Saturday, October 24, 2009

It’s about the boo

Originally posted summer of 2007

It’s about the boo
Current mood: calm

I am going to my parents cabin this weekend.

You could say it was by choice, and I could disagree, but the reality of the situation is that it is in fact my choice.

You see although I know it won’t be fun for me necessarily I know that my daughter will enjoy her time with her gramma and papa, and that is the reason I choose to go.

Yes there are other things I would rather be doing, but it’s not always about me, sometimes I need to do what is great for my daughter and inevitably when I do that I seem to learn something about myself in the process.

I plan on bringing my laptop, a book, and a positive outlook, all though right now it doesn’t sound too positive huh?

Maybe this my own little pep talk to myself... I seem to do that a lot, being the only adult in the house right now while boo is in the tub, who else am I going to talk to?

My parents are aging, they will not be around forever, and they will not always be active. It is not my right to take the time that they are here, alert and active away from my daughter just because I would prefer to go out with my friends, or go dancing or take boo to the zoo etc.

And granted as I’ve said before they are not always that healthy to be around, but last weekend I had my voice with them, and I will continue to do so. When they are too much to be around because they are lost in their on little world, I will pack up and leave early. That simple.

I cherished my time with my grandma. In fact she is the most awesome person I have ever met in my entire life. She is boo’s namesake.

I remember sitting in her lap when I was a child, a very small child and knowing without a doubt that she loved me, no matter what I did. Almost all of my cherished childhood memories involve her or my grandpa. It helped shape who I am today, and I am so thankful for the time I had with them.

I learned so many things from them, about life, about people, about myself. My grandma Ella gave me unconditional love, respect, and hope for my future. She never criticized, or blamed and was always genuinely interested in my life. In fact if it wasn’t for her I dont’ think I would have had much physical or emotional affection in my life growing up.

She would find humor in situations that needed it, and taught me how to laugh at myself, how to pick myself up when I was feeling low without blaming others or myself and just looking at a situation differently. She voiced how she thought my father or mother was behaving and that it was not my fault.

I love her and miss her more than I could ever communicate in words, still to this day.

And my grandpa taught me how to build things... he was a tinker, he worked and repaired and built anything that was needed. I remember him working out in the garage and instead of shooing us away (my sister and I) he would have us “help” him. I remember the first thing I ever built was a giant “A”. He was working with wood, I don’t remember what he was building or repairing, but he gave me some wood scraps, a hammer and some nails I must’ve decided an “A” was somehow badly needed. He didn’t stop there, he taught me how to be proud of what I did, and to follow through with things. Just coming up with the idea, and putting it together wasn’t enough I had to see it through, finish it. I had to make sure it was smooth, sanded, and then I had to paint it. I remember I picked this bright, bright green color, and when I was done he never said why didn’t you build something useful, or pick a more common color, or let me get off by not following through to the end.

I think grandparents have a different level of patience, than parents do, and why wouldn’t they? They’ve been through this before.

My wish is that my daughter creates memories with her grandparents like I did with mine.

In order for that to happen I need to be able to give them the time to be together.

And seriously, it’s not hurting me to give up a weekend here and there, for a lifetime of memories for my boo.

Be who you are nothing more nothing less

originally posted Monday, June 11, 2007

Be who you are nothing more nothing less
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Romance and Relationships

If somebody would have told me that I would be single at the age of 37 I would’ve believed them.

If somebody would’ve told me that I would be single at the age of 37 plus one, I would’ve argued with them that there was no way that would ever happen to me. I would never let that happen to me. I would simply choose differently.

I was 20 what the hell did I know about life?


Single plus one....

You hear of people enjoying being single, dating, no responsibilities, loving life, living free and easy.

Ahhhh.... but single plus one is a whole different story.

Single plus one takes all of those things, and changes it drastically. To the point that you wonder what direction your life is going in, if you are forever doomed to be alone, with this bundle of joy, which I think should be more accurately coined bundle of work, but totally worth it... but I digress...

How did I get here then you may be asking yourself.


Life happens. You can have it all planned out, and more often than not it doesn’t turn out that way.

