I can see clearly now.

I was over at Cristins blog, Tiptoeing through the Tulips she had this fun link for The Spin Cycle, to weird each time I wanted to right click on it, I got a message that said "Oh I'm picking out a thermos for you" not kidding.

So I left clicked and followed the link, to Sprites Keeper, because that's all I need is another blog to follow! There are not enough hours in the day people! I love to many blogs!!

Alright, so to the matter at hand, I get to put my spin on a subject.

AND today being the special Holiday that it is... MLK day, I thought that should be a great subject!

Ready? Because it's about race. And how I feel about it. How I was raised around it. And how I am now about it.

If you haven't noticed I am white, pretty pasty at that, kinda see through opaque colored skin. Blonde hair, blue eyes. I am Italian, Polish, German, French, English and American Indian. I married a Irish, German, Welsh dark haired guy, who is a shade tanner then I am. We have two blonde haired, blue eyed children. Post family for "white people" is where I'm going with this.

I was raised in a City with many mixed races south of Chicago, BUT I grew up going to a Catholic school, with ALL white kids, only a few hispanics (the town is FULL of Catholic schools 8 to be exact) the Catholic school 4 blocks away was mostly blacks, hispanics and some white kids.

So back to me. I was raised around white people, I heard my elder relatives use the N word like it was any other word in the dictionary. Like it was ok. I was told to NEVER use it around black people. But it was ok to say it behind their backs, and that every race had a nick name. Even white people.

Once I graduated grade school I went to a public school, given the choice from my parents, they would pay for Catholic H.S. if I would TRY hard. If not I could just go to public school. Well shit, if your offering me the easy way, lets go public.

I was in a school where your class was about 650+ students, average about 2600 students. A mix of the preppy kids with money from the West side, the lower income kids from the East side, and then us middle class kids. Let's just say I was open to new idea's, excited to move on, grade school was great but I wanted to make new friends, and maybe be cool for once in my life. (going from my safe little Catholic school to was myself and 5 other kids. Mix the 6 of us into 2600 other people, and let's just say I didn't see my old friends much)

I was overwhelmed by the kids, but welcoming to the different styles, cliques, and people around me. Let's move to my first day at lunch. I went through the line wondering if I could find an empty table to sit at. Wondering if someone would invite me over. I leave the line and find a table near the door, there is an Chinese girl sitting there, she looks up and smiles, she asks me to sit with her. Fun, a new friend, she reminded me of my pen pal from China I had when I was younger. This girls name was Yi. She had a friend to sit with us, Isidra, she was hispanic. Isidra had a friend named Elicia, she was black. It was a mix of 4 races and from that day forward, I vowed to never use racial slurs again.

I spent my 4 years in H.S. making friends, meeting people with families from different coutries, and who spoke different languages, and had these great cultures. I had some white friends who still used the N word and it was dirtier then the smoking habits they had.

After H.S. I met Spaghetti, we had a discussion about the N word, and how he NEVER used it, and he explained his reasons. I fell in love with his reasons. And it made me a better person because of it. I then worked at a bank, and I met T. she was tall, beautiful, smart, and friendly. She had a great family, and was a wonderful people person.

T and I went out one night, to dance, drink and be friends.

Yea, that was me. The gap poster child, in my little black boots, jeans and sweater. T was a stylish girl who had helped me get ready, gave me rules about boys, and showed me how to dance (not like a white girl)

She gave me her cell number, and after a few months of hanging out, and being introduced to her friends as her girl, I decided to tell her.

I asked her to go into the bankers office with me where we worked, and it wouldn't take long. We sat, and she seemed scared. I said this may be dumb to you, but here it goes. I told her I valued her friendship, and I wanted her to know it ment more to me then she knew. She opened my eyes, and taught me to value people as people. Not as a color. I told her that she was the first black person I had talked to on the phone, rode in a car with, and socially hung out with.

When Spaghetti and I were planning our wedding one of his groomsman backed out, due to expense of travel plans. We could be uneven in numbers, but Spaghetti suggested his co-worker B. I said sure. I was nervous around B, he was a big black guy, and was a bit thug is, known for being a playa, of playa's. I was excited about him being in the bridal party though, he showed me again, not to judge.

