What about the baby?” with hands on hips and neck rolling.
February 1990 I was granted an annullment and in July 1990 my son was born. Tony made a few attempts to come back into our lives but I couldn’t get past what happened. Soon those attempts stopped and neither me nor my son have seen or heard from him in more than fourteen years.
Tony obviously changed my life. Since it all happened while I was pregnant I chose to focus on my pregnancy and I buried that pain way down deep and never dealt with it. I never grieved that relationship. I carried that hurt around for many years. Unfortunately, I carried it right into my second marriage. It was those unresolved issues that ultimately led to the failure of my second marriage. As a result I can’t say that I really trust anyone. Which sucks because I know that I'm not supposed to allow my past to dictate my present or future. I'm getting better.
The good news is I recently let go of the feeling that I could actually kill his ass.
I believe I may have mentioned in passing the reason for the demise of my first marriage: Bigamy.
I’ve never really given the details so I figure now would be as good a time as any. I met my first husband, I’ll call him Tony (because that’s his name – forget protecting the guilty) at a club in 1987. He appeared to be the only non-Black person in a predominantly Black nightclub so he stood out. Not to mention that he was 6’4” and could dance his behind off. Once I spotted him I literally could not take my eyes off him. He’s Puerto Rican with dark wavy hair and a thick moustache and he swaggered when he walked. I was hooked.
I asked my girlfriend V who he was and she said he was a friend of a friend. I made her get me an introduction and I would take it from there. What can I say ya’ll? I was 23 and fast as hell. I’m happy to say I am no longer that aggressive. Anyway, after the club closed everyone trekked down to the 24-hour store to pick up a 2-piece and see if any last minute hookups could be made. Tony came over to my car and we talked for a few minutes and exchanged numbers. He called about four days later and made a date for the following weekend.
I’m a little fuzzy on the details because this was so very long ago. I do remember that once we became ~intimate~ he was spending nights at my apartment on a regular basis. I made it a habit of unplugging my phone when I had male company. Well, one morning after an evening together, there was a knock at my door bright and early. I looked out my window and to my surprise it was my mother! Now, I was grown and living on my own but I still didn’t want my mother knowing that I let men spend the night with me. I knew that she must have tried to call but couldn’t get through because I had the phone unplugged. I let her in and introduced her to Tony. Talk about awkward moments! She was trying to reach me because my grandmother had died and she was on her way to New Jersey and she wanted to let me know. I immediately got myself together and told her that I would go with her. Mom made a few phone calls while she waited for me to pack and Tony sat there looking crazy not knowing what to do. Finally, I told him that I would call him when I got back and I hit the road with my mom.
One detail that I do remember about Tony was that while my family was in New Jersey for my grandmother’s funeral he sent flowers. I had no idea how he knew where to send them. He later said that he overhead my mom on the phone giving the information to someone else and he made a note of it.
That is probably the only positive thing that I will say about him for the rest of this post.
Tony was a pathological liar. He lied about everything: his name (told me it was Antonio), his age (told me he was a year older than he was), father (told me that he was dead) and most importantly his marital status (he told me he was divorced).
Very early in our relationship he told me straight out, “I can never marry you.”
My reply: “Who asked you?”
His response, “I was just saying … you know because you’re not Catholic.”
My reply, “Again, who asked you?”
Well time passes and we get closer and he’s getting in good with my family and I’ve met his family. All is good in the hood. Our relationship isn’t perfect but it works. After more than a year he starts dropping hints about us spending our lives together and all that. I’m young, dumb and in love so I’m going along with the okey-doke and when he slipped a ring on my finger and asked for my hand I accepted.
I’m embarrassed to say how many red flags I ignored during our engagement:
--He lied on our marriage license saying that he had no previous marriages.
--When visiting his family his sister said, “How can you get married when you and D aren’t divorced?” Of course, he shut her up real quick by saying that they had gotten divorced a long time ago.
--My mom told me that if I didn’t want to go through with the wedding that I could back out (Mama always knows).
Finally, something told me to ask him to produce a divorce decree. He was in the military so they must have had a copy in his personnel file, right? That’s what I thought. He kept putting me off and giving me these excuses as to why he didn’t have one. Fine. I gave him an ultimatum: show me the divorce decree or we’re through. A week later, I picked him up from work and as I’m driving he hands me a form, which said “Divorce Decree” (or something like that) across the top. I’m driving and reading at the same time, so needless to say I didn’t get a real good look at what I was looking at. After a few minutes, he snatches it out of my hand and says, “Are you happy now?” He then proceeds to crumble up the piece of paper and throws it out the window!
