“Why Nick? Why? It has been nine months, nine freakin months without a word from you, without a call, not even an email or text message. Nine months, and now, now here in this coffee shop, you want to talk. Now after nine months you come up to me just as if time had not passed, like I just dropped you off at your house yesterday and we parted ways with a “see ya later”. Nine months Nick, nine months, and all you have to say to me is “How are you doing?” I mean who are you, Joey from Friends?? Nine months! And….. you do not even like this coffee, why are you here?”

I am frazzled, I am mad, I have questions that I want answered yet…… I cannot stand the sight of him right now. My day of last minute Christmas shopping, enjoying good coffee, Christmas carols,Santa at the mall,all of that is ruined. I cannot even think straight,I need to sit down, yet I wont dare give him the pleasure. Oh no, if we are to have this conversation now, I will remain calm, no matter how mad I am, and I am livid……and hurt, I will not let him see my hurt.

Nick, a ghost from my past, the one person who I mistakenly thought I would marry, we were in business together, we did everything together, and not in that annoying attached at the hip kind of way, more of like, this person makes me want to do better kind of way. Nick. Well, Nick still looks like Nick. His dark hair is a little bit longer, still in need of a shave, eyes that would put an emerald to shame. An air of confidence about him, which at this point, I really do not need to see, I will take whatever confidence he has and smash it. I am that mad! I can handle this, I can do this. I will be calm.

“I wanted hot chocolate”

What the hell is he talking about? Is he really talking about hot chocolate now?

“Huh?”

“I wanted hot chocolate, I was on my way to Mulligans,you remember, the usual steak and scotch, they still have the Sunday special, and I was walking along, remembered this place and…..we…. I just wanted some hot chocolate first”

“Oh for god-sakes Nick, I do not mean why are you here, in the coffee shop, I mean why are you here in WA? You’re suppose to be in Chicago, at least nine months ago you were suppose to be in Chicago, but you know, a lot changes in nine months, so for all I know you were only in Chicago for a month or so and then came back…..I don’t know Nick, help me out. Why are you here…in WA state?”

Why is he so calm, why is he not as put off as I am? Does he not see how intense this situation is? He left WA, he left me nine months ago, with the promise that he would call as soon as he could. He never called, never. Never a letter, never a simple email, nothing, nothing, nothing…..and here he is talking about hot chocolate?!?!

“Look, I know you’re mad, I had planned this a little differently in my head, you have to understand, I had just lost mom. I had to settle her estate,I had to tie up loose ends,I know I should have called,I wanted to call, but I couldn’t, there is so much I need to tell you, there is so much I do not even know where to begin, kinda thrown off track here”

“Really Nick? You are thrown off track? And why is that? Did you forget my number? Did you forget the restaurants number? Was I just a game to you? Are you just grasping for something right now because I am the last person you expected to run into? What,answer me dammit…. I deserve something more than an “I had to tie up loose ends”

I can feel my adrenaline going. I have played this very conversation in my head for the past 8 months, never fully expecting it to take place, and surely not here in the coffee shop one week before Christmas. Now, I cannot even think. I feel as if I have seen a ghost, a ghost who is standing right in front of me waiting on some freakin hot chocolate. A ghost who is as calm as can be. Why did he not give me a hug? After everything, would a hug not have been sufficient? Of course I would have pushed him away, but that’s not the point. I wanted to see the effort, I wanted to see emotion, and I do not care one single bit that Nick is not good with emotions, get over it.

“Look, can we go somewhere a little more private to talk? It will be easier to explain things once you have calmed down”

My mouth dropped….. Once I calm down? Did he really just say once I calm down? Okay, am I being punked, am I in the Twilight Zone? I look around at the few tables filled with patrons. Some are looking, some are pretending not to notice the yelling from the crazy girl in the corner. Frank Sinatra’s “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” is playing in the background, ironic in a weird kind of way. The coffee shop is beautifully decorated. Red and gold Christmas trees, clear Christmas lights, and he we are….. Here we are.

“Look Nick, right now, I do not feel like going any damn place with you. Oh you better believe I have questions, and I want my answers. You owe it to me, after everything, after everything we have been through, I deserved more than…more than nothing. And now nine months later here we are and you’re making me sound like I am some damn Hallmark card in the middle of the coffee shop. You have this blazay attitude and meanwhile I am thinking to myself, what the hell is going on. This is not fair. You hurt me and you hurt me bad. And it took awhile to get over that kind of hurt, but I did. Slowly, but I did. I felt it was me, I blamed myself, so now you cannot just expect me to drop everything so we can go talk in private. Say what you have to say now, own it.”