I could go into stories about my childhood and why I made the choices I did, but I’m not sure that really gets us anywhere. The fact is, this is my life, these are the choices I have made, and this is my journey. It’s like everyone else’s in the fact that their are ups and downs, fear, loss, happiness. It’s not like everyone else’s because I am doing this on my own, finding myself, trying to be a role model for my daughter, and fighting societies view of what it means to be a single mother. Let me tell you, there almost always seems to be this fear of a single mother that is strong, determined to be the best do the best for her family that puts herself and her child first. Most people I meet want to know why I’m single, and more importantly why I’m not looking for a man.

Oh dear lord... a man... now what would I do with one of those?

The reason I am single is because I am not willing to settle. I want someone to walk with me through this life. I don’t want a daddy, or another child, I am not a possession, or arm candy. I am trying to make it on my own with my daughter and myself, focusing on that vs. trying to find a “man” to come riding up on his proverbial white horse and “save” me.

I don’t need saving.

My daughter doesn’t need a new daddy. She has one. Granted he’s not the best father in the world, and I’m hoping his future performance as a father is better than his past, but he is her father.

Dating... Dating used to be something that was easy, fun and a great way to meet new people and spend time with them, and maybe eventually meet that someone who sees you as an equal, a partner and finds you so amazing that they choose to walk through life with you.

I have single girlfriends, some are completely single nothing to tie them down (as we all were at one time or another) and some are single, but have major responsibilities i.e., children, jobs, aging parents etc.

I don’t think that women are more or less attractive based on where they are in their life.

I think it’s about who they are and knowing who they are and whether or not they choose to move forward or remain stagnant. Or rely on someone else to make them happy.

I’ve been challenged lately by the thought that all men are looking for that perfect 20 something girl with no strings, an open future and no baggage. And because of this, I will never find someone, and never find happiness.

Sometimes it’s easy to get sucked into that idea.

But for those that know me well they know most of the time I don’t really care.

You see I have a goal for myself. It might not seem like that big of a deal to most of you, but to me, it’s huge.

I want to be independent. I want to be financially independent. I want to be able to choose who I spend time with based on the person they are, and if we are headed in the same direction or not. Not driven by some other possibly subconscious reason.

Most of the time I am not “looking for” my next relationship. I am trying to figure out how to make my future better for me, and my boo. How I can own my own home, even after the realtor tells me “It takes two incomes, there’s not many people... “single moms”... who can buy a home on their own”

Why the hell not?

I think that if I can concentrate on improving myself, my situation, I can do it.

I refuse to accept that the only happily ever after in this world involves two people meeting falling in love and living happily ever after.

I think that is ridiculous actually.

I think that too many people rush into a relationship or concentrate on finding one that they miss most of their life. Always looking forward to that one particular destination.

I accept that my happily ever after means living my life with grace, compassion, understanding, honesty, and love.

Love in all of it’s forms.

This doesn’t make my happily ever after less than what seems to be accepted.

Actually I think it might make more sense.

I have been in relationships, horrible, wrong relationships, because I thought I should be in one. I was supposed to be in one and if I wasn’t, there was something wrong with me, somehow I was less than.

I was talking to a co-worker of mine about why so many relationships fail. How can people go from loving one another so much to in some cases wishing that person gone... even dead.

How does that happen?

Maybe it’s because we feel so rushed to get to that destination, to our happily ever after, that we see only what we choose to in one another. And most of the time it pertains to romantic relationships almost exclusively. I mean think about it.

I meet someone whom I have no romantic interest in, because they are the same sex or opposite (depending on whichever side of the fence you’re on) and this person seems great. I make plans, start hanging out, or chatting more often. The relationship, the friendship moves forward if this person treats me with respect, honor, trust, and genuine care for each other’s feelings.

If this new friend does something, or says something I don’t agree with, treats me or my other friends with disrespect I call them out on it. I don’t put up with it.

In romantic relationships that I’ve either been in or been on the outside looking in, the “bad” behavior is either overlooked or explained away or sure to be changed in the near future.

Inevitably the relationship fails, but not after it’s gone on much longer than it would have if it was a non romantic relationship.

