Love, baby, yeah….

Can I tell you how much I love the Whirly Girl?  How much better my life is with her in it?

I want to write her love songs, but I can’t sing.  So I put little love notes in her car for her to find at random times.

i want to just be around her all the time.  Working, playing, being quiet.  Just be close to her. 

She adds to everything.  She adds a spark to the family unit.  She adds laughter to my friends.  I am so grateful that my friends are her friends and her friends are mine.  I actually think at times, my friends like her more than me.

I love that my family accepts her.  It’s not been easy, but in time, she has won them over.  She has two kids that ADORE her and are just like me….they love to be around her. 

It’s not always been easy, but I have always been sure.  I knew that I loved her from early on.  And after a short time together (sorta), I knew we would be together in the end.  I have trusted her when others told me not to.  She is my other half and I am grateful every morning that I get to wake up and see her baby blues looking back at me.

So, I can’t write her a love song, but I can write her this love letter.   

My corazón my alma , Amo thee siempre…

Whew! Time flies…

It’s almost July.  Has that dawned on anyone else or JUST ME????  For some reason two things are really freaking me out lately:

1) The year is half over, already.

2) I am almost FORTY!!!!

Now, relax…I just turned 38 yesterday, so you have two more years of my neurotic, angst riddled rants about it (don’t unsubscribe just yet!), get ready, buckle up…

When I was a kid, summer vacation was three full months, from Memorial Day to Labor Day.   Oh, the days of glory!  How much fun we had and then bam!  School started again.  What the hell was that?  If I could go back, relish those days….they lasted forever.  Summer vacation now is barely two months.  An eternity for any parent of school age children left to their own devices and to destroy a home DAILY, but a scant second for the school age wrecking crews.

In two years, I will be turning 40….the thought of telling people “I am FORTY” is for some reason freaking me out.  Not that I haven’t earned every year of it.  But in all honesty, I don’t look 38, I can’t imagine looking forty….my mom was forty….with wrinkles.  Forty was old….I was 12 when I felt this way, but wow!  I am almost there.

I am looking forward to TURNING forty, just not saying the words. 

Of course, when it happens, it’s just as grand as being 38, right?  I hear that forty brings with it a sense of “here I am, what I am.”

Life is going so fast, I fear I may miss it.  I may look up one day and realize, yep, my twilight is upon me.  I have done and lived as I have wanted.  I have had joy and heartache.  Point is, I have LIVED!!  I am so glad of the life that I have, the children I have raised, the partner I have, that I don’t want it to end.  I want this party to continue….

Life is hectic, but I don’t think I would change one minute of the life I have led, and I look forward to the next 38 years.  The grandbabies, the life with Leslie….all of it….

I bet it’s gonna get here faster than I can imagine. 

When did THAT become a dirty word?

This makes me so sad….George Carlin was one of my FAVORITE comedians, EVER.   George is synonmous with THE dirty word…if you don’t know, then watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTyzTJTNhNk

They don’t make funny like this any more. 

George Carlin, 1937 – 2008.

When you’re born you get a ticket to the freak show. When you’re born in America, you get a front row seat.
George Carlin

Godspeed George. 

Allow me to ramble….try to keep up…

I am trying harder to write in my blog daily or at least 3-4 times a week.  I have been told that many enjoy it.  But I seem to run out of interesting things to say.  It’s all a mish mash in my head most of the time and when I get an inspiration, I will sit, jot it down and then it becomes what you read…..not much, but hey, it’s mine, right?

I have been told on more than one occasion lately, four to be exact, that this here blog is great and that people want to keep reading it and that I should write a book.  One person told me, “This is how Erma Bombeck got started.”  Which is amazing, because I LOVE Erma Bombeck….I keep thinking “hmmm, do people really want to hear what I have to say?”  “What if I run out of things to say?”  To this, I was told, “Only so many read your blog, how many millions would read your book?”  Would someone actually pay money to read what I have to write?  I mean it’s no “How to Make Love Like a Porn Star” or anything….additionally, do I have the energy to be funny, insightful and quippy for 180 pages?  Can it be large text, double spaced?  Can I get a ghost writer?  Can it BE Erma Bombeck?