All I can say is, I must have really been dumb and desperate and wanting to get married because I moved forward with our plans and we walked down the aisle on September 16, 1989. None of his family was present. Maybe I didn’t want to go through the humiliation of calling off the wedding. Maybe I really wanted to believe him. I don’t know what the hell my problem was. Little did I know, my problems were only just beginning.
For those of you that know anything about the military, once we were married I was supposed to receive a military identification card. I didn’t know how much time had to pass before I could get one so I left it up to him to take care of.
October 1989 came and went and I still don’t have an ID. I’ve changed my name on my license, my checks and my SSN card and I’m still waiting for my ID. Well, in November I got pregnant so now I’m really getting antsy because I need the ID for my doctor’s appointments, etc. and he keeps blowing me off about getting the ID. It’s December now and still nothing. It’s January 1990 and I have had enough. Once again I give him an ultimatum: either take me to get my ID or I’m going to the Base my damn self to get it!
Here is where he comes clean. There’s a problem, he says. Um … something happened with my divorce from D … um … we’re still married.
What the hell?
I knew he was a liar and he had been lying to me since 1987 but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost it. I completely lost it. There was no way in the world that he could convince me that he actually THOUGHT he was divorced when he wasn’t. You don’t make mistakes like that. What motivates a person to do something like that? I never pressed him to get married. I never even brought it up. I can look back at it now and be very unemotional but there was a time when my pressure would go up every time I thought about that POS. I promptly kicked his ass out of the house.
His response: “What about the baby?”
My reply: “What about the baby?” with hands on hips and neck rolling.
February 1990 I was granted an annullment and in July 1990 my son was born. Tony made a few attempts to come back into our lives but I couldn’t get past what happened. Soon those attempts stopped and neither me nor my son have seen or heard from him in more than fourteen years.
Tony obviously changed my life. Since it all happened while I was pregnant I chose to focus on my pregnancy and I buried that pain way down deep and never dealt with it. I never grieved that relationship. I carried that hurt around for many years. Unfortunately, I carried it right into my second marriage. It was those unresolved issues that ultimately led to the failure of my second marriage. As a result I can’t say that I really trust anyone. Which sucks because I know that I'm not supposed to allow my past to dictate my present or future. I'm getting better.
The good news is I recently let go of the feeling that I could actually kill his ass.
Blessed by chele at 4:23 PM | Permalink |
| Permalink |
Reason and Passion Revisited
Friday, December 09, 2005
****************
A while back I submitted a post about Khalil Gibran’s views on Reason and Passion and how the two always seem to be at war.
I thought the following was an interesting spin on the idea of Reason and Passion.
I can’t look at pictures of my kids for long periods of time without tearing up. Don’t laugh – I know I sound like a big mush but I can’t help it. They are absolutely gorgeous people and I get overwhelmed when I think about them for too long. I sit in amazement sometimes because I can’t believe that God allowed me to bring these two into the world. It’s a privilege to raise them. Seriously.
It also amazes me that two people can live under one roof with the same rules and the same influence (me) and be so totally different from each other. I have renamed my children REASON and PASSION because they are so different and they are constantly at war with each other. But like Gibran says, one can’t survive without the other. They don’t know that yet but I believe in time they will figure it out.
My son J is my REASONABLE child. He was conceived in a very REASONABLE and organized fashion. I was married to my first husband for a few weeks when I decided that we were going to get pregnant. I didn’t know anything about watching a calendar or taking my temperature … I thought we had to have sex at every given opportunity so we could have a baby. Not that I had to twist his arm but we did it all the time for the sole purpose of conceiving a child. I remember some nights right afterward I would lay in the bed with my legs in the air just to make sure that his swimmers were going in the right direction.
I got pregnant right away and I was thrilled. Unfortunately, a month after I found out I was pregnant I also found out that my husband was still married to his first wife. I was young and hot-headed so I promptly kicked his ass out of my house and out of my life.
I moved forward with my pregnancy reading every piece of literature that was ever written regarding motherhood. I did all the right things including giving up salt (which I love) and drinking milk everyday (which I hate). I didn’t gain too much weight and in my mind I was the most beautiful pregnant woman that ever walked the face of the earth. Seriously.