Yes, my voice was an octave or two louder than it probably should have been in such a small setting, yes, I knew what was about to happen any second now, yes, I’m going to have to apologize to Mr. Rossi in the morning, assuming I am still allowed in his shop, and yes, I realize that I can very well be making a fool out of myself, but none of that mattered, not now.

“Dammit Gina! Do you think it was so easy for me back home? I had to bury my mother. Do you get that, I had to bury my mother! She was sick, I had to care for her, I had to bathe her, I had to change her, I had to pack everything up, the cancer spread to her brain, have you ever seen what cancer does to a person? Well I hope you don’t. Hospice came in, it was not good and it messed me up, messed me up bad. Yeah I should have called, I wanted to call, but I was broken, and I needed to heal and forgive me, but the last thing on my mind was making a phone call only to hear more excuses of why you did not want to get married. I know you needed me, but I needed you too and you failed me Gina, I may have failed you, but you failed me too. All I asked of you was to trust me that I would call when it was right,I am sorry it took me longer that we had planned, I am sorry, Jesus Christ Gina, it is not always about you!”

I felt the tears coming, I tried to do everything I could to hold them back. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry. I do not want to cry anymore,I just want to move on. I am drained.

And then, just like I was expecting, but had forgotten about, I felt a hand on the small off my back. I did not even need to turn around.

“Everything alright over here”

I nodded my head, the words would not come out. I was frozen, I was stuck, stuck between the past and present. Nick did not take his eyes of me.

“Yeah man we’re fine”

and now it was time.

“Nick, this is Jack, my fiance.”

This was a fictional piece (or was it??) from a writing prompt from The Red Dress Club,Red Writing Hood. Our task, to write a piece about a fight. This is my first time writing a fictional piece and sharing it publicly. I’m ready for it….critique me!

I was in the 8th grade. I was shy, had maybe one friend, and was not even smart.

It would have been one thing if I was some kind of girl wonder in the brain department, and that’s the reason why I had no friends, because I was so amazingly intimidating…but that was not the case.

I was a little on the chubby side, unusually shy, and as I said earlier, only had one friend.

However, I still liked boys…specifically this one boy who would always try to copy my notes in English class. I told him time and time again that I was not smart, he would be better off copying from Jeffery, who sat on his left side, but no, he always wanted to copy my notes.

Okay, I warned him.

David was extremely tall for an 8th grader. I would put him right at 6ft, and, I would also call him a prep. So not my type now, but back then, yes.

I mean he never even talked to me, and looking back, there were cuter guys. Maybe it was the whole him wanting to copy my notes thing.

So anyway….I liked David. Now, in my Science class, Beth (my one friend) and I would talk about him, all-the-time. First of all, Science class always put me to sleep, even to this day it bores me…or perhaps I do not have a long attention span, either way, my friend Beth and I talked about David because he happened to be in her next class, history.

Follow so far?

Beth really wanted me to “make a move” with David, and back in the day, “make a move” simply meant, “I like you, do you like me?”

There was absolutely no way I would ever “make a move” on David. Puh-leaze! The boy did not even know I was alive…..unless it was to copy English notes.

For some strange reason, that I blame on the combination of having the flu and being sleep deprived, I gave Beth the “okay” to see if David liked me.

I was fully expecting David to say something along the lines of “Who? Who is Jennifer?”
(even though I have been sitting beside him in English class for two years)

The next day in Science class, Beth could not wait to tell me the news.

“What news”

“Guess”

“I do not want to guess, what news”

“He likes you!”

“Huh?”

“He likes you, he is interested in you, David likes you”

and my heart stopped. Because I am dramatic, and I was in 8th grade, and that’s what 8th grade girls are, dramatic.

“No he does not like me, he does not even know me, he must think I am going to do good on the test on Friday, trust me, he does not like me”

“Jen, I am totally serious, he likes you. My friend Jess who is in Davids Shop class because she is a total slut and only wants to be around the boys but she is super nice one on one talked to David about you because I asked her to and it took him a day to think about it, but he told her yesterday that he totally likes you…for real!”

