2012 Songs of the Season: I'll Be Home for Christmas

As cliche as it may sound, Christmas really is all about family.  At least in my household it is.  Growing up, holidays were always a big deal for us.  Christmas, Thanksgiving, 4th of July, Easter, Mothers' & Fathers' Day ... even birthdays were big celebrations.  Since my siblings and I have been adults, and they have both moved to other parts of the country, holidays just aren't the same.  If my brother makes it home, my sister can't, and vice versa.  As disappointing as it is, it's just life.  Thankfully, we've never missed a Christmas together in all the years that we've been a family of five.

A couple of years ago, my brother wasn't going to make it home for Christmas.  The job he was working at the time sucked, and he was scheduled to work December 23 and December 26.  Driving 15 hours round trip just didn't seem worth it only to be home for a few hours more than that.  Not to mention, his little Honda Civic probably wouldn't have made the drive.  My sister had flown in a few days before Christmas.  We picked her up at the Jacksonville airport and she stayed with us until Christmas Eve, when we all piled into our little car and drove out to my parents' house.

We got there early afternoon, unpacked and got busy helping Mom put the final touches on Christmas.  Then Miles, their little puggle dog, started barking.  And he barked some more.  And he barked some more.  My mom said, "I think somebody's here."  I went to the front door and saw my sister's car.  It took me a minute to process, but there he was ... my little brother, all packed up in my sister's Yaris, standing in mom and dad's front yard.  I remember becoming completely overwhelmed with emotion when I saw him.  Throwing my arms around his neck, I choked back the tears.  And in good little brother fashion, he made fun of me.  Boys ... they never grow up. 

As a kid, I'll Be Home for Christmas was just another song.  It didn't have much meaning to me ... nothing more than a pretty tune.  As an adult, it's become very personal.  This year we will all be together, as we've always been.  There's nothing more special then waking up Christmas morning to a house full of people, lights twinkling on the tree, and the smell of turkey cooking in the oven.  I can't wait.

Merry Christmas! 

Thanksgiving: The Little Things.

Today is Thanksgiving Eve.  It's been a beautiful November day here in Florida ... sunny, mid-70's and breezy.  Both my little ladies are napping, Food Network is on in the background and there's a fat orange cat sitting behind my head on the sofa.  It's been a quiet day, but a busy week. 

Last night, once the babies were in bed, I pulled out my laptop and started thinking about this place ... this place as in my blog.  Since this is my first November post (pathetic, I know) and the day before Thanksgiving, I wanted something good to write about.  Instead of coming here, I ended up where most good internet fanatics do -- Facebook.  I scrolled my home page looking for something interesting to read.  Not much there other than gossip and talk of turkey.  I logged out ... closed the lap top ... and just sat staring at the Christmas tree.  Appropriately, I started thinking about my blessings - the big ones like family, health, faith, good friends, and so on.  And I thought why, at Thanksgiving, do we only talk about our thankfulness for family and friends?  We should be doing that every day.  Yes, I know, most of you are thankful and you probably even thank the Lord for your family at some point on a daily basis, but we seem to always talk about the same thing(s) every year.  I sound heartless ... I'm aware of that ... and I'm not making light of family because I have the best family there is.  But, instead of talking about the BIG things, I've decided I want to talk about the LITTLE things that make day to day life enjoyable.  It's a small list (no pun intended), and I hope it inspires you to think about all the little things you're thankful for this year. 

• Coffee.  Whether I'm up at 6:00 A.M. or my children let me sleep past 9:30, Folgers makes my mornings a little more enjoyable.
• Christmas Lights. 
• Lotion.  Weird, I know.  But have your hands ever felt super dried out and craving moisture, yet you don't have any lotion on you?  Once you finally have some in your grasp, don't you feel about thirty times better?  You know what I'm talking about ... don't act like you don't.  
• Ceiling Fans.  
• Light Bulbs. 
• Chap Stick.  This ties in to what I said about lotion ... but for your lips. 
• Netflix. 
• Toilet Paper. 
• Mascara.  Those of us who are natural blondes with blonde eyelashes are extra thankful for this.
• Chocolate. 
• Forks.  Imagine everyone at your table tomorrow trying to eat cranberry sauce with their fingers.  Did you picture it?  Not pretty, huh?  Aren't you thankful for forks?
• Clorox Wipes.  
• Dishwashers. 
• Tooth Paste. 
• Baby Monitors.  I honestly don't know how my generations' parents survived without these things.  If I didn't have one, I'd never get any sleep at night due to sitting up worrying about my children.  
• And finally, Hot Showers at the end of a tiring day ... so relaxing.

There are dozens and dozens of things that I'm thankful for ... not just at Thanksgiving, but every day of the year.  And I hope that tomorrow, when you're sitting around with Granny and Gramps listening to stories that you've heard forty-two times ... or having to suffer through awkward conversations with your Uncle Larry ... or entertaining your cousins who get on your nerves, that you will remember all the things you are thankful for - BIG and SMALL.

Count your blessings, and have a safe & very happy Thanksgiving!  

April Showers Bring May Flowers ... and July Blog Posts.

My "May" flowers. 