Even my labor and delivery was REASONABLE. Even though I delivered four weeks prior to my scheduled due date, J weighed in at a healthy 6 lbs. 1 oz. I was in labor for a while before going to the hospital but once I got there he arrived about five hours later. I delivered him without any drugs … I kept waiting for the pain to become unbearable but it never reached that point. (Don’t hate!)
Since J’s birth he has continued to follow that path of REASON. He thinks everything over before he makes a move. He doesn’t like to take chances and he doesn’t really get excited about anything. He’s very passive and just sort of goes with the flow. I told him a long time ago that lying to me was a waste of time because I would always find out. He still believes that. I remember over the summer he went to a concert to see 50 Cent. He told me that as he was walking out of the amphitheater there was a guy at the exit door handing stuff out. J reached for what was being given and to his surprise it was a condom. He brought it home and gave it to me. He’s fifteen years old and we have had “the talk”. His older-by-three-years cousin is his idol and when he slipped up and got his girlfriend pregnant I told J that I was thinking about buying him condoms -- just in case. He told me that he was disappointed in his cousin and that he wouldn’t do something like that and fifteen is too young to be thinking about having sex. Seriously.
My daughter K is my PASSIONATE child. Her conception was far from reasonable. My second husband and I were madly in love and we could not get enough of each other. I wasn’t on birth control and he was in charge of keeping track of the “safe” times to have sex. I know how dumb that sounds. Anyway, K was conceived using the rhythm method, much like myself … we had planned to have children of our own just not that soon. I think we were married four months before I got pregnant with K.
I was sick everyday for three months during this pregnancy. I gained weight everywhere. I ate what I wanted and did what I wanted. I was a cow – I didn’t glow and I wasn’t pretty. I was sad during that pregnancy. My husband was at sea and it was questionable as to whether or not he’d make it home for the birth. Not to mention I was living in a new city and I didn’t know anybody. I recruited my day care provider to accompany me in the delivery room in case hubby couldn’t be there.
Well, he couldn’t be there. I went into labor and once it started my PASSIONATE child was not letting up. Once she decided she was coming there was no stopping her. She arrived thirty minutes after I got to the hospital. Again, I had no drugs – not because I didn’t want them, there was just no time. Imagine a thirty-minute long contraction. It was not pretty.
K is still extremely PASSIONATE. She wants to experience everything. She signs up for all the activities at school and is quite the social butterfly. Last year she took a hip-hop dance class, a ballet class and was a peer tutor, all while maintaining a B average. She over reacts to most situations and she cries very easily. She's a drama queen. She does NOT believe that I know everything or that I will find out when she lies – however I have proven her wrong several times. I told her that she couldn’t wear makeup until she was 13. Well, this child leaves for school after me and gets home before me. She decides that she will be slick and put on some eyeliner and lip gloss everyday. One problem: she forgot to wash her face before I got home. And even though I caught her in the act that did not stop her from continuing to do it. Her philosophy: I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.
So I can’t help but wonder, do their personalities have less to do with how I’m raising them and more to do with how they were conceived?
Does that make sense? For example, I look at me and my two sisters: My oldest sister was conceived after my mom ran away and got married against my grandmother’s wishes. My sister was a wild child and began running away from home at the age of 11. She is now 46 and just recently “found herself”. I was conceived after my mom had an affair with a married man. Suffice it to say, my life has followed a pattern that is consistent with that. My younger sister was conceived after my mom settled down with my stepfather and lived happily ever after. My younger sister has been happily married for 17 years and has three children. I think there’s something to this.
So here I am living with REASON and PASSION. They fight with each other and make it a habit of trying to convince me that one of them is more necessary than the other. I wish some of J’s REASON would rub off onto K and I wish some of K’s PASSION would rub off onto J. Much like the REASON and PASSION that I discussed in the previous post, REASON usually speaks in whispers and PASSION screams at the top of her lungs.
Life at my house is nothing if not interesting.
A while back I submitted a post about Khalil Gibran’s views on Reason and Passion and how the two always seem to be at war.
I thought the following was an interesting spin on the idea of Reason and Passion.
I can’t look at pictures of my kids for long periods of time without tearing up. Don’t laugh – I know I sound like a big mush but I can’t help it. They are absolutely gorgeous people and I get overwhelmed when I think about them for too long. I sit in amazement sometimes because I can’t believe that God allowed me to bring these two into the world. It’s a privilege to raise them. Seriously.
It also amazes me that two people can live under one roof with the same rules and the same influence (me) and be so totally different from each other. I have renamed my children REASON and PASSION because they are so different and they are constantly at war with each other. But like Gibran says, one can’t survive without the other. They don’t know that yet but I believe in time they will figure it out.