My mind is a wandering tonight….pay attention, try to keep up….below, is what I do before I put it all together…..

…just got home from DATE night with the Whirly Girl and the super duo, P&E…who are two people that I don’t have the words for HOW MUCH I ADORE THEM!!!!  I don’t often let people in, really in, to who I am….and these two, well, let’s just say I threw that door WIDE OPEN and let them settle in.  I have no fear that they will ever hurt or betray me and they love me and are as loyal to me as I am to them…..

ANYWAY….home from dinner…..yummm….good company and big people conversation.  I love sushi!  And I loved the look on P&E’s faces when I gave them a suprise, just because I can….I love making people smile! 

We went and picked the son up earlier from his week at gramma’s…..oh, how I missed the boy!  I just want to go snuggle in with him and smell his little boy smell of clean hair and toothpaste….while he sleeps and snores….just like I used to hold him and his sister when they were babies….just sit and stare….I am a sucker for these two kids and they know it!!!!

I am so grateful that the mother is THAT gramma….the one that the kid can go spend a week with and have those memories.  I have them of my Mamaw and Grandad….spending the summers with them, playing, napping, having gramma cooked dinner….my mac & cheese (I am a SUCKER for homemade mac & cheese!).  We have gotten through the hard times, the miscommunication and are on a more level playing field.  This doesn’t mean I am not going to have to re-program the son, meaning….no Riley, you can’t have everything you want, you are home, not at grammas, you have CHORES here…sorry buddy….but as he gets older, he’s just older….I can’t explain…..

Maggie is going to be a lifeguard this summer, I think.  Man, she is gorgeous.  And mine.  I am moreso proud that I got a really pretty kid and she is genetically linked to me.  I watch her laying by the pool or on the couch and it hits me, this is probably my last summer having her in my house.  Everyday.  And it stirs an ache in me.  I don’t want her to go, yet I know, that I will see her more than I think I will, I will be doing laundry for her, feeding her and when it’s time to do the dishes…..she’s gone….pretty much like it is now, just well, pretty much like it is now…..but my, I am a SUCKER for this kid.  I try to be this hard strict parent, and well, yeah…..that doesn’t seem to work…..damnit.

There are soooo many movies I wanna see….Get Smart, Hancock, Eagle Eye…..Sex and the City (again!), the Incredible Hulk (which I have heard you need to see AFTER you see IronMan, which I did already).  I want to take a day and spend it in an air conditioned theater and watch them all…..

I get my hair cut by my longest known friend in a little under twelve hours tomorrow.  Renda has been doing hair since we were 6.  If is wasn’t mine or hers, it was our Barbies….to say that this is a woman born to do hair is an understatement.  And for some reason, I am so incredibly nervous about seeing her, in the most excited way!

My birthday is coming up.  I am excited about having a birthday party and at the same time, sitting back with a low level of cynicism to see who shows up.  See, parties at the casa haven’t exactly drawn a crowd in the past year.  Oh contraire…..I have LOTS of people saying they will be there, yet they do not show….yeah, thanks….so they are saying they are gonna show again, so I will buy the food, cook the food and watch it go bad…..but I will keep trying….gotta have faith….mmmmm, I gotta have faith, a-faith, a-faith, I gotta have faith…..!

I gotta get this place picked up and get some photos taken for Sandy.  She wants to see where I a living, so I have promised to post some shots.  I sure do miss seeing her.  She is smart in a very high intelligent way, the same way Ursula is and I usually feel really dumb when talking to either of them but I do love to hear what they have to say!  I get smarter by osmosis….Sandy is a staunch Republican and Ursula is a die-hard Democrat, the thought of having the two of them in the same room alternately excites me at the thought of the conversations and terrifies me at the same thought…..good thing one is in Michigan and the other in Virginia….cause I don’t know if Texas can handle all three of us.