“Omigod, Omigod, Omigod no way, he likes me? I did not even think he knew me, at least my name, I mean he always looks at my notes, Omigod, what do I do now, how is my hair? Do I look okay? Omigod”

at this point I am embarrassed to say both Beth and I were screaming like…..like 8th grade girls.

So, Beth and decide to skip Chorus class and head to the bathroom so I can pretty up for English class. I had my aqua net hairspray and blue eye shadow ready to go. I was determined to recreate a scene from one of my favorite 80’s movies…The Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, Karate Kid. You get the point….unless you are too young to know any of these movies, and if that’s the case, then don’t tell me. I feel old enough retelling this story.

I had my big hair, two pounds of makeup, I was ready to make my appearance in English class. As soon as I enter the room David would walk over to me, throw his notebook down and whisk me up in his arms.

Well, that’s not quite how it happened.

I went to English class, and he was not there. Of course, he is going to be late, he is always late. Perhaps when he comes in he will discreetly give me a note that says “Do you want to go out?”

David was indeed late, but there was no note. He did not even ask me for my notes. Nerves I’m sure.

As soon as class was over, I took extra long in gathering my books, just waiting for the perfect time…..and here it comes…..he walks over towards me, this is it, this is the moment.

“Hi”

“Hi David”

“So”

“Yeah, so”

“Did Beth talk to you?”

“She did.”

“So what do you think?”

“Well…..I think….”

“I mean I know you are not friends with her, but she is your neighbour and I thought maybe you could put in a good word for me”

“Ummm, what?”

“You know, Jennifer, she does live across the street from you right?”

Okay, just kill me now.

“Oh yeah, Jennifer, yeah, umm, well it is not like her and I hang out or anything, but, ummm, I think our mothers know each other or something. Sure David, I’ll put in a good word for you”

“Thanks Kid! Hey….did you get today’s notes, can I copy them?”

Somehow between my friend Beth and her friend Jess who is an apparent slut who takes Shop class, they confused the two Jennifers. There was me, and there was her…..David was interested in the her.

To this day I never let Beth live that down,

and if memory serves me correctly I demanded that my parents take me out of school and home school me.

Ahhhhh, gotta love those times.

and to David, if by some freak chance you ever read this post….

YOUR LOSS!!!

This was Mama Kats weekly writing prompt, go check her out!

March 8 2004.
It was official. I had lost the baby. Not only had I lost the baby but I was currently walking around with a dead baby inside me because the good ole docs wanted me to “pass” it on my own.

I was devastated.
I was depressed.
I could not see beyond the baby I had lost. The baby I had already named Isabella because I just knew it was a girl. The baby that would have been my firs daughter and Joe’s first biological child.

I did not want to go on. It was only a matter of time before Joe would leave me? Here I was, two perfectly healthy boys from a previous relationship, and I could not even carry his baby to term.

Joe could do so much better than me, someone that could give him a baby. My sons could do better than me for a mom. All I did was spend my days in bed, crying over the loss.

How can I be so connected to someone I have never met,and now,will never meet?

I am a failure,I failed Joe,I failed my sons,and now,I failed my baby.

Life will never be the same.

June 2004
Holy crap I am pregnant again! How can this happen? Well, okay I know how it can happen but why? What about the baby I just lost just three months ago? I am betraying her. How did this happen? What do I do? I want to have a healthy pregnancy, I want this baby to make it, but I am scared.

I cannot get too attached. What if I lose this baby. I cannot go through it again.

I am not strong enough.

Why did I have to lose my first baby if I was just going to end up pregnant again anyway?

Something is not right about this,something is very very wrong.

September 2004
The baby is sick. Really sick. So sick that I now have to go see a specialist every week.

So sick that we run the risk of losing her too,yes, another girl.

I still feel like I am betraying Isabella.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I carry healthy babies? Yes,I know I have two healthy boys, but they are not Joe’s. Well,they are,Joe loves them and raises them as if they were his, but I want to give Joe a baby that is biologically his. Why can’t I do that?

Am I being punished for past mistakes?

Of course I am.

March 8,2005
I knew something would go wrong. I just knew it. Here am one month shy of my due date,and I am back in the hospital,the baby,I still have to refer to her as “the baby” so I do not get too attached,even though we already picked out a name,”the baby” is not moving,not only is she sick,not only does she have gastroschesis,some weird condition where the intestines grow outside of the body,but she is not moving. I did this to her. Once again,it is all my fault.