A funny side story, B invited us to his wedding a few months later, and Spaghetti and I were the ONLY white people there. Let me tell you if no one noticed, they sure did when we were doing the Cha cha slide, and I was the only one who did the confused head turn when everyone did the Charlie Brown. To make it more obvious, they made the d.j. replay the song, so they could all teach me the Charlie Brown. Mind you each time I am at wedding of mostly white people, I proudly do the Charlie Brown to this song.

I have friends that I scrapbook with. I meet with them. And after the 3 black girls leave, they often let the N word slip. I was floored.

Floored.

These are the girls that are SUPER Christians, and way ANTI swearing, and it confused me that they said this. They laughed at me and said some people don't get it. I guess I don't. I still see them, but after hearing the N, word and other nightly discussions of how gays are delusional people that are just gross. I still attend meetings, and events, but just not so much hanging out afterwards. Now let me state that they all know how I feel, and that I am offended by them, some of them say I am silly, but a few say that we should agree to disagree, and that they like me because I stand up for what I believe in. Even if we don't agree.

I grew up with everyone saying, let's be color blind. Sure let's all be black and white, or gray? Nope. I like something else I heard. Let's NOT be color blind. Let's see everyones colors, and embrace the differences that we all have. Realize we are all human.

I love having friends of all races, I am slighlty bothered that I live in a small country village of 98% white people. That they are mostly conservative, republicans, who are afraid of having any other race in town, for it will go down in value. I loved it when my new neighbor moved in and she is a hispanic, single mom with two beautiful children, fathered by a white guy, but she's now dating a black guy. I love it. I think she almost cried when I told her to come hang out on our deck so we could meet her boyfriend. She said I was the first neighbor to speak to her. She's lived her for almost 2 years. We agree on hip hop music, and said when the neighbors blast their country crap from their garages we should blast a bit of Kanye their way.

I vow to make it my mission to make sure my children understand other races, cultures, and lifestyles. That they judge only after they get to know someone. I take it upon myself and Spaghetti to teach them this.

So Happy MLK day everyone. Thank you MLK for opening my eyes, so Spaghetti and I can teach our children to respect others. Thank you.

Funky Pity Party

I am funky.


No not the smelly kind, well I do need a shower. But that's not what I mean.


I mean I am in a funk. I just can't shake it.


I need to get out of it. I need to clean up the house for Weaky's birthday party tomorrow.


Had my Starbucks fix. Three times today. (once from my coffee pot at 6:30 am, then from the grocery store bottle, then the actual Starbucks itself) No good coffee buzz, just some good system cleaning.


I guess my funk is from Weakys birthday.


Not because my baby boy is turning 1. But because of all the people we invited, some family some close friends. There were just ALOT of no's.


I know, I know, the economy, and when work calls, getting paid is what you need to do. But I just get bummed. It seemed to be more and more no's. And not just family, but friends. Lots of friends.


Friends that you went to there kids stuff. And maybe that sounds mean, like I assume you would attend my kids stuff. But unless it's work (I totally understand Mudd, not you) and you just say your busy, or something came up? Really?


I mean I have toted my two kids by MYSELF, to events. Snowy day events. Cold ass windy day events. Just me, a two year old and a baby. On Spaghetti's birthday night, we drove an HOUR out of the way to see our friends kid for about 30 minutes on his birthday. then BACK to town for a show.


I mean maybe I try to hard? Maybe I am just not social enough? Maybe this is a sign. That moving to Nashville wouldn't really affect to many people.


Yeah, yeah. Pity party for one. Feisty's the only one invited.


I am thankful for my family, and Spaghetti's family. And for my dear friends who are coming. But when you get seven different friends that call and say "no" it hurts just a bit.


But as long as my Weaky Man is there. I am the happiest mommy ever. I hope this post is a vent to my pity party, and I can move on. I have lots o' house work to do for tomorrow's festivities.


So my pity party is over. It was fun and everyone I invited was there. Alright, alright, I am rambling... gatta go. More posts to do... still needs to clean!!

Saturdays Secret. Your forgiven.

It's been a while since I have done a "Saturdays Secret" and so I think I will do one on how forgiving I am of others. NOW do not get it confused with me forgetting. I don't. And I am less trusting.


I forgive you if you owe me money, small amount, forgetting to pay me and we are all tight and shit. But I don't forget. I don't lend you money, anymore.