I wanna go to Houston to see my bestie….Kenner….she was here last weekend and it was probably one of my favorite visits with her, just sitting on my deck, drinking margaritas, eating watermelon and having a cigarette or two (her, not me).  I can talk to Kendra like no other….we can catch up in a matter of moments and just click….I truly believe that all soulmates are NOT romantic, that you can have more than one soulmate and I believe that Kendra is one of my soulmates.  I treasure our friendship.

I think I need to go to bed.  I am tired and have the overwhelming urge to be around my family.  I wish my sister lived closer.  She’s only in Mesquite, which is about 25 minutes away, but right now, that’s too far.  I want my Lillee,  who I will pick up tomorrow.  I want my mom, my sister, my kids, Leslie, the whole family around me RIGHT NOW……but I get that way….I strongly depend on my family.  We are crazy, opinionated, flawed and we are Tullos women.  My sister is my biggest defender (no, Shae, not a fat thing) and consequently my largest (again, not a fat thing) pain in the rump.  She gets knocked down, gets back up and goes back for more.  I used to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to save her from herself, which typically backfired on me and in the end, she did what she wanted anyway….so there…..and I (being the sheep that I am) relented and let her do it her way….she exhausts me and I want her to live NEXT DOOR!!!!

Ramble…ramble….ramble….did you make it through? 

 

Communication is the key….

As you may or may not know, I love to talk. All the time.  talktalktalktalktalktalk……my kids come by it honestly.

You get me in a group of people who are as talky as I am and I am golden.  I will always have a funny story or fact to tell.  Many of my friends and loved ones tell me “If I ever get on Millionaire, you are my lifeline.” 

I sometimes fear that I come off as a know-it-all or a busybody.  I don’t mean to.  I like to chat.  I like to hear other people tell their stories and I love to tell mine.  Now, just because I tell stories and love to talk, these folks think they KNOW me….some do, if they listen close…others are so off base in knowing me that it’s humorous.  I will talk to you all day long, but I am not gonna give you anything more than I want you to have.  Quit diggin.

I got the chance to catch up with an old friend today, Ed.  I worked with Ed in a previous life (Wyndham) and although we started out mortal enemies (he wouldn’t let me stack my mail the way I WANTED to)….we ended up dear, dear friends and I adore him and his wife.  In talking (e-mailing) to him, I realized that as much as I love to talk to others, I don’t go out of my way to keep in touch as well as I should. 

I used to be a card person, just for no reason….you would get a card from me when the wind blew!  Again, not the person I used to be.  I could spend hours walking up and down card aisles at Hallmark and read card after card.  I had a “Gold Crown” card.   In this age of MySpace comments, e-mail and texting, I have lost that thing….that personal touch.  I need to work harder at this!

So, folks, I guess I am gonna reach out, touch someone, send someone a card.  Let them know they are important to me, that I care.  And I am gonna share my new stories with my old friends.

Hell, I might even write a letter.

In this day and age, we have gotten so busy, so multi-tasked in our worlds, that we forget that sometimes, just a simple “thinking of you” does wonders for another person.  Yes, they may want to talk your ear off, but remember, sometimes that 5 minutes in the day will be the only contact this person may have with someone not on the internet or e-mail.  I work with people that the only contact they have with anyone is during the work hours.  I always make sure to make them smile, giggle and laugh every day.

I find humor in the smallest things, I find irony in places that you wouldn’t expect (i.e., the DEFINITION of ironic, yes?) and sometimes I store these nuggets away for later use.  I find these nuggets sometimes are just the thing that should be shared. 

I love to talk about everything, my faith, my family, celebrities, shoes, tv shoes, gardening, dirty jokes, dirty talk….I love it all. 

Wanna know the ironic part of this?  I am terrified of standing in front of a group of people to talk about anything.  In fact, when Vic (Valvoline boss) told me I would have to stand in front of a group of 20 people to update year end numbers, I burst into tears and panicked so much, that he did it for me!!!!   What is that?

