When I was 5 years old, I remember laying on the floor under Mama’s ironing board and watching Gun Smoke and Wagon Train while Mama ironed. I don’t remember Mama ever working outside the home, though I believe she did before my brother, Gregg, was born. Though she worked harder than any woman who had TWO full-time jobs. Around the same time I learned to ride a bike without training wheels, Mama started teaching me to spell the names of colors. She would be in the house either ironing or cooking supper as I rode my bike up and down the driveway. Each time I passed the door she would call out the name of a color and I would spell it. And grammar – well, that was drilled into us as we learned to talk. We were taught to speak in grammatically correct sentences and to write with legible penmanship. I remember a teacher asking me WHY a certain form of a verb was correct, I told her “because it sounds right.” That wasn’t the answer for which she was searching. It’s funny the strange things you remember about your childhood.
In 5th grade, I remember coming home in tears because a classmate and neighborhood girl had been making fun of my clothes. She also said something about my father. Mama told me to ignore her that she could dress in fancy, expensive clothes and act like she had money, but her father was nothing more than a college professor and they didn’t make THAT much money.
During the summer, after we had finished our chores and my younger siblings had taken a nap, Mama would take us swimming at Westhills Country Club. In 7th grade, a girl whose family was also a member of the same country club, was constantly making fun of me. One day when I had finally gotten my fill of being teased, I gave back what I was getting. This resulted in her throwing a glass of Coke on my white shorts. I followed her into the ladies’ locker room and proceeded to beat the crap out of her. Mama was standing in the door keeping everyone else out until I had “taken her down a peg or two” (Mama’s words, not mine, though that’s what I was telling Linda as she was getting her well-deserved beating).
During my sophomore year in high school, Mama made two trips to the school in my defense. She walked into the principal’s office and asked to meet with my history teacher, who was also the football coach. I had received an 0 on a homework assignment which I had actually completed (for a change) and had forgotten at home; however, the football players did not turn in that same homework and they received a 100; after all, they had football practice. Mama told the Coach that I had completed the assignment, which she had brought with her, and furthermore, I had piano lessons the day before. If I was going to receive a 0, then “by God, the football players better receive a 0 also.” I believe she went on to threaten to mop the floor with his butt if the situation was not addressed correctly, though I know Mama didn’t put it that nicely. I received credit for the homework assignment.
My Mama’s a natural redhead and lends credence to the old saying that “dynamite comes in small packages.” She taught me so many things by example growing up. She always did what was right, what was ethical and she always stood up for her beliefs. Oh, you didn’t have to ask her about her beliefs, if the subject matter came up, she would let you know in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought. She also stood up for others whom she felt were being treated unjustly. That same football coach, the one she had reprimanded for his unfair treatment of students came under fire for something which he did not do. He and the basketball coach were in jeopardy of losing their jobs. A public hearing was held and Mama (along with other parents) spoke in the coaches defense at the hearing helping to save their jobs. I learned what’s right is right and what’s wrong is wrong and there’s usually not a lot of “gray area” there.
Daddy worked as a salesman during my childhood and was usually out of town from Monday morning until Thursday night. That meant for all intents and purposes, Mama was a “single mother” four out of the seven days every week. No easy task with four of us, spaced four to five years apart. She did laundry, cooked, cleaned, while taking care of four children. She was the original “soccer Mom (though none of us played soccer. After school most days she was either taking one of us to brownies, band practice, piano lessons, and on and on. It was rare that one of us didn’t have some place we had to go after school each day.
We were yelled at, threatened, and actually sometimes (though very seldom) spanked. Mama could come up with some original threats. I remember Mama threatening my sister that she was going to “pinch off her head and flush it down the toilet.” It seems to me that she also chased Kym once with the vacuum cleaner – or maybe I dreamed it, but I can definitely see Mama doing that. She was tough with us – but fair. When I hit puberty, all hell broke loose between Mama and me. I remember Mr. Nick (who later became my father-in-law) telling me that the reason Mama and I fought so much was because we were so much alike. I heatedly denied that allegation stating with venom, “I will NEVER be like my Mama.” Thank the good Lord, I was wrong.