Stop rushing.

Stop racing some invisible clock.

Stop trying to impress.

Be who you are, nothing more nothing less.

If I don’t know who I am and are concentrating more on who is going to love me, find me worthy, I need to stop. Stop and find worth in myself.

Make my own happily ever after.

People will make the journey with me, some the whole way, and others only for a short time.

As long as I have found myself, know myself, and am true to myself no one will be able to change my story.

No one can take away my Happily Ever After.

Perception... taught by pint sized professor....

originally posted Sunday, June 10, 2007

Perception... taught by pint sized professor....
Current mood: grateful

I have the best little girl in the world.

Sometimes I forget she’s only three.

I went to the airport today to pick up my nephew, the “unaccompanied minor”.

We all know how directionally challenged I can be, and I joked with Mo on my way into the airport about remembering where I parked my car.

“Write it down” she said as we hung up with a giggle.

His flight got in at 2pm, which meant boo and I needed to get to the airport an hour early just like we would if we were taking a trip seeing as how we had to go through, check-in, get “boarding passes” for both of us, go through security to meet my nephew at the gate and sign for him, sorta like a fedex package, or the exchange of a prisoner, which of course I found humours but I was dreading the thought of this because I had to do this with boo. How was she going to be? Was she going to throw a tantrum, cry?..... would be so much easier without her.

Determined to not have another parking ramp incident I parked on the edge of the ramp, as not to venture too far into the dark recesses for fear of never returning again.

Boo and I made our way into the building with ease, and started to stand in line for check-in.

Long line... ugh... this is not going to go well, it would be so much simpiler without boo.

Hey.....wait, I’m not actually checking bags, I don’t need to stand here, just go up to the person available while everyone else is actually checking their bags.... damn, I’m so smart sometimes!

Success! Skipped a long line, got our fake boarding passes, and proceeded to our second long line to go through security.

As we waited boo burned off her excess energy that seems all too common in those small in stature by spinning like a ballerina, and singing.

I find her amusing most times, but I nervously glanced around to make sure she wasn’t getting on anyone’s nerves.

Hmm... I’ve always wondered what it would be like to take a trip with her, I’ve told myself so many times that because I have her, I’m limited in what I can do.. trapped.. and yet so far this doesn’t seem so difficult do

I feel a tug on my pants “Mama, I want to fly on a plane” and I’m back to the moment

“We will baby, someday you and I will fly together, we’ll go on a trip ok?” and for the first time I actually believed it.

Everytime I have those moments I feel a little lighter, a little stronger, a little less trapped.

And at that I caught my breath.

There it is. I thought it.


It always comes back to that word.

That feeling.

The feeling that dug it’s home deep inside me the day I read the positive result on the home pregnancy test like a worm burrows into an apple to devour what it can and leave the rest to rot.

It’s days like today that I learn.

It’s days like today that I learn because I am ready to be present in the moment, and accept, truly accept, the pint sized professor that has thankfully graced my life with her presence.

Being single plus one is mostly greeted with that look of pity.

Along with averted eyes, and that noise

“tsk...tsk... that poor girl, if only she wouldn’t have made such a mistake her life would be so full of possiblities. No man is going to want her now, she’s damaged goods, she comes with baggage, who will ever want to raise someone elses bratty kid... She’ll never go anywhere, she’s given herself such limited choices now...tsk... tsk...such a shame...tsk.. tsk...”

And then that feeling has found it’s food source, and digs it’s nest a little deeper inside your head....tsk.. tsk... trapped.

But then there are days like today.

When I realize the only one stopping me from doing anything in my life is ME. The only cage that surrounds me is the one I’ve built.

Not my boo.

Not the responsiblity of having boo.

Not the “burden” of having boo.

Not all of the time she needs, that I have to give, because she is my boo.

My daughter handled herself better today at the age of 3 than most grown ups I know, myself included.

As we went through security, she marveld at everything that was happening around her, she greeted people with smiles, and made them laugh out loud while standing... waiting... standing... stressing... looking at their watches... sighing heavily... they all stopped, to watch my boo.