I don’t like to be the center of attention, but I can dominate a conversation. 

As much as I am a talker, I pride myself on being a listener.  I will listen when someone needs me.  Or just needs someone to vent to.  I have been told everything from initimate details of a persons life (ugh!) to the funniest jokes to stories of heartbreak that make me ache for the person telling me their story.  I have prided myself on being a keeper of secrets.  Many I keep for people from even my closest.  Just because if you have asked me to keep it secret, I do.  And unless you are physically or mentally harming yourself or someone else, your secret is safe with me.  Again, some of these are DOOZIES and others are just not, but still, I listen. 

To get you have to give.  Communication is a two way street.  If you are always talking, you never stop to listen.  More people need to heed this.  When in a conversation, just listen…..if you are always thinking of what you are going to say next, you may miss what’s being said right now.

I am of the mind, if you are going to say something, make it worthwhile.  Either with fact or amusement, don’t talk just to hear yourself. 

And if you say something out loud, be prepared to back it up….out loud.

Talk the walk, walk the talk….

 

Mmmm, Mmmm, Good…..

It’s that twilight time, that I get so happy in.  My only exception tonight is that the son is with the grandmother…..alternately driving her crazy and showering her with his adoration.  The Son loves him his gramma….

Aside from that….the house is quiet, the daughter(s) are here, meaning Maggie and Mollie.  They are laughing and smiling.  Maggie has a smile that lights my heart.  And Mollie is, as my dad would say, good people.  I adore her.

Leslie is quietly puzzling in our room.  The casa is cool and clean and orderly. 

My life is blessed with good friends, a family I will fiercely protect (even from themselves) and my faith is full and floating.  Someone, quick pinch me….I MUST be dreaming.

I stuck my foot in it….I said I would bake some cookies tonight.  Damn….now the bliss is blown simply because I wanna be lazy, I want to sit around and watch the umpteen Law & Order episodes I have Tivo’d.  Where did these lazies come from?  ‘Cause let me tell you, they snuck up on me fast!

Well, I guess it’s time to put on my bakin apron and burn up some cookies….

Funny stuff….

Just re-read one of my entries (cause I do that!) from May 8th and I was bitching about gas being $3.56 a gallon….

Yesterday, I paid $3.97 a gallon…..

Oh, those were the good ol’ days!!!!!

Oh, to be a father….

Tomorrow is Father’s Day.  To many, it’s a day to celebrate all things manly….or fatherly.

But what makes a father?

See, my dad was arguably the WORLD’S BEST DADDY….well, to me he was.  In my early years, he was larger than life, my hero.  He had this funny laugh and he always smelled good.  (Well, with the exception of the 48 Hours in some town in Oklahoma.  He came home covered in red Earth and mom hosed him off before entering the house.)  He made all the voices when he read to me and he loved me like no other ever will. 

I learned about how much a parent loves a child from my father.  Not that my mother didn’t do the same, but after my parents divorced, I remember dad driving out just to say goodnight.  I never once doubted my fathers love for me.  And if I needed him, he was there.

As I got older, he knew less (well I thought so, I was a teenager!) and I knew more.  He just didn’t understand.  He was so unfair, grounding me until I got a job.  Not handing me money every time I asked for it.  I just KNEW he was so unfair.  I remember how uncomfortable he was when I “became a woman” and he didn’t flinch when he had to go to the store for “girl stuff”, that was just my dad.  The cooking with the towel over the shoulder.  The t-shirts, the flannels…..oh, my dad was good stuff.

As he got older, the roles changed.  He became a grandfather and more of a friend to me.  I went to him for advice and support.  He was there every time I needed him or I need a good sorting out…..dad was there.  Unconditionally.  With the flannels and that great dad smell.  oh, dad was good stuff.

So, the question is put out there….what makes a father?