I forgive the ignorant comments about my height, my ever so glowing white skin, and my silly antics that are goofy. I just don't talk to you any more.

I forgive the complete stranger who cuts me off in a store, when they quickly turn and smile and appologize. The smile and appology is what did it. I've been in that hurry before.

I forgive the people closest to me for things they may say, or have done in the past. I CAN not be mad for long. I want it to be over and move on. I will apologize when I am wrong, AND I have been known to apologize when I am not wrong just to make amends.


I don't think life is long enough to go on being mad, or holding a grudge forever. Mind you if I don't call you or if you think I may have lost your number, it's probably a good guess that I was hurt by you.


Those closest to me. Those who are SO close to me I can't just ignore them for a week till I can cool off. Those people I tend to just brush it off. Chalk it up. And just try not to get in the same situation again. Usually minor, so no bother.


I just don't like when people can't do the same.


I guess I just wish we were all the same on some levels. Like when your mad, and I'm mad. And we just call it even. Wanna talk it out? Sure. But at least attempt to be sorry.


When people are never sorry for there moods. Or sorry for what they say. Because they were never wrong, so why say sorry? Because maybe you were hurtful. Maybe you misjudged the situation and now you won't right the wrong? Maybe if you just took yourself out of your self centered world and looked at it from my point of view? Then are you sorry?


Get over yourself. We are all human. Suck it up and apologize. And MOVE ON. Simple as that.


I forgive people. Not because I am religious and it's the "right" thing to do. Or because I will feel better later. But because I just don't want it lingering in my head.


I forgive. I move on.


Why can't you?

F you Friday

F you to the slap in the face (litterly) I got tonight from the person that I had a GREAT day with. The person that made me proud to do my job as a mom. The person I wake for, feed, dance with, sing with, read too, dress, bathe, and the other zillion things I do for you. Only to have you slap me because you don't want to go to bed? Fuck that.

F you to the diaper makers. Or the dick wagons who price them. I KNOW it can't cost you $20 a box. Or even remotely close to it. But for some fucking reason I need to shell out a SHIT load of money just to cover my kids asses. Fuck that.

F you to the douche bag that spamed my email address. I am STILL getting magazine subscription in the mail. I do enjoy the free ones until I need to AGAIN "return to sender, did not request" sometimes 6 invoices a day. Fuck that.

F you to my *retarded* cousin. Nope not really mentally challenged. But when you are pissed off at your EX girlfriend/baby mamma, the right thing to do is NOT to go get piss drunk at 2 in the afternoon, drive your car into her BOYFRIENDS car, leave, come back then drive the car INTO THE HOUSE. But it gets better, you then wait for the now PISSED off boyfriend (who is bigger then you, and sober) to come outside and beat your ass. Broke your ribs. AND then you have the balls to want to press charges?!?!? WTF?!? But the best part is you just had court today. The judge sentenced you. You should have taken whatever he gave you. But your *Sofa King! We Todd did*, that you then tell the judge, very loudly, "FUCK YOU." ...Do you wonder why your in prison till end of June? Fuck that.

F you to someone special. That one person in my life that knows me, gets me. And still 10 years later is NEVER wrong in an argument. Really? Did you think talking to me like I was a drill Sargent was funny? That making fun of me because I went to tell you to stop getting the kid all rilled up, right before bed, and realized AFTER telling you to stop. That it wasn't you. But she was still just loudly laughing. Hmmm. Maybe because you do it that often? And because I then need to attempt to put her to bed like that? (see the first F you) Yes I am strict with the kids getting riled up at night. I am also going to become REALLY FUCKING strict about hitting/rough housing whatever. I DON'T care WHO it is too. She is MY daughter. And I have to deal with her 95% of the time. Other people letting her "Play fight" is NOT going to FLY. EVER. DO NOT mock me. DO NOT be a childish asshole. I apologized two times, too many. Your turn. Give it a fucking try for once. Fuck that.

Ahhhh. Now after I explain my *comments* I can go to bed.

*retarded* I have explained this before and I will do it again. I say retarded alot. Alot less with the kids around. But still when need be, I say it.

Now for the definition of "retarded" to me...