Full of life, full of smiles, full of laughter.

And I let go and played with her.

We made it to the gate, and watched the giant airplanes come and go, and all were greeted with that same wonder and excitement. She found money on the ground, a simple thing, pennies, and as I watched her pick it up, try to put it in her tiny jeans pocket only to drop it and try it again without anger or frustration but determination, I smiled and looked up only to see more people watching her, smiling.

When boo had successfully placed her pennies in her pocket we found my nephew and he was greeted by boo running and jumping in his arms yelling “My Casey!! My Casey!!! Mama it’s my Casey!!!”

I signed for him and we were off to get his luggage. Not bad, so far this is not bad at all boo and I could actually do this.

I looked at my watch. Not bad. We’ve been here an hour, and all we have to do is get the luggage and be on our way.

We got to baggage claim and on the way boo championed the dreaded escaltor monster. I like to let her try things on her own, find her own path, her own way of doing things. She would stop dead at the start and wait, find her timing, hold her breath and take that step. She did it alone with only an occaissonal helping hand from mama to steady her when she lost her balance.

Carousel 10.

There we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And watched the bags go round and round as boo cheered Casey on....

“Get it Casey Get it!!! You can do it Casey!!! Get it!!! Get it!!!”

Only there was no suitcase to be found.

The airline had lost his luggage.

Ok... another line, she’s going to get out of hand pretty soon, because I’m starting to get tired of standing around waiting, she’s got to be ready to come unglued soon. And this is why I can’t do this, can’t travel, things like this happen, I’ll have to wait until she’s older.

We stood in the lost luggage line for what seemed an eternity, and as the grown ups grumbled and bitched and complained and got angry....there was boo....She started “catching” the unclaimed luggage still on the carousel with a lanard Casey had. Then she moved onto making faces at herself in the shiny chrome of the poles that they use to rope off areas. And I looked around to see people watching her, smiling.

We found out there was another flight coming in about 45 minutes from Chicago,which his luggage might be on and I decided we should gamble it. Hang out, grab something to eat since it was now 3:30 none of us had eaten since early this morning.

Another line.

Another chance for boo to get out of hand.

To struggle with.

Only she didn’t.

She lightend the mood by singing about what she was going to eat. Nothings better than a made up song about sandwhichs in a refridgerator with no door, and cupcakes on the top shelf.

After we ate, we headed back to the baggage claim to wait some more. We’d been at the airport waiting for over 3 hours.

And boo hit her limit.

She didn’t throw a tantrum, she didn’t whine, or cry, she just started “acting out” if you will. Doing raspberrys directly at my face, things she knows will get her in trouble.

Instead of thinking “Oh great, this would be so much easier without her here”

I treated her with the respect she deserved and the kindness she had shared with me the entire day, she had given me the gift of perception all day.

Viewing things differently.

It was high time I returned the favor.

There was an open area a few feet away from the carousel we were waiting at and I told Casey I was going to let her run off some of that energy, and we did.

She ran from wall to post imitating which ever animal I named, and we laughed at the silliness and the releif it gave both of us. No standing in line waiting... we were running in a jungle as tigers, howling like coyotes, growling like bears, and making our moments together.

Granted people that past us thought we were completely nuts, well at least me... but it didn’t matter.

And there I was.....Single plus one.



Learning about life from my “burden”

As we laughed and turned around there was Casey holding his suitcase high above his head triumphant, and we cheered him on.

“Yay Casey! You did it!!!” Boo giggles as she claps excitedly.

You did it


My little professor.

You did it.

I think I’m beginning to see the that the door is open on my bird cage, it’s up to me to decide when I walk through.

Now if I can just find that damn car.........

(it only took me 20 minutes this time)

As I finish writing this at my parents house, boo climbs beside me on my chair and whispers in my ear...

“Mama... I want to go home and do private time in my room”

Mr. Sandman bring me a dream.....

Originally posted Monday, March 26, 2007

Mr. Sandman bring me a dream.....
Current mood: NOT SLEEPING

Can’t sleep.

Sandman’s been here, my eyes feel like they are full of it... he forgot to bring the sleep part.. the rat bastard.