My son J is my REASONABLE child. He was conceived in a very REASONABLE and organized fashion. I was married to my first husband for a few weeks when I decided that we were going to get pregnant. I didn’t know anything about watching a calendar or taking my temperature … I thought we had to have sex at every given opportunity so we could have a baby. Not that I had to twist his arm but we did it all the time for the sole purpose of conceiving a child. I remember some nights right afterward I would lay in the bed with my legs in the air just to make sure that his swimmers were going in the right direction.
I got pregnant right away and I was thrilled. Unfortunately, a month after I found out I was pregnant I also found out that my husband was still married to his first wife. I was young and hot-headed so I promptly kicked his ass out of my house and out of my life.
I moved forward with my pregnancy reading every piece of literature that was ever written regarding motherhood. I did all the right things including giving up salt (which I love) and drinking milk everyday (which I hate). I didn’t gain too much weight and in my mind I was the most beautiful pregnant woman that ever walked the face of the earth. Seriously.
Even my labor and delivery was REASONABLE. Even though I delivered four weeks prior to my scheduled due date, J weighed in at a healthy 6 lbs. 1 oz. I was in labor for a while before going to the hospital but once I got there he arrived about five hours later. I delivered him without any drugs … I kept waiting for the pain to become unbearable but it never reached that point. (Don’t hate!)
Since J’s birth he has continued to follow that path of REASON. He thinks everything over before he makes a move. He doesn’t like to take chances and he doesn’t really get excited about anything. He’s very passive and just sort of goes with the flow. I told him a long time ago that lying to me was a waste of time because I would always find out. He still believes that. I remember over the summer he went to a concert to see 50 Cent. He told me that as he was walking out of the amphitheater there was a guy at the exit door handing stuff out. J reached for what was being given and to his surprise it was a condom. He brought it home and gave it to me. He’s fifteen years old and we have had “the talk”. His older-by-three-years cousin is his idol and when he slipped up and got his girlfriend pregnant I told J that I was thinking about buying him condoms -- just in case. He told me that he was disappointed in his cousin and that he wouldn’t do something like that and fifteen is too young to be thinking about having sex. Seriously.
My daughter K is my PASSIONATE child. Her conception was far from reasonable. My second husband and I were madly in love and we could not get enough of each other. I wasn’t on birth control and he was in charge of keeping track of the “safe” times to have sex. I know how dumb that sounds. Anyway, K was conceived using the rhythm method, much like myself … we had planned to have children of our own just not that soon. I think we were married four months before I got pregnant with K.
I was sick everyday for three months during this pregnancy. I gained weight everywhere. I ate what I wanted and did what I wanted. I was a cow – I didn’t glow and I wasn’t pretty. I was sad during that pregnancy. My husband was at sea and it was questionable as to whether or not he’d make it home for the birth. Not to mention I was living in a new city and I didn’t know anybody. I recruited my day care provider to accompany me in the delivery room in case hubby couldn’t be there.
Well, he couldn’t be there. I went into labor and once it started my PASSIONATE child was not letting up. Once she decided she was coming there was no stopping her. She arrived thirty minutes after I got to the hospital. Again, I had no drugs – not because I didn’t want them, there was just no time. Imagine a thirty-minute long contraction. It was not pretty.
K is still extremely PASSIONATE. She wants to experience everything. She signs up for all the activities at school and is quite the social butterfly. Last year she took a hip-hop dance class, a ballet class and was a peer tutor, all while maintaining a B average. She over reacts to most situations and she cries very easily. She's a drama queen. She does NOT believe that I know everything or that I will find out when she lies – however I have proven her wrong several times. I told her that she couldn’t wear makeup until she was 13. Well, this child leaves for school after me and gets home before me. She decides that she will be slick and put on some eyeliner and lip gloss everyday. One problem: she forgot to wash her face before I got home. And even though I caught her in the act that did not stop her from continuing to do it. Her philosophy: I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.
So I can’t help but wonder, do their personalities have less to do with how I’m raising them and more to do with how they were conceived?
Does that make sense? For example, I look at me and my two sisters: My oldest sister was conceived after my mom ran away and got married against my grandmother’s wishes. My sister was a wild child and began running away from home at the age of 11. She is now 46 and just recently “found herself”. I was conceived after my mom had an affair with a married man. Suffice it to say, my life has followed a pattern that is consistent with that. My younger sister was conceived after my mom settled down with my stepfather and lived happily ever after. My younger sister has been happily married for 17 years and has three children. I think there’s something to this.