Can’t I do anything right?

The doctors tell me they have to do an emergency c-section.

I am scared.

I am scared that I will die.

I am scared that my baby, who I tried so hard not to get attached to will die.

I am scared my sons will grow up without a mother.

Why can’t I do anything right?

Joe and I are in the maternity ward,I am getting prepped for surgery,he is changing into scrubs,wait,can this be right,am I missing something,wait,wait,one year ago to the day I lost Isabella.

I can look at this one of two ways,

1. March 8 will be a date that I will come to dread in the following years. March 8 is possessed, bad luck, whatever you want to call it,nothing good and everything bad will happen on March 8.

or

2. Even though my baby is sick,we have an amazing NICU team on hand,they will take my baby and make her better. Joe and I will be able to take her home,show the boys their new baby sister,and life will go on.

Because,time never stops.

Even though I was praying for time to stop when I lost Isabella,

it never does

and sometimes

when we are not looking

God will use that negative

and ask us to trust him

and have faith in him

and turn it into a positive.

Even in our deepest despair, he will do it,

Just ask Gracie,

my 6 yr old daughter,who made it through her sickness,who made it through her first few weeks of life with her intestines outside of her body,who never crawled because her stomach was too scarred up,who to this day still has to go through therapy,who is as stubborn as can be,who can listen to a song on the radio and remember the entire song,who wishes her hair was as long as Rapunzel from Tangled.

Just ask Gracie.

Turning a negative into a positive does happen

She is living proof

because

by the GRACE of God, she was saved.

and for Isabella. I know she is being looked after by my grandparents in heaven.

In fact,God probably has his hands full,mediating between each set.

Grandma, Grandpa, Nanna and Pappa,please watch over Isabella,Keep her safe till I get there,and thank you,thank you for sending us Gracie.

This post was a writing prompt from The Red Dress Club
Turning a negative into a positive

November 22,2000.

Thanksgiving weekend.

I was living away from my family for the first time, and by away, I mean in Seattle. All by myself. Just me and AJ, who was 7 at the time. I also happened to be 8 months pregnant, and miserable. I have never been one of those women who enjoys being pregnant. I am fat, I have heartburn, I cannot sleep, and I was missing my family.

Really missing my family.

My sister, her husband and their 6 year old daughter, Alyssa, were driving from Denver, CO to spend Thanksgiving in Oklahoma with my parents and brother. Chalk it up to hormones, but I was depressed. Both AJ and I wanted to be there, but it was impossible. I decided to move out to Seattle, a decision which I do not regret, but I did still miss my family.

I had talked to my sister early in the morning, wishing her a safe trip, asked her to take plenty of pictures, and reassured her that I am fine. Even though I was feeling sorry for myself, I still had planned on cooking a delicious Thanksgiving spread, just the way mom used to.

I went through my day, preparing as much as I could at night, so I would have less work in the morning.

Early evening, the phone rang. Called ID told me it was my dad. He was probably just calling to let me know my sister and her family arrived safely.

Me~ Hi Dad.

Dad~ Hey kid, how are you doing?

Me~ Good good, did they make it there?

Dad~ Well….. there was an accident.

An accident? My heart sunk, yet, wait a minute, this could be one of his weird jokes. He does that a lot.

Me~ What?

Dad~ there was an accident. Carolyn, Dan and Alyssa were in an accident, a pretty bad one.

Me~ Huh?……. What…….? Are you serious?

Dad~ Yeah Babe, I am.

The tears had already begun, I knew nothing of what happened, was everyone okay, I knew nothing, yet I could not stop crying,

Me~ Well is everyone okay? What happened?

Dad~ Carolyn was driving, there is a real bad snow storm, she merged into on coming traffic and they got hit head on.

My legs just about gave out from under me. Please God, please let this be some kind of joke, or better yet a mistake. I had to sit down. Waiting, hoping, that at any second my dad would put Carolyn on the phone, and everyone would get a good laugh about how naive I am.

Me~ Are they okay? What is going on? Where are they?

Dad~ They are alive, but….

My heart was beating so fast, AJ was standing beside me, not quite knowing what to do. I could no longer hold it together.

Me~ But what??????

Dad~ Alyssa cannot feel her legs.

I was shaking, I was crying, this was not happening, not to our family. What does that mean she cannot feel her legs? Why is this happening, why?