Why is it that when you can’t sleep, it’s usually when you’re overly exhausted? And there’s no end in sight? I suppose I can sleep in on Saturday morning cuz I won’t have the boo, but really how much do you want to bet that when Saturday morning rolls around, I’ll wake up at 6:30am?

Oh... and seriously... why are clothes for women either Junior sizes and fashion... or Misses sizes and FRUMPY???? I mean where’s the in between? I really don’t think anyone should be wearing a terri cloth jumpsuit past the age of 12.... and yet I really don’t want to wear polyester “mom” clothes either. .... there’s your random midnight thought....

Work... oh yeah let’s ramble about work a little bit huh? I will be tired tomorrow because I will only have slept a couple of hours and then I will rush out the door, drop boo off and daycare only to rush into my office, sit down turn on the computer, and waste time... seriously overstaffed, and not enough work... yep, I do know if the wrong person reads this it could mean trouble, but it’s the truth, and for the small amount of work that has come my way, I’ve been able to win awards... so it’s not my fault... I’m efficient and good at what I do... that is when I get to do it.....anyone have any good leads on a Graphic Artist opening anywhere?

Did you ever take a journalism class in college? You know the assignments where you just go in and write for an hour without stopping? Sometimes you’d be given a subject and other times you would just have to put pen to paper and never pick it up and if you couldn’t think of what to say you had to write “I can’t think of anything to say” I was just thinking that if Butch ever had that class I bet he would never have to write I can’t think of anything to say.... and if Peggy Larson had that class her professor would’ve have had to pass out at least once a day after reading her writing because there are no punctuation marks to let you breathe, but I love her writing.... oh and if fitz had that class he would write “I don’t fucking know what the fuck to write” and if Daniel had the class.. well shit.... the teacher would probably have to pry the pen and paper away from him......

So, my daughter masterbates... A LOT..... yep... she’s three... and when she’s older I hope she never sees this blog.... but damn... that’s crazy! I know it’s all perfectly normal and all, and I always just tell her to do it in private like in the bathroom or her bedroom and she does.... but the other morning I happend to walk by her room and she was just lying there, walked by again and she was rubbin one out and I ignored it, did some stuff, 45 mn later and we had to get going to a party and she was still workin on it!!! I had to go interrupt her!!! I mean I was ok with the very rare 5 min deal here and there ... but seriously 45 min? She got out of bed hair all tousled, cheeks all rosy, and staggerd to the bathroom..... I’m in trouble.

Yep... still not tired.

WOOO HOOOO!!! Oh goody, now my eyes are blurry, I bet yours are too... well quit reading then... I’m writing cuz I can’t sleep, what the hell are you doing reading this boring shit?

What other personal information can I divulge to the masses?

I hate boogers. They gross me out. I mean really... I gag when I see them, and if a kid (other than boo when she was really small and even then I gagged sometimes) has boogers I gag... it’s just a reflex... seriously there are worse things out there, but no, I gag at boogers.

If you’ve never gotten a message from Laslo you’re missin out... he leaves the best messages far, he’s been my mom, my vagina (twice) and some random wrong number caller.... it’s gotten to the point where I see it’s him calling and I don’t want to pick up cuz I want another message.

Yep this is the stream of thought.. no pauses... not thinking what should I write about next it just pops in and out... OH! In and Out burgers!!! I want one!!!

That reminds me of a party I went to in AZ one time.. it was at Fat Bastards House... Really.... this dude had some cash, his house was amazing the food was amazing.. he actually had every room in his house (besides the bedrooms and the bathrooms) set up with different types of foods... like the kitchen was all appetizers, the dining room was all desserts, the living room was all salads.. etc... outside by the pool was this ice sculpture that had a “slide” that you’d pour your shot of liquer from the top to the bottom where a glass was to cool your drink... anyway.... I just happend to show up at this dudes house with a friend of a friend... so basically I didn’t know anyone there... and I was asking who was hosting the party and they pointed to this man who looked EXACTLY like Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers movies... EXACTLY! He didn’t have the accent though which was good because as it was I couldn’t look him in the face and talk to him without giggling... yep I’m mature.....