So here I am living with REASON and PASSION. They fight with each other and make it a habit of trying to convince me that one of them is more necessary than the other. I wish some of J’s REASON would rub off onto K and I wish some of K’s PASSION would rub off onto J. Much like the REASON and PASSION that I discussed in the previous post, REASON usually speaks in whispers and PASSION screams at the top of her lungs.
Life at my house is nothing if not interesting.
Blessed by chele at 3:25 PM | Permalink |
| Permalink |
Today's Mail
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Well, I received the following in the mail today:
Dear Ms. Chele:
The result of your mammogram performed on 11/15/05 shows a finding in your breast that needs to be looked at further. This is not uncommon. In many cases, study of such findings shows that there is nothing to worry about.
We would like for you to have an ultrasound examination.
Blessed by chele at 10:37 PM | Permalink |
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It's Awfully Bright In Here
Friday, December 02, 2005
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Oprah talks a lot about having “A-Ha” moments. Well, I recently had one.
My spiritual gift is exhortation. Simply put, exhortation is the ability to help others reach their full potential by means of encouraging, challenging, comforting and guiding. I’m great at it. So good, in fact, that I often neglect the process of reaching my own potential in order to help others reach theirs.
In any relationship I put myself in the position of cheerleader. It is so easy for me to pick out the great qualities that someone else has. However, since my temperament is that of choleric, I become very agitated when I have to spend a lot of time convincing you of how great you are. You should already know that! In other words, I’ll encourage you but not in a nice way – get the picture? I’m very fond of the concept of tough love.
It shouldn’t come as any surprise that I have a difficult time being my own cheerleader. Don’t get it twisted – I do not suffer from low self-esteem, negative self-image or any of that stuff. Trust me when I tell you: I LOVE ME. I just get so caught up with other people’s stuff that I put my stuff on the back burner.
For the past two plus years I have been involved with a musician. I can tell ya’ll that I truly love him. However, because of our current situation I can’t tell him but I trust that the information won’t leave this blog. He has aspirations of leaving his full time gig and working in the music/entertainment industry on a full time basis. He performs and teaches music and I have told him repeatedly that there is no reason in the world why he couldn’t go forward with his dream. He’s a little insecure and probably scared because this would be a life altering decision for him but I know he can do it. He is so talented and the first time that I heard him play the guitar I was amazed. You can see the passion on his face when he’s playing that damn thing – it’s like he’s making love to it. Do you sense a twinge of jealousy in my voice? I used to be bothered about coming in second to a guitar but I’ve learned to accept it.
In any case, during the past two years I handled his advertising and the mailing list, I was at every gig and I even performed with him on occasion. I am a music lover so all of this was fun to me and I thought that my involvement would make our relationship stronger. I enjoyed all the time that we spent together doing something that we both loved.
There was one problem.
We both love music but it is NOT my passion. He could not live without music. It’s not a hobby for him and it was for me. I was using music to strengthen our relationship and (for lack of a better term) he was using me to strengthen the music. Does that make sense?
So when our relationship came crashing down around my ears I was left with nothing to do. No more gigs, no more singing, no more nothing … I tried to remember what I did with myself before we started dating. Before I made myself a part of his dream, what the hell was my dream?
Well, the status of our relationship is still up in the air. We go out every now and then and we talk everyday but it’s nothing like it used to be. I cannot throw myself back into his life. I’m keeping my distance for the most part for fear of losing myself again.
I’ve been feeling so unsettled for the past month or so. Not knowing what to do with myself. Initially, I thought this feeling was because I was in relationship limbo. So I asked myself a few questions: What do you want from him? Nothing. Do you want to get married, or something? Hell no. What more can he possibly give you? Nothing.
Then it dawned on me … I thought that I was feeling so unsettled because of something that I wasn’t getting from him. As it turns out, I was feeling unsettled because of something that I wasn’t giving MYSELF. How many times have I told people that no one else is responsible for your happiness – that you have to look to yourself for fulfillment and happiness? Repeatedly. Now I had to tell myself that same thing.
I am a writer dammit! That’s what my dream was. When we met I was finishing the final edits on my novel and was preparing to release the final publication. During the two years that we dated I had not written one thing of substance, except an article featuring him in a music magazine, a few poems maybe, some CD reviews and entries in this blog (which I only started in June).
So the lights have finally come on and it’s awfully bright in here.