That phone call was the first of many I had with my Dad over Thanksgiving weekend. It was bad. Both my sister and brother in law had to have surgery. My 6 year old niece could not feel her legs, and no one knew if she would ever walk again.

That phone call changed a lot of things that night.

In November it will be 11 years since, what my family now refers to as “The Accident”. My sister and brother in law still have problems related to “The Accident”, and my niece, well, she never regained the use of her legs.

But she is still with us, and if anyone dares to cross her, be certain she will run them over in her wheelchair.

\This post was a writing prompt from Mama Kats “Writer “Workshop”

I do not want to offend anyone (probably not the best way to start a post)

But….. I get annoyed with those couples on Facebook that feel the need to write on their spouses wall twenty times a day.

“I just want the entire Facebook to know that I have the best wife in the world. You are not only the love of my life but are also my best friend”

a whopping 5 minutes later the wife will post on her wall

“Thank you to my amazing husband who has always known me better than I know myself”

Seriously?!?!

You know they are sitting next to each-other on the sofa, each using their respective laptops.

Perhaps I am bitter, jealous, envious,

did I say bitter?

Now,I know my husband loves me. I do not need him to announce it to all of facebook, although it is sweet if it is maybe just once a week. I mean, truth be told, he would not even know how to use facebook. He barely knows how to email!

Am I the only woman out there who does not have her husband on Facebook?

And then…..I had one of my brilliant ideas.

Wait for it…….

Wait for it……

I can make my husband a fake facebook!

I could use our wedding picture as his profile picture, and totally run his facebook page. The first wall post would be

“I just want to thank my amazing wife for hooking me up with a facebook. She really is the Queen of all things”

Of course my family would see right through it.

And my husbands family for that matter.

But…for the few facebook friends that I do have on there, who do not know my husband, they would be all like “Awwww, I am so jealous, she has such a good husband.”

You know, kinda like how I get annoyed reading post from my friends and their spouses….but a small, tiny, minuscule part of me is jealous.

My husbands second post….

“My wife is so HAWT. Megan Fox needs to watch out”

Do you guys see how much fun I could have with this?!?!?!

However, the truth of the matter is, if my husband really did have a facebook (which would never happen) his first post would be more along the lines of

” What the *$%% did Jen just get me into?”

“Need some wine”

“Xbox”

and there would be quite a few misspelled words.

So, tell me. Does your significant other have a facebook? If so, do you guys leave corny, mushy messages on each others page? (Because if you do, then you should probably stop).

If you were to make a fake facebook for your significant other…what would the first wall post say?

and now, for me, my wall post says

“Time for vodka, over and out”

Today I am doing something new. I am joining “Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop” for the first time. The way it works, every week she will give us lovely bloggers “writing prompts”. We are allowed to pick which one we want to write about, and, we can pick more than one prompt to write about. Then we go back to her page, and link up! If this is something anyone is interested in, hop on over and take a look.

The writing prompt I chose for myself…..

What battle are you fighting? Write a poem overcoming. Every day I wake up, determined, that today will be different.
I will not give in to temptation, I will be strong, I will be persistent.

There is more to life, than what I can currently see,
I do not want to miss a chance to make a lasting memory.

I know I can overcome this, I know it in my heart
I need the strength, I need the guidance, I need the prayers to make a brand new start

Twenty some years ago, is when it all began,
somewhere along the way bulimia became my best friend.

I gave it to God, and asked for the help
the answer I was given, it was all within myself.

Just like Dorothy,I had the red glass slippers all along,
I just had to find it within me to fight the demons and be strong.

I cannot even tell you how long the battle took
but at the end of the day I knew, I know longer had to look

I had to accept who I am, and all my flaws
I am a full figured girl, w/ long hair and big bones

Food no longer had to be my saviour
Dairy Queen McDonalds,Taco Bell had finally lost the wager

Goodbye were the days when I would secretly hide
in the dimly lit parking lot in a corner, outside

Devouring the food as if it were my last
never completely knowing if I would be allowed one last chance

The battle has not yet been won,we called a truce for now
It’s a day to day fight, that I have been winning somehow.

I long for the day when I can finally say,
that I have finally overcome
all the damage I have done.

Last weekend Joe and I and the kids went to a last minute barbecue at my sister and brother in-laws house.

Of course, being the good guest that we are, we did not want to arrive empty handed. My brother in-law was cooking a nice spread of short ribs and hot dogs, he asked that we pick up some potato salad on the way.