Retarded, or Tard is a person of perfectly good mental health. AND they are completely idiotic in the sense that they are just plain retarded. Sigh... now I in NO means want this to come across that I think that mentally challenged people are idiots. I just think that perfectly good people that do stupid things get the title "retarded" Family or not. (I use this on myself often) and using the "I came from a fucked up family" is getting old too. Seriously? Your 40. Move on.

Whatever. It's fucking late. I don't care. It's my blog. Hate me if you want to. Leave me a evil comment. I will just delete it. And as we all know. This is my blog, my opinion SO I say what I want too. Got it? Good. Moving on.

*Sofa King! We Todd did* if you don't get it have someone say that line out loud fast to you. Don't try it yourself. It's harder to get. Just go have someone else say it. Probably not a kid, or your boss. So to do it right, or I guess the funniest way is to write this down and have them read it aloud... "I am so we Todd did. I am sofa king! We Todd did.

Still offended? Thought so. But if you just had a Fuck you Friday. You should get my mood. Oh and I totally see why people drink. I just don't care to so I wallow my sad ass in a bath tub with a book. Or I hide in my art room. Can't wait till the weather is nice. I will be in the garden... now I just need a bath tub in my art room, and a secret door to my garden...

Meenie Weenie

Sorry...

So Sorry...

Really, really sorry...

Yep, sorry to you too...

And again. I am sorry.

I am sorry for being a Meenie Weenie.

I am mean, and bitter. More then I should be. I yell at Bagel for just stupid things. Like her demanding I change her sippy from water to milk and back again. I don't yell yell. But I get angry, and tell her not now. I should read with you more. I do try at least once a day. And I do teach you colors, and counting, and shapes... I try damn it... your just so much energy and if you don't have a nap then from 7 am till 7 pm is 12 hours of high strung, whiny, and boss toddler! I do need to just stop and breathe... when I get mad at you I will just punish you with kisses and hugs. I know you hate Time Out but you can NOT keep trying to make Weaky wear a box for a hat. And Dong doesn't like it when you punch her in the head. Sigh... Bagel...

I don't yell at Weaky. I just don't play with him as much as I should. And he is ALWAYS last, in the morning he is the first one up, but most of the time I get Spaghetti off to work, feed the dogs, and cats, get Bagel up and fed, then I am finally able to feed Weaky. (ok, I am last then.) And I need to NOT depend on your sister to be your entertainment, she is almost 3, but she is in NO way able to be left with you for more then a minute. (she's getting to the point where she doesn't realize what she is doing to Weaky could hurt him! I need to make more time for you and me little man.

Thing 1 and Thing 2, well they get my attention when I feed them... um and when I shoo them from my desk chair... oh and when I clean out there litter box... sorry bout the neglect girls...

Ding and Dong... they are not so bad. The barking is less and less, and the destroying of toys, remotes, phones, books... well that could be because we took ANYTHING possible for you to destroy and made it out of your reach could be why the destruction rate is slowing. But I am sorry for not playing ball as much as I used to... when the weather gets nice (we did today!) I try to at least spend an 1/2 hour to an hour with you a day.

Spaghetti.

I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I have been so bitter, snappy, and just plain mean to you and everyone else in our house. I know I say my job is hard. And that you do work 3 jobs, and this is my job. But like I told you, it's hard for me when you don't complain, you don't take anything out on anyone else. I know I am lucky to have you, but it's hard to keep up when your always so good to me.

I know you work 3 jobs. But the house work, the dogs, the cats, the kids, the banking, the yard, the everything in between! It's just insane, and I think I hit the nail on the head.

This job. The SAHM job is the hardest. Why? Because there is no boss. You are your own boss.

So I have to be disciplined enough to make myself a list of things to do. And do them, all while tending to the kids, pets, phone calls, and everything I do around here. I must say I SUCK at being my own boss. I slack, I am lazy, I would rather blog, poke around on Facebook, or just go to the art room, before I fold all that laundry that is clean, or wash the 5 that are waiting for me to wash!

Sure take away the computer. I will just find a book to read, or zone out with bad afternoon t.v. programing.

I am trying to organize the house. Declutter. And get rid of SO much for the garage sale coming up. I want what you want Spaghetti.

I want to walk into a house where it's picked up (I know, spotless is not happening) the dishes are done, and the kids are happy. Where it's livable around here.