Well, that's how the saying goes anyway ... sort of.  At least the April and May portion of it - the July was my own twist, although I started writing this in May.  Then I was determined to finish it in June.  And before I knew it ... it was July.  Oy.   Anyway, I know you've all heard the phrase "April showers bring May flowers" -- it's a pretty literal statement in that if it rains a lot in April, by the month of May the Earth should be in full bloom.  Right?  It does make sense, and in Florida we usually get our share of Spring showers followed by early Summer flowers.  But this past April gave me a new perspective on this classic rhyme.

April started like any other month, but I knew from the get go it was going to be busy.  Every weekend was booked.  There was Easter the first weekend, followed by Mr. M being on call the next weekend.  Then came the dreaded glucose tolerance test that every pregnant woman must endure - fasting sucks, especially at 7:00a.m. on a Saturday.  The following weekend was to be a wedding of a childhood friend, and we would end the month by taking a mini-vacation to The Florida Aquarium -- just Mr. M, Miss G, and yours truly.

My, how life changes things.

It was a Tuesday, and it had just been one of those days.  A day that just sucked.  It was April 17 to be exact ... not sure why I remember the date, I just do.  We had just put G down for the night and I was about to burn the last cell of my energy on showering before I completely collapsed.  But I heard Mr. M on the phone in the other room, so I waited to see who he was talking too.  It was his on-call week at work -- now that the weather has warmed up, his on call weeks are always busy with A/C's not working, or they're low on freon, something.  So, I figured if he had to leave for a call, I'd wait until he was gone before I showered, so I'd at least know what was going on.

He entered the bedroom.

"Do you have to go?" I asked.

"What?  No, that was your mom," he responded.

"Oh.  My mom?  Why'd she call you?"

With a look of seriousness he said, "Now just know that everything is alright, but..."  You almost always know when the word but proceeds the phrase 'everything is alright', that everything most likely isn't alright.  He continued, "...they took your Dad to the hospital with chest pains.  They're at the VA."

I'm not sure where the conversation went after that.  It's a blur.  I felt the hot tears hit my eyes, my cheeks, then the bedspread.  I reached for my phone to send out a text to all of my praying friends and family.  I don't even remember what I said.  I could barely see the keys through my tears, but I hit send and I know prayers went up immediately.

I think I sobbed for a good hour ... I just couldn't control it.  When I finally calmed down, I texted Nutmeg (my sister) to see if she had talked to Mom.  "About what?" was her response.  I knew by that response that my mom hadn't spoken to her.  I told Mr. M he had to call her, because I couldn't.  I'd be a wreck on the phone.  He did, and she had about the same response that I did.  Poor Mr. M -- the bearer of not-so-good news that night.

Fast forward.

After running tests, they found that Dad had blockage in three valves.  It wasn't major blockage and he hadn't suffered a heart attack, which was great news; but when it comes to your heart, blockage is blockage.  Eight days later, Dad had triple bypass surgery.

Bypass surgery seems to be a common procedure these days.  I know dozens of people who have had it and gone on to live long, healthy lives.  I knew from the time we got the news that my Dad would come through okay, but it's still different when it's your Dad and not Mr. Smith from church or your Great Aunt Lucille.  It's your Dad ... your Dad.  The very first man you ever fell in love with.  The one who made scraped knees and busted elbows all better with just a hug and kiss.  The one who gave you away at your wedding.  The one, who from the time you're a little kid, you expect to live forever.  Your Dad.  He was facing the reality of having open heart surgery and a long recovery, while I was dealing with the reality that he isn't as young as he used to be.  That he is mortal.  That he's not untouchable from the scars of sickness and disease.   

That ... is a really hard pill to swallow. 

Nutmeg & Dad.

The morning of, my sister and I arrived at the hospital at 5:30 a.m.  It was early.  We hung out with Dad until they took him back to pre-op -- where we were forbidden to enter.  After a short prayer, hugs & kisses, and everyone doing their best to hold it together, they took Dad back.  What was supposed to be about a four hour surgery, seemingly stretched into a lengthy nine hour operation.  We saw so many people come and go in the waiting room that day.  Family groups, lonely spouses, pastors, friends and loved ones.  The list goes on.  By the time Dad was out of surgery, we had spent over fifteen hours at the hospital, and I think all of us had grown to hate waiting rooms. 

Dad's surgery was on April 25.  Exactly a month later, after ample physical therapy, a week in rehab, a shock treatment, countless sleepless nights in uncomfortable hospital beds, and lots of prayer, Dad was discharged and homeward bound.  Praise God.  It was Memorial Day weekend.  We celebrated with a picnic in the country -- southern fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans and coleslaw. 

He's been home for almost two months now.  I see him about once a week -- he's getting back to normal slowly but surely.  God has been good to him ... to our family.  One day at a time, one prayer at a time.  Amen.

Songs of The Season: A Baby Changes Everything.

My sweet baby G...a day old. 

"A baby changes everything." 

It's a common phrase.  Maybe it's been applied to you personally, or possibly you've used it in reference to a friend or family member's situation. When Faith Hill released her song, A Baby Changes Everything, it really hit home for me. 