My stepdad, Dan, was an amazing man in his own right that battled a horrific illness and his own demons until they took him Home.  I remember him, dancing me around the Round Up, to teach me to two step before a date.  I remember him singing to me, ever so softly “I Am” from his album with High Praise.  I remember Dan, running into the house and up a flight of stairs with my prom dress in his arms and THROWING it over my head because of last minute alterations (damn boobs!).  I knew he loved me in his way.  And I remember the last time I saw him, as I lay in a hospital bed, waiting to give birth to, as he would call it, “his only grandchild.”  Like he knew he wouldn’t see me again until I reach the gates of heaven….and I watched him sleep in my chair, soundly and protectively.  When I woke the next morning, he was gone. 

I have had many male friends of my mother to teach me things, Michael Bastuba, Thaddeus Banks, Michael Nauert….they taught me grace, unconditional love, and forgiveness.  And in their own way, they became father figures to this girl.

We reach the here and now.  This is my struggle.  The Respondent takes the easy way out.  He has not contacted his children in three weeks.  I (me, the ex-wife) spoke to him last week about Father’s Day where he proceeded to emphatically tell me NOT to let the kids get him anything.  He would refuse it, like he did last Father’s Day, Christmas, Birthday, etc…you get the point. 

And this is where I get angry and my heart ACHES…..he was a good father when we lived together, I now believe because he didn’t have to try…..he didn’t have to go out of his way to see his children.  He lived with them and I made it easy.  How did I not see this?

It’s killing me to NOT get him anything from his kids.  It’s driving me crazy to NOT make them call him.  I haven’t planned anything for them to do for him and it’s making me a bit nuts.  I can’t imagine not being with my kids.  If he had custody, I would be there every chance I got, every time the court ordered custody papers listed and any time he offered.  I have only told him once that he could not have the kids, because I could tell he had been drinking, HEAVILY and I have a responsibility to my kids to keep them safe.  And that was 3 years ago……

My sister has a boyfriend that for the most part, I am friendly with.  We have our disagreements and he has learned to NOT take me on…..but he loves my sister and my beloved niece.  My niece made the mistake of calling him “Daddy” in front of me and it almost drove me over the edge.  But the question is, if he is there, morning, noon and night, if he supports her, cares for her when she’s hurt, is involved in her life and she loves him as such, is he a “Daddy”? 

Is being a Daddy all about biology? 

I am mommy and daddy to my kids, I have had the “Talk” with the son.  I have taught him to ride a bike, to stand up for himself, to protect his sister and how to treat a girl.  Who do you think he’s gonna run to when he had a heart break, or an ass-whoopin?  Yes, it will be me.  The Moddy. 

I wish my kids had a better relationship with their father.  I pray about it.  I can’t guilt them.  I can’t tell them how lucky they are….because tomorrow, I will make a trek I haven’t made in 10 years.  To the Garden of Psalms, to a plot next to a tree, under a windchime and I will wish my father a Happy Father’s Day.

I don’t want it to be too late for the Respondent.  I want him to wake the fuck up and see what he is losing every day that goes by and he doesn’t take advantage of the adoring love and hero-worship that his son still has and his daughter is begging him to show her.

Damnit…..why does being a mother to fatherless chidren hurt so much……?

I KNOW, I know….I am being tested….

Well, here I am again, to testify to God’s amazing presence in my life. 

Life has thrown me some lemons lately, in fact, I am sick of lemonade at this particular moment….so I am at my lowest point.  Begging that God show me my faith, that He hold me up until I can get on my feet again. 

And He is.  In His way, not mine.

My financial acrobatics oughta qualify me for the Olympics or something….I have learned in my lifetime to NEVER count on anything, that includes the Respondent EVER being a father or supporting his children.  So, the end of the school year for a junior packs alot, ALOT of punch to the checking account for a parent.  Not so hard on two, but on one….it sucks….

So we are tenderly stepping through this minefield of the moment.  I am scared witless about the dwindling of my checking account, wondering where my fairy godmother is to loan me the little extra to make it through this hurdle….and I find my peace.  I know in some way, this is gonna work out for me.  I don’t know when and I don’t know how….but I can’t bury my head and hide from it.  I have to face it.  Head on…..with Him by my side, holding me up when I get scared.