My sisters and I were told growing up that “You can do ANYTHING you put your mind to.” We learned that there were not too many things that men can do that women can’t, Mama showed us that growing up. So far, the only thing I’ve discovered besides not being able to lift as much weight would be that a woman CANNOT pee standing up without wetting herself. We were taught that we not only can HAVE an opinion, we can EXPRESS that opinion – and buddy, we all three do just that. We were taught, by Mama’s example, to be strong, a lesson to which I have to say has probably not only saved my life but also my sanity several times. And honestly, I now strive to be more like my Mama, because she’s one of the two best people on the face of this earth. And I thank God every day that I was fortunate enough to be her daughter. I love you Mama.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Monday, August 30, 2010
Times they are a changin'
OK - before you read this - rather than a Post script I'll put this up front. This is written "tongue in cheek" and if you decide you wish to read it and then call my Daddy and tell him the contents, shame on you. He's already aware of everything here - well, ALMOST everything here - and please refer to earlier writing titled "Self Expression" written Sept. 9, 2009. It's on my My Space Page. Now without further ado:
It's hard to believe it's been over two years since I've written anything on my G rated blog which was when Peyton started walking. Gosh - so much has changed. Alex got Peyton back in August 2008. She, Peyton and Chris lived in an apartment here in Slidell until December 2008. She and Peyton moved in with me then to prepare for her departure for bootcamp in April 2009. Since June 2007, I have gone from no grandchildren to four and two halves.....Alex and Amy are expecting again - so it will be six early next year. Looks like maybe three boys and three girls. I am indeed blessed. (Grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your own teenage children.)
December 2008, I was laid off from my position as a paralegal in New Orleans. I had been having difficulty with my eyes (inflammation caused by an infection in my eyes) which made it almost impossible to be as efficient or accurate in drafting, editing, proofing and finalizing legal documents - the crux of my job. Ironic, because in my 30s I returned to college so that I could obtain a better paying position so I could support myself and my children without having to depend on anyone else; incurring student loans out the wazoo, only to find I cannot perform that job any longer. On the bright side - I hated working for attorneys anyway.
I have been working as a substitute teacher and paraprofessional as often as possible. Usually at the alternative school or with the behavior disorder kids. Funny, I'd rather work with "bad kids" than "good attorneys" (good attorney, honest attorney - both are definitely oxymorons). June of this year, I took the course required to become "certified" as a paraprofessional so that maybe I can obtain a full-time position as SOMETHING working with these kids with special needs.
I quit smoking the first of April. Haven't had a cigarette since then, and haven't killed anyone yet either - close call a couple of times, but so far, I'm not a homicidal maniac. And now if the weather will cooperate so I can exercise more, maybe the tension and calories will be eliminated more efficiently and I won't have to buy larger clothes. Cleaning house isn't exactly "weight reduction" exercise, and as far as other indoor exercise, please see paragraphs #6 and #7.(OK - now to the "Puritans" who might be reading this - that was a joke, sorry if it offended, wait, no I'm not - if you're offended, you should already know better than reading my writings...).
Brian made it to high school. He is attending his older brothers' (and wonderful sister-in-law's) Alma mater, Salmen. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he applies himself and does well. He doesn't realize it yet, but he may just be the next Einstein, if I could just get him to focus and do what he should. You know, the way my kids end(ed) up is actually my Mama's fault. I recall as a teenager when Mama would get frustrated she would tell me, "I hope you have one [a child] just like you." Well, I have four - each one has a different aspect of what must have been an undesirable characteristic of mine. Gosh, Mama, I'm so sorry - it took four kids to cover all of my "bad habits and characteristics." How did you remain sane? Obviously, my parents are both saints.
My relationship with Tom fell apart in 2008 and 2009 - on again, off again - many broken promises of change (him, not me). I allowed him to stay here for months as a "roommate" because he had no place else to go - and like Mama tells me - I'm too nice for my own good. But when my son became aware of the drinking, staying out all night - those types of activities in which Tom was participating, I issued an ultimatum - stop or move out. Two more broken promises/rules later - I packed his belongings and had them ready one morning when he finally stumbled home after a night of drinking and hoeing (as Brian called it) One slap (him to me), one 911 call (me to STPSO) and a hasty exit (him)later, I was, as Gilbert O'Sullivan sang, "alone again, naturally."
I have dated on and off since then; a couple of people I dated for several months (not at the same time), but I'm taking my time. I'd thought about coming up with a psychological test to give prospective "dates," but I decided to try and steer clear of "certain types." For example, those who tend to drink in excess; who think they are rocket scientist and aren't (I have actually met one rocket scientist); those from whom small children and animals flee (usually a good indicator that person's evil); those who proclaim they avoid drama (first, define drama, no one likes excessive drama, and I try to avoid it, but get a grip - life is full of drama - if it's not, you're either a priest or nun - oops, on second thought - you must be a nun - some priests tend to CAUSE drama); those people will be immediately eliminated from my "short list" (like I have a "long list"....lol....I WISH). So in other words, ANYONE whom I would have dated or with whom I would have become seriously involved in the past is to be avoided like the plague. But seriously, right now I'm not worried about "dating" - I'm concentrating on Brian and finding a job - the order of those two priorities differs from day to day.