Sure…no problem.

While at the store, two kids in a cart, one kid walking by us, touching everything in sight, the following conversation took place between Joe and I.

Joe~ we should buy chicken.

Me~ For what?

Joe~ the barbecue, so we do not arrive empty handed.

Me~ We aren’t, we are bringing potato salad.

Joe~ We should bring chicken.

Me~ Ummm, okay?

Joe~ You do not think we should bring chicken?

Me~ No…no I do not.

Joe~ Why?

Me~ you mean aside from the fact that it is chicken, that is not yet cooked, which means more work for our host…your brother in-law…no, we should not bring chicken. I think we should bring a cake, or something.

Joe~ I am still thinking we should do chicken.

Me~ okay then, chicken it is.

Joe~ Where is the marinade at?

Me~ marinade? For what?

Joe~ the chicken

Me~ Seriously?? Not only do you want to bring them raw chicken, which as I stated a few seconds ago is more work for them, now you want them to marinate it?

Joe~ Is that wrong?

Me~ Wrong…no. Stupid…yes.

Joe~ Where is the marinade?

Me~ “sigh” on the isle with the deli meat.

40.00 later we leave the store w/ chicken and marinade. I already knew this was a dumb idea and already could foresee this very blog post about it.

We get to my sister and brother in-laws house. Brother in-law is already outside cooking. Joe and I unload the kids…and chicken, from the car. We head on in to say our hellos.

Joe goes up to his brother in law, gives him a hug and a little too happily hands him the bag of raw chicken that not only needs to be cooked but apparently marinated.

Joe~ Here you go, we brought chicken.

I am standing behind Joe, not sure if I should quickly sneak inside to find my sister in-law and apologize for the chicken, or stay outside and say my hellos.

Brother in-law~ Chicken? You brought chicken?

Joe~ (he is just so damn proud of the chicken) Yeah, chicken, and lemon marinade, here ya go.

Brother in-law~ Oh, uh, umm, thanks man, go ahead and take it inside and give it to your sister.

Joe heads inside with the blasted chicken. I go up to my brother in-law to give him the obligatory hug.

Brother in-law~ Hey Jen, how ya been doing?

Me~ Good good, I told Joe not to bring chicken, I wanted to bring a cake.

Brother in-law~ yeah, what was that about? I mean I appreciate the thought and all, but, well, I have all the meat covered.

Me~ He thought you would appreciate raw chicken that you would have to marinate and cook more so than a store bought cake we could have for dessert.

And there you go. What NOT to bring to a barbecue.

We ended up leaving the chicken there for them to cook at a later date.

Brother in-law was trying to pawn the chicken off on us as we were leaving.

I told him no way.

But I did manage to leave with my vodka.

In case you are not caught up yet, I have four kids. Two boys, two girls. 4,6,10 and 17. I believe in spacing them out just right so the older kids can change diapers,cook dinners, give baths for the younger kids. I am just so smart, huh?

Anyhow, as all of you know, everyone that has more than one child that is, no two personalities are alike. Each kids is oh so different.

Especially in my case.

Today, I am talking about my 10 yr old son. If someone were to ask me “So, tell me about your 10 yr old,” my first inclination would be to laugh. Where to begin? He desperately wants a pair of red skinny jeans (I know!) He will debate (argue) with you over every-single-thing. He is stubborn, he wants to grow up to build houses for the homeless, he is a great student, loves going to school, even when I beg him to stay home so I do not have to wake up early….and, well, he is a little bit….oh…what’s the word……let’s say flaky. Yes, he is a little bit flaky.

The other day, I asked him to fold his clean clothes and put them away. Easy, right? He is fairly independent. He does do his own laundry. I refuse to allow my boys to grow up, get married and not know a thing about household chores, ya know? I do not want them to depend on their wife if they will have clean underwear that day. Anyway….my point is, folding clothes and putting them away are nothing new to him…..one would think.

He is sitting on the sofa, his big pile if clean clothes in front of him. I wait…..and wait…..and wait.

“Those clothes are not going to fold themselves”

“I know mom!”

More waiting….I clean the kitchen, come back out into the living room and he is still sitting there, clothes not yet folded with this look on his face.

“Okay, what’s going on kid? These should have not only been folded by now, but also put away”

“I’m thinking mom!”

“About what?”