About a week ago, Riley broke the new lawnmower.  Not so new it’s still under warranty, but this is only the SECOND summer we have used the lawnmower.  Leslie took to the repair shop and they told her it would be just as expensive to buy a new one as it would to repair the old one.  Crap!  Now what?  So I call my old lawn guy, Nahum (wonderful man!) and he tells me he will stop by on Wednesday night to take a look, get a key and will mow on Saturday.  No Nahum on Wednesday or Thursday…….so Leslie goes out to see what she can “tinker” with….and comes upon the broken lawnmower….well, folks, I am currently listening to the sound of Leslie using the BROKEN, yet FIXED lawnmower right now.

I have been busy at work, super, freakishly busy at work for the past week, so much so, I didn’t think I would see the end of the tunnel…..so I prayed for strength.  And at 5:00 pm today, I had my desk clean, EVERY ONE OF MY GOALS MET, and I was stuffing the checks to drop in the mail. 

I need to remember to keep the faith.  Money is made and spent, there will be more where it came from.  Everything that breaks can be repaired.  And I have more strength than I can ever expend.

I leave it up to you Lord.  You keep testing me, keep showing me my faith.  You never fail me.

 

Thank you.

Amen. 

It’s quiet time.

A little insight into the world of all things Stephanie….I get quiet.

Apparently, I am one of the noisest people known to roam the Earth….and I have been told on more than one occasion to use “my inside voice.”  (Note to all:  this really pisses me off, incurring quiet time, more on that below.)

This I find particularly funny simply because my whole life, I didn’t speak up.  I didn’t make waves.  Don’t get me wrong, I was a chatterbox, usually about nothing and then at one point in my life, I was quite “imaginative” about my life. 

As I have gotten older and became a parent, I have gotten more vocal.  I found my voice.  I make waves, I speak up.  I am fiercely protective of me and mine.  Family, friends, faith, etc…..if I am in it…I am protective of it.

Yet, I still get quiet.  On so many levels.

When I get focused, I get quiet. 

When I get pissed, I get quiet.

When I get scared, I get quiet.

When I get to a party, at times, I get quiet.

When I am peaceful, I get quiet.

 

However, there are varying “degrees” of quiet:

 

If I am knee deep in paperwork and you walk into the room/office/space I am in and I don’t look up or I don’t make a gesture to stop, stay awhile and chat….that’s focused quiet….please drop off whatever you need to, turn and walk out, or this focused quiet will slowly turn into pissed quiet…..never a good sign.

If I am slamming around with cleaning products, brooms and rags…..that’s pissed quiet….stay out the way, don’t make eye contact and don’t want to “talk it out.”  Let me be.  We all win….we won’t fight and the house will be clean.  This does not mean for my friends to invite me over and piss me off, just so I will clean your house…..that’s not nice.

If I look as though I am planning or I am making arrangements about something, chances are I am scared quiet…..this is usually of a financial nature.  Money freaks me out….as a society we are driven by it and when mine gets tight, I get scared, so I budget my life within an inch of breathing….this is scared quiet…let me be, I will be fine as long as the numbers crunched work out the way I plan…..no need to worry and there are about three people who get to see this Stephanie.  And that’s three more than I want. 

As much as I am a social butterfly nowadays….I am also a people watcher.  I will go to a party and sit in a corner and watch people all night long and never speak a word.  It’s not because I don’t like you  (most of the time) it’s because human nature fascinates me and I will be quiet and take it all in.  Please don’t think there is something wrong and it needs fixing….this will cause a pissed quiet……either join me in quiet people watching or have a really good sarcastic comment.

And most importantly, when I am sitting, watching my family or friends and I have a smile on my face….that’s peaceful quiet…..it’s my favorite….everything is in place and my world is better than it should be in that moment….please don’t take that opportunity to tell me about your philandering husband, pregnant daughter or your gout….this will cause a pissed quiet…..and ruin my peaceful moment.

Back to being focused…..and quiet…..