So as I try to re-discover myself; well, I was always here, just hiding at times (God, now I sound like I'm in need of a psychological test) and try to find another job, I have come to the realization that the philosophical ideas by which I have directed my life are better than most: Be yourself; treat the earth and other living things with respect; be respectful to your elders (whether they deserve it or not); be kind to animals, children and your elders; always be honest but tactful; laugh as often as you can; and love totally and unconditionally. I may get hurt and others may take advantage of me, but when my time is up, I will have no regrets. Because, like the title of Jim Morrison's biography, "No one here gets out alive."
It's hard to believe it's been over two years since I've written anything on my G rated blog which was when Peyton started walking. Gosh - so much has changed. Alex got Peyton back in August 2008. She, Peyton and Chris lived in an apartment here in Slidell until December 2008. She and Peyton moved in with me then to prepare for her departure for bootcamp in April 2009. Since June 2007, I have gone from no grandchildren to four and two halves.....Alex and Amy are expecting again - so it will be six early next year. Looks like maybe three boys and three girls. I am indeed blessed. (Grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your own teenage children.)
December 2008, I was laid off from my position as a paralegal in New Orleans. I had been having difficulty with my eyes (inflammation caused by an infection in my eyes) which made it almost impossible to be as efficient or accurate in drafting, editing, proofing and finalizing legal documents - the crux of my job. Ironic, because in my 30s I returned to college so that I could obtain a better paying position so I could support myself and my children without having to depend on anyone else; incurring student loans out the wazoo, only to find I cannot perform that job any longer. On the bright side - I hated working for attorneys anyway.
I have been working as a substitute teacher and paraprofessional as often as possible. Usually at the alternative school or with the behavior disorder kids. Funny, I'd rather work with "bad kids" than "good attorneys" (good attorney, honest attorney - both are definitely oxymorons). June of this year, I took the course required to become "certified" as a paraprofessional so that maybe I can obtain a full-time position as SOMETHING working with these kids with special needs.
I quit smoking the first of April. Haven't had a cigarette since then, and haven't killed anyone yet either - close call a couple of times, but so far, I'm not a homicidal maniac. And now if the weather will cooperate so I can exercise more, maybe the tension and calories will be eliminated more efficiently and I won't have to buy larger clothes. Cleaning house isn't exactly "weight reduction" exercise, and as far as other indoor exercise, please see paragraphs #6 and #7.(OK - now to the "Puritans" who might be reading this - that was a joke, sorry if it offended, wait, no I'm not - if you're offended, you should already know better than reading my writings...).
Brian made it to high school. He is attending his older brothers' (and wonderful sister-in-law's) Alma mater, Salmen. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he applies himself and does well. He doesn't realize it yet, but he may just be the next Einstein, if I could just get him to focus and do what he should. You know, the way my kids end(ed) up is actually my Mama's fault. I recall as a teenager when Mama would get frustrated she would tell me, "I hope you have one [a child] just like you." Well, I have four - each one has a different aspect of what must have been an undesirable characteristic of mine. Gosh, Mama, I'm so sorry - it took four kids to cover all of my "bad habits and characteristics." How did you remain sane? Obviously, my parents are both saints.
My relationship with Tom fell apart in 2008 and 2009 - on again, off again - many broken promises of change (him, not me). I allowed him to stay here for months as a "roommate" because he had no place else to go - and like Mama tells me - I'm too nice for my own good. But when my son became aware of the drinking, staying out all night - those types of activities in which Tom was participating, I issued an ultimatum - stop or move out. Two more broken promises/rules later - I packed his belongings and had them ready one morning when he finally stumbled home after a night of drinking and hoeing (as Brian called it) One slap (him to me), one 911 call (me to STPSO) and a hasty exit (him)later, I was, as Gilbert O'Sullivan sang, "alone again, naturally."
I have dated on and off since then; a couple of people I dated for several months (not at the same time), but I'm taking my time. I'd thought about coming up with a psychological test to give prospective "dates," but I decided to try and steer clear of "certain types." For example, those who tend to drink in excess; who think they are rocket scientist and aren't (I have actually met one rocket scientist); those from whom small children and animals flee (usually a good indicator that person's evil); those who proclaim they avoid drama (first, define drama, no one likes excessive drama, and I try to avoid it, but get a grip - life is full of drama - if it's not, you're either a priest or nun - oops, on second thought - you must be a nun - some priests tend to CAUSE drama); those people will be immediately eliminated from my "short list" (like I have a "long list"....lol....I WISH). So in other words, ANYONE whom I would have dated or with whom I would have become seriously involved in the past is to be avoided like the plague. But seriously, right now I'm not worried about "dating" - I'm concentrating on Brian and finding a job - the order of those two priorities differs from day to day.