When I wrote my first novel, Raymond’s Daughters, I adopted the routine of getting up early in the morning to write before I got the kids up for school and myself ready for work. This morning was the first morning that I got up and went back to that routine. It felt good. I wrote for an hour and I was reluctant to stop at 6:00 a.m. I wanted to keep going. That’s a good sign.
So, I’m not going to make some proclamation that I’ll continue this routine but I will make the effort. I want to make the effort.
And that’s a step in the right direction.
Oprah talks a lot about having “A-Ha” moments. Well, I recently had one.
My spiritual gift is exhortation. Simply put, exhortation is the ability to help others reach their full potential by means of encouraging, challenging, comforting and guiding. I’m great at it. So good, in fact, that I often neglect the process of reaching my own potential in order to help others reach theirs.
In any relationship I put myself in the position of cheerleader. It is so easy for me to pick out the great qualities that someone else has. However, since my temperament is that of choleric, I become very agitated when I have to spend a lot of time convincing you of how great you are. You should already know that! In other words, I’ll encourage you but not in a nice way – get the picture? I’m very fond of the concept of tough love.
It shouldn’t come as any surprise that I have a difficult time being my own cheerleader. Don’t get it twisted – I do not suffer from low self-esteem, negative self-image or any of that stuff. Trust me when I tell you: I LOVE ME. I just get so caught up with other people’s stuff that I put my stuff on the back burner.
For the past two plus years I have been involved with a musician. I can tell ya’ll that I truly love him. However, because of our current situation I can’t tell him but I trust that the information won’t leave this blog. He has aspirations of leaving his full time gig and working in the music/entertainment industry on a full time basis. He performs and teaches music and I have told him repeatedly that there is no reason in the world why he couldn’t go forward with his dream. He’s a little insecure and probably scared because this would be a life altering decision for him but I know he can do it. He is so talented and the first time that I heard him play the guitar I was amazed. You can see the passion on his face when he’s playing that damn thing – it’s like he’s making love to it. Do you sense a twinge of jealousy in my voice? I used to be bothered about coming in second to a guitar but I’ve learned to accept it.
In any case, during the past two years I handled his advertising and the mailing list, I was at every gig and I even performed with him on occasion. I am a music lover so all of this was fun to me and I thought that my involvement would make our relationship stronger. I enjoyed all the time that we spent together doing something that we both loved.
There was one problem.
We both love music but it is NOT my passion. He could not live without music. It’s not a hobby for him and it was for me. I was using music to strengthen our relationship and (for lack of a better term) he was using me to strengthen the music. Does that make sense?
So when our relationship came crashing down around my ears I was left with nothing to do. No more gigs, no more singing, no more nothing … I tried to remember what I did with myself before we started dating. Before I made myself a part of his dream, what the hell was my dream?
Well, the status of our relationship is still up in the air. We go out every now and then and we talk everyday but it’s nothing like it used to be. I cannot throw myself back into his life. I’m keeping my distance for the most part for fear of losing myself again.
I’ve been feeling so unsettled for the past month or so. Not knowing what to do with myself. Initially, I thought this feeling was because I was in relationship limbo. So I asked myself a few questions: What do you want from him? Nothing. Do you want to get married, or something? Hell no. What more can he possibly give you? Nothing.
Then it dawned on me … I thought that I was feeling so unsettled because of something that I wasn’t getting from him. As it turns out, I was feeling unsettled because of something that I wasn’t giving MYSELF. How many times have I told people that no one else is responsible for your happiness – that you have to look to yourself for fulfillment and happiness? Repeatedly. Now I had to tell myself that same thing.
I am a writer dammit! That’s what my dream was. When we met I was finishing the final edits on my novel and was preparing to release the final publication. During the two years that we dated I had not written one thing of substance, except an article featuring him in a music magazine, a few poems maybe, some CD reviews and entries in this blog (which I only started in June).
So the lights have finally come on and it’s awfully bright in here.
When I wrote my first novel, Raymond’s Daughters, I adopted the routine of getting up early in the morning to write before I got the kids up for school and myself ready for work. This morning was the first morning that I got up and went back to that routine. It felt good. I wrote for an hour and I was reluctant to stop at 6:00 a.m. I wanted to keep going. That’s a good sign.
So, I’m not going to make some proclamation that I’ll continue this routine but I will make the effort. I want to make the effort.
And that’s a step in the right direction.
Blessed by chele at 11:03 AM | Permalink |
| Permalink |