Sleeping yet?


Why not?

Cuz God is punishing me cuz I don’t believe in him.... or I didn’t visualize myself sleeping enough I guess.... fuck!

Da do run run da do run run.... I’m hot, my laptop gets really hot.. so now, I’m sleepy, hot and sweaty... that’s a lovely picture huh?

All right.. my fingers are tired and before I divulge my masterbation techniques, I’m closing this thing......

If I’m not online by 8:00am someone call me, it means I’ve probably just fallen asleep.....

So....We’re White.

Originally posted Wednesday, March 21, 2007

So....We’re White.
Current mood: embarrassed
Category: Life

I was running some errands at our local (hicksville) Target.....

Actuallly it’s pretty exciting, they just opened a new SuperTarget about 5miles or so from my house in the neighboring hicksville village.

Oh the excitement... hold back... I know.

So boo and I were checking out the goods, playing, trying on sunglasses, laughing, and generally having a good time.

I wanted to find a new swimsuit, so I grabbed 3 different ones to try on. Each was greeted with
“Ewwww.... mama... “ “You have two underwears on, mama, ewwww one’s in your butt” As her little hands were trying to reach for my thong undies and remove them from their proper place as I frantically turned in circles, cuz really? Who wants their childs hands in their butt crack?.... but I digress......

After the swimsuit fiasco... we went to the grocery side of the store to pick up a few things we needed and the emphatically added.. “COOKIES!!” to the list.

As I was pushing my little darling boo in the cart (I was halfway holding her, halfway pushing her because seconds earlier she was running through the store not looking where she was going and ran straight into a bar for displaying jewlery and it smacked her right below her eye, she was being brave and trying not to cry, but it already was a red bump) and I was singing made up songs to comfort her.... and all of a sudden....

“Mama! Mama! There’s a BLACK MAN!!”

Now boo will keep repeating the same thing over and over until you acknowledge her, so I replied yes honey.. but he’s just a man.

“Mama he’s a

“Yes sweetie, but everyone’s different, he’s just a man”

Screaming at a volume like she’s about to meet her favorite Cartoon hero, she grabs my face, turns my head and screeches
“BUT MAMA L-O-O-K!!!! Mama why is he so BLACK!!!??”

I turned to this poor man, and his girlfriend and expressed my apologies, and tried to explain that we don’t get out much, and since we live in hicksville there’s not much ethnic diversity.

His girlfriend laughed and said she understood and it was no big deal... but he didn’t look so cool with it.

Which I’m pretty sure had something to do with my darling boo in the background all the while I was talking to them was still saying.....”Mama... LOOK at him.... Mama he is SO black!... Mama he’s REALLY DARK... mama.... that’s a black man...” which at this point had started to have a sing-song quality about it. And the song crescendoed with “MAMA WHY IS HE SO BLACK?”

To which, This RED mama replied with the only thing she could think of
“Why are you so white?”

Which did create the desired slience for about 2 seconds.

I heard a slight echo and laugh from said black man’s girlfriend... and then...

Boo looked at me with disbelief and a touch of disgust and said
“I’m not white, my SHIRT is white......but mama.... (pointing again) THAT’S A BLACK MAN!”

So I said my apologies again, and quickly pushed her off in another direction trying to explain people come in all shapes, sizes AND colors...

and of course

we ran into the same poor man about three more times (well actually came “close” to him and by that I mean at least 20 feet away) and each time he was greeted with


I want a pony

Current mood: giggly


A Pony.

Well not really.....actually a horse.... because a pony would be too small for me.

an arabian horse.

I used to have an arabian horse.. well not really... I didn’t own it I just borrowed it, and it wasn’t really an arabian.. well not completely arabian it was part quarter horse...

Alfie was his name-O...

well not really... his real name was Al Fury which really suited him much better because when I was putting the saddle on him his whole body would quiver because he was ready to R-U-N

He would do anything for me.... well not really... I mean he couldn’t do the dishes or anything but if I asked/wanted him to jump anything he physically could he would. No hesitation.


I want a pony. (and by that I mean horse.)