The clutter, the bills the ALL day kids, it stresses me out, to the point where as soon as someone finally comes home, the get the brunt of my stress.

And sadly for the last 4 months that is you. Now I want to change, and be a happier wife, a nicer mom, and you will be doing your Wrigley season, where your gone more of the week then home.

I hope when you are home I am a decent person to be around. Not the angry spaz that yells or bitches about everything. The last person on the planet I should be angry at is you. You take my crap and I am happy that you told me today how you feel.

I will try to be a better person. Not just for you, the kids and the fuzzies. But for me too.

I love you Spaghetti Mc, Bagel, Weaky, Thing 1 and 2, and my Ding and Dong. I love you lots.

Muah.

Your Feisty Mommy and Wife.

Play by play. Gramma M's Day.

(Gramma with Weaky (1 month) Grampa, Aunt Donna and Bagel, April 08)

The night before the diaper bag was packed, clothes were dry cleaned, and ironed. Stroller was packed, and everything was ready to go.





The next morning we both woke before the alarm went off 6:45 , showered, dressed, and ate breakfast as a family. Take a deep breath and drive to the Funeral home.








We were the first ones there. Before the any of the on time people. First. This is huge, and if you know how Spaghetti and I run, we are ALWAYS late. And now with kids we are even more late. We are trying to get things ready the night before, so the day of, we are good to go. Our moment of early lasted about 1 minute and everyone else arrived.








We had a 9 am family moment. The wake wasn't to start till 9:30. We gathered inside the lobby area. Grampa and the daughters went first. Spaghetti and I were first of the cousins to see Gramma. We then gathered around a large digital picture frame, and watched a picture slide of Gramma over the years. With the song "Tears in Heaven" playing. Grampa watched it often that day.








I think for me, for Spaghetti, for anyone, the two hardest things that day, were dealing with the fact that a brain aneurysms was the cause, and that we had no time to say goodbye. Mind you if it's your time to go, I would say pull my card fast like a band aid, I don't want to suffer, but it was just so hard that it was so sudden.





And probably the hardest thing to deal with was knowing that Grampa will be alone. I know I have posted about how they were best friends, lovers, and soul mates for over 67 years. And Grampa repeatedly told us all how Gramma did everything for him. He has never turned on the stove, or used the microwave. We had to write him out directions. He has never ironed clothes, or done laundry. Gramma did it all.








He was so lost on Friday. It crushed me to see him so lost, and so alone, even though he couldn't have been surrounded by more loved ones. His 4 daughters, there husbands, his 8 grandchildren and myself and Loren too. His 7 great grandchildren. His sister, and her family, and Gramma being the oldest of 9 brothers and sisters, I do believe there were 6 present along with there families. My family came, and so many friends of family too. But as you looked around the room you saw couples together. My mother-in-law had my father-in-law, I had Spaghetti. Grampa was alone.








After 3 hours of family and friends, we all sat for a beautiful song, played on guitar by Loren (Spaghetti's cousin, Nikki's husband) Donna, Spaghetti's Aunt, went up and did a beautiful talk. Started out by saying how much we would miss Gramma, but quickly went to the happy memories of Gramma. And the ones she remembered of her mom and dad together.


The one I remember best was when Gramma and Grampa would eat dinner, they would always have a glass of wine. They would look at each other, and clink glasses, it was a sign of there love for each other.





After Aunt Donna's talk, the priest was up. He started with saying that we are strangers, he did not know our family, and his frankness won me over. He spoke about how each morning he walks a path in the garden at his church, and has "Spiritual Coffee" with his mom, dad and brother (he mentioned he lost his parents 23 years ago. He only looked in his 40's. He seems to have a past of loss) He spoke about what he saw that day, and how it was obvious that Gramma had left behind an amazing family. But the best part was he recited a famous poem. He didn't read it, he knew it very well by heart. And when he said the words, he said them well. He put the meaning into this poem. It's very good, and makes you think...

I read of a man who stood to speak at a funeral of his friend.

He referred to the dates on her tombstone

from beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth and spoke of the second with tears,

but he spoke that what mattered most of all

was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all that time

that she spent alive here on earth

and now only those who love her

know what this little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;

the cars, the house, the cash.