If you've read the story of me and Mr. M, you know the kind of stuff - racial stuff - we went through while we were dating, and then some.  There was tension from outside sources, along with tension in the family unit - extended family.  Mr. M proposed to me about a week before Christmas in 2006.  I remember that Christmas day...the tension that filled the air when my grandparents arrived for Christmas dinner.  They didn't know yet, but I knew they'd find out about our engagement before the day was over.  I wore the ring he had given me proudly.  They didn't notice.  As we were saying our goodbyes that evening, my mom - bless her heart - took it upon herself to be the "bearer of bad news" as she told Nana (my grandmother) I was engaged.  Mom then proceeded to call me over and force me into showing Nana my ring.  I plopped my hand out and wiggled my fingers to let the diamond catch some sun light.  I didn't get an "Oh, it's beautiful!" or a "Do you have a date picked out?" or even a simple, "Congratulations!".  Her response?  "You've got a long, hard life ahead of you."  I retaliated with, "Life is hard for everybody, so why not spend it with someone you love?"

M and I got married in August of 2007, and found out we were pregnant in May of 2009.  My mom, once again, broke the news to my grandparents.  And instead of excitement or congratulations of some sort, the response again was less than impressive, "Well, I figured it would happen sooner or later."  You'd think I'd be used to these kinds of remarks by now, and although I do ignore them, it still stings.  I remember how crushed I felt when Mom told me what Nana's response was.  I remember fighting back the tears as I told a good friend of mine about what had happened.  She, along with Mom, reassured me that although my grandparents had their issues, "a baby changes everything". 

G was born in January of 2010.  I spent twenty six grueling hours in labor, and at the end, I had a perfectly healthy and absolutely beautiful baby girl.  I was completely exhausted, but when that precious little girl was laid on my chest for the first time, I felt as if I could've run a marathon.  She was wrapped up in blankets, and peeked at me with those chocolate drop eyes.  I melted. 

In that moment, everything changed.  Everything I thought I knew about life, about myself, about relationships, about love was changed indefinitely.  She had changed it all by merely existing.  She didn't have to say a word.  She just had to be.  My world was turned upside down nearly two years ago, and that little brown-eyed girl continues to shake things up every day.  My perspective on life has been completely altered.  I look at everything differently - the sunshine, puppies, flowers, even water puddles left behind after the rain. 

Five years have passed since Mr. M asked for my hand in marriage, and almost two since G took her first breath.  Some people have come around - others haven't.  But with or without them, a baby really does change everything.

Happy Christmas!

Day Thirteen: Road Trips.

Miles the Puggle.

Road trips are the shiz.  I've always had a weird obsession with them.  Growing up, my family took many a road trip from time to time.  Of course, living in the country, and at least fifteen miles from civilization, just making the hour drive to the mall seemed like a road trip at times.  But you get used to it.

My dad played wheelchair basketball for years.  Tournaments opened a lot of doors for us to travel.  The biggest trip we ever took that was related to basketball events was our trip to Boston in 1993, I think.  I was twelve, and that was a long drive!  I remember there was snow on the ground and it was March.  That was a completely foreign sight to see for a Floridian.  I also remember going to a ritzy banquet while we were there, and being served this really gross chicken that was stuffed with orange-infused rice.  I have no idea what that was about.  A northern thing, perhaps?  Basketball took us on other adventures, but mainly in the South - Alabama, Kentucky, Tennessee, and various cities throughout Florida.

There were some non-basketball related road trips as well.  Many of those were to Illinois and Arkansas, where my Dad's family is. I haven't been to Chicago in years, but it's one of my favorite cities.  Little Rock was the last family road trip we took in 2006, I believe.  I'm really not good with remembering years - obviously.  It was 2000 and something....I know that much.  In college, my sister and I, along with our good friend Lang, took a road trip to Richmond, Virginia.  We left the day after Christmas in 2003 and drove twelve hours straight.  This is also the trip where Mr. M and I got to meet in person for the first time.  You can read more details in A Borrowed Blog.

The time has come for yet another trip.  As you're reading this, I am cruising up the interstate with Mr. M, G, Grandmom (my mom) and Poppy (my dad) along with a goofy little dog named Miles.  We are headed to Tennessee to visit my sister and brother for Thanksgiving.  I'm thrilled.  This is G's very first road trip.  When she was about nine months old, she and I flew to Chattanooga to visit Nutmeg, but we've never driven further than a couple of hours with her.  I will be sure to give a full report on how she did once we're back in Florida. 

Road trips are tiring, yet exhilarating.  They are sometimes pricey, but cheap fun.  They can be spontaneous, or planned for months.  But whatever they are to you, across the board they're always packed with lots of laughs, lots of car games, and lots of fun.

Happy Thanksgiving & Safe Travels to you!

Day Five: A Day At The Park.

This past Sunday, my husband, daughter and I decided to take advantage of the beautiful fall weather and headed to the park.  Seeing little G laughing and completely enjoying herself got me thinking about blog topics.  I thought about writing on the innocence of children, or child like faith, but as I flipped through the pictures I saw that they told the story better than I ever could.  Enjoy!