“About where to put them”

Okay seriously?!?!?! I mean c’mon!!!!! Where do all clean clothes go? Where have they always gone? Let’s take a shot in the dark and say THE CLOSET??????? Am I missing something here?

Long story short, I grounded him for one day. Yeah yeah bad mom I am, whatever. Trust me, he KNOWS where to put his clean clothes.

So……(because you know the story does not end here). Fast forward to the next day.

1pm. The kids are all in school, I am doing my household chores (facebook) and the phone rings. Caller ID says it is the school calling. Crap!

“Hello”

“Hi Mom”

“Vinnie?”

“Yeah”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why?”

“Ummm,well, because it is in the middle of the school day and you are calling me….from your classroom!!!”

“Oh yeah…..why am I grounded again?”

“What?? Where is your teacher at? Does she know you are using the phone?”

“Yes Mom, why am I grounded again?”

“Because it took you over an hour to “think” about where to put your clean clothes”

“Well is there anything I can do to get off being grounded?”

“Like aside from getting off the phone with me and going back to class…ummm, no”

Okay, is it me or does this just seem strange that he is calling me, from the classroom phone, in the middle of the day?!?!?!

Fast forward to after school. Vinnie comes home, acting like he never called me in the middle of the day from his classroom wanting to know why he was grounded.

“Hi Mom”

“Hi…so….what was the phone call all about?”

“What phone call?”

“The one you made to me…today…..in the middle of school”

“I wanted to know why I was grounded”

“and your teacher actually allowed you to call me?”

“Well duh”

“Alrighty then”

“I just told her that you had grounded me and I did not know why and I would not be able to finish my math untill I knew why it was that I was grounded, she was kinda annoyed, like you get when you yell at the girls, I think she letted me call you because she knew I needed to do my math”

“Yeah…okay….you do know “letted” is not a word, right?”

“Yes Mom,jeez, that’s why I am in school and because I go every day and know that letted is not a word, I was just testing you, that is why I should not be grounded”

And now, do you people finally see, why it is I drink my vodka…daily?!?!?!

I have a vision.

Fast forward ahead thirty plus years. I am in my mid to late 60’s, my once long black hair is now a perfect shade of silver. Believe or not I decided to not color my hair, I am embracing the silver. After all these years, my hair is finally all one length. I spent a good portion of my 30’s trying to achieve one length hair, and once I did, there was no going back’ The wrinkles on my face tell a story. A story of happiness, pain, and, well, just life.

Don’t get me wrong though, I am hot. Seriously. I may have silver hair, wrinkles, probably have tried botox a time or two, but I am hot, and when I say hot I do not mean hot flashes, I mean hot, for a woman in her mid to late 60’s. I am confident, I am a free spirit, I spend my days writing and taking pictures. After all these years I am still not any good at taking pictures, but that’s what I like to do, so I’m gonna do it. Because life is too short.

Thanks to the advice (demands) of my parents, I was smart enough to save money in my 30’s for retirement in my 60’s. I am good, life is good. The kids are grown, and now, just like years ago when I went to my parents with problems, wondering how much money I am going to have to save for the therapy of my children, said children are now coming to me with the same concerns. Thank God I am beyond the child raising age. Those were some hellish years.

I imagine at least one of my kids spent some time in jail. My money is on my youngest son. All is well with him now. He is just starting a family of his own, and yet, still ask me for money. I have pretty much trained my grandchildren to under no circumstance call me grandma. I am known as Gina. Oh, my oldest son and I went some rounds on that one, especially since Gina is not even my name, but I don’t care, I am Gina.

I have lead a good life. Not always easy, but good.

Just like most families, sickness has taken a few family members a little too soon. Others are still alive and kicking, even in their 90’s. There has been cancer, addictions, pregnancy,lay offs, but we have survived. I am now the woman who I have always tried to be. Strong, confident, and free. I am happy, happy and thankful for the life I have lead, and for the life that is still before me.

But for now,

For now,

I am a wife and mother of four in my mid 30’s, who probably is a little too addicted to vodka, has no idea what it means to be confident, and living pay check to pay check. I am determined to take care of myself now, so when I do reach my mid to late 60’s I am healthy in body, mind, spirit. I have dreams that are still waiting to be found,I have goals that are have yet to be reached, and I have vodka that has yet to be had.

This is me and my journey. Come along for the ride…but don’t forget the vodka.