So as I try to re-discover myself; well, I was always here, just hiding at times (God, now I sound like I'm in need of a psychological test) and try to find another job, I have come to the realization that the philosophical ideas by which I have directed my life are better than most: Be yourself; treat the earth and other living things with respect; be respectful to your elders (whether they deserve it or not); be kind to animals, children and your elders; always be honest but tactful; laugh as often as you can; and love totally and unconditionally. I may get hurt and others may take advantage of me, but when my time is up, I will have no regrets. Because, like the title of Jim Morrison's biography, "No one here gets out alive."
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Mobile
Well, a little over a week ago when I picked Peyton up from daycare the girl stood him about 6 feet away and he slowly toddled to me on very stiff and wobbly legs. Now his preferred method of getting around is walking. He still is a bit "stiff," Bill (his paternal grandfather) jokingly called him Frankenstein, but he gets where he wants to go.
He's also discovered the pet door. At first he would tentatively push it and then turn and look to see if anyone was watching. Last week he made it half-way out the door. Guess he wanted to go outside. Of course, he is never out of his playpen without someone in the room with him - for one because, obviously you never leave a toddler alone when he's mobile and two, he's FAST!
He loves cell phones! Don't know who he tried to call on his Mom's cell phone last week, but he was punching in numbers. And he has started giving kisses without being asked. Of course, it's the open mouth kisses - but who cares - a kiss is a kiss! But if you put your forehead up against his, he'll pucker up for a kiss. And we are discovering he has a temper. Who would have thought? Yeah right - he didn't have a chance. But so far, the only time I've slapped his hands was when he was trying to play with the electrical outlet. I just ignore the temper tantrums.
He's also discovered the pet door. At first he would tentatively push it and then turn and look to see if anyone was watching. Last week he made it half-way out the door. Guess he wanted to go outside. Of course, he is never out of his playpen without someone in the room with him - for one because, obviously you never leave a toddler alone when he's mobile and two, he's FAST!
He loves cell phones! Don't know who he tried to call on his Mom's cell phone last week, but he was punching in numbers. And he has started giving kisses without being asked. Of course, it's the open mouth kisses - but who cares - a kiss is a kiss! But if you put your forehead up against his, he'll pucker up for a kiss. And we are discovering he has a temper. Who would have thought? Yeah right - he didn't have a chance. But so far, the only time I've slapped his hands was when he was trying to play with the electrical outlet. I just ignore the temper tantrums.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
My writings
I have used one of my "blog" pages to list my attempts at writing. I do not have them all posted yet, just some of them. I'm working on another which compares women's moods during "that time of the month" - to some men's mood swings - because believe me - I know at least two men who experience PMS - but on a daily basis, not monthly.
Anyway, here's the link to my other page:
http://sylphandra.blogspot.com/
Anyway, here's the link to my other page:
http://sylphandra.blogspot.com/
Monday, March 24, 2008
Some pictures from March
Here are some pictures from March - some taken at the lake on March 1, 2008 and some taken while Brian was holding Peyton as well as one picture of Brian on the computer (1-21-08). My favorite is the one of Peyton waving.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Exploring the world
Peyton is beginning expand his exploration of "his world." My parents gave him a walker for Christmas. At first he could only move backwards. Now, he plays soccer with the dogs and plays “chase” with us. He still army crawls – Jeremy said he looks like a sea turtle when he crawls – and he does. But I don’t think the sea turtles can move as fast as he can – especially when he’s going after something that he’s not supposed to have. He tries to repeat “I love you” sometimes – and you can tell that’s what he’s trying to say. He’ll also grab your face and pull you down to give you a big sloppy open-mouthed kiss (I think all babies start off giving a kiss that way). He’s finally started using a pacifier – but only to chew on – and then he tries to share it (he does the same thing with his teething toys) – so you have to be quick and make sure you’re mouth is closed. I don’t try to discourage him – after all – he’s just “sharing.” His paternal grandparents bought him a “scooter” – which he enjoys sitting on and pushing. And he loves the water and his “rubber ducks.”
Shelby’s growing up fast also. She celebrated New Years – and attended a wedding. She’s such a beautiful little girl! But now she and her Mommy are in Dallas with her Daddy – I know her Daddy’s so happy now that he has his family with him.
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