What matters most is how we live and love

and how we spend our dash.

Do think about this long and hard, Are there things you' like to change?

For you'll never know how much time is left....

So when you're eulogy is being read

with you lives actions rehashed...

would you be pleased with the things they have to say

and how you spent your dash?

By Linda Ellis

Loren played Guitar again, and sang some Beetles songs, as all the friends left, with family too. Then all was left was Grampa, and his daughters, there husbands, and the grandchildren, and greatgrandchildren. It was time to say your final goodbyes to Gramma.





This for me is the hardest part. Because I know I will never physically see her again. Spaghetti and I stood (my parents took the kids up for me, and had them in the lobby waiting) up there, we cried. Loren and Nikki, then Gail and her daughters, and Joe, and Tony with Colin. We all stood. We cried. Before walking away, I put my hand on the casket, and said "Thank you Gramma, we love you so much." Colin (just 2) then said "goodnight gramma, bye bye" we sadly walked away.





Spaghetti was a paul bearer (sp?) along with his cousins, I walked out with Grampa on my arm. We loaded everyone into the cars, lined up for the very long drive to the cemetery. Grampa was in the Army, so Gramma will be buried at Abraham Lincoln Memorial Cemetery. It is about 45 minutes away, but since funerals processions don't take the high way, it took us about an hour and 20 minutes.





The ceremony was under a pavilion, and I know that place to well (my Aunt was buried there 3 years ago, and my Uncle died of a broken heart soon after, passing this last July. My uncle was in the Navy) with it being a wife, there was no military personal there. There were so many people that came out to the cemetery. Grampa was happy to see that over 25 cars were in line!








The ceremony was the Spaghetti's cousin Tony, he recited a poem he wrote about Gramma. Loren then sang a beautiful song he had written last week about Gramma, called "No more tears in Arizona" we first thought with the title of the song, he would have done a remake of "Tears in Heaven" but it wasn't even close! It was so much better, and the words fit perfectly. Thanks to Loren for taking the time to write that song.





We ended with a prayer read by the cousins, and us spouses. It was short, thanking Gramma for everything she did, and to give us the courage to move on. After everyone left, just the immediate family was there. We gathered around the casket one more time. All of us with our hands on top. Spaghetti's Aunt Nancy then thanked her mom, for this wonderful family we have.








The paul bearers then took her to the car. We all loaded up again, and they drove us to the site where she will be buried. We all sat in our cars (just the 6 cars now) in silence. Watching them put Gramma in her final resting place.








It was a good thing the to the cemetery and back were so long. You could compose yourself, for the next event. We went to a restaurant. There was so many people there, and they didn't have room for all of us (they had 1 head table for 8! There was at least 25 of us!) So they had to open the doors, to the room, and we flooded into the dining room. It was a great meal, and general conversation was held.





Afterwards, we went back to the funeral home for the flowers, and cards to take back to Grampas house. (he lives just a block from the funeral home) Once inside, I was first in, everyone was starting to bring all these HUGE floral arrangements in. Grampa told me he wanted nothing to do with the flowers (and I can't blame him. He wouldn't know what to do with them, and it would only remind him more) so the lined the front porch, down the stairs, to the sidewalk. I took the one from my parents, and the one from my MIL's work (it was HUGE! a basket about 3 feet long, by 2 feet wide and 3 feet high! It had a huge ivy (about 8 feet long, once I unwrapped it from the basket) an Azalea bush, and a mix of beautiful green plants) I gave them all water and a good home. I also took a vase of beautiful Hydrangea's, palms and orange Gerber Daisy's. (yes I love gardening, and worked at a florist for 2 years)








We sat around, talking, visiting, the kids played, we all made small talk. When leaving the funeral home, they gave an audio CD of the speakers, and songs that were at the wake. And a DVD copy of the slide show. We watched and listened. Grampa stayed away, with his son-in-laws, and great grandchildren.





We planned our trip to see Nikki and Loren in Nashville, I think early April.





Aunt Judy spent the night that night, all the sisters were rotating nights, since it happened. He is now on his own. My MIL is close by, so she drives him where he needs to go, and helps him out. His other daughters are not far either.





This will be hard, and I can't say I know how long Grampa will be around. He too is 88, and with a broken heart, it's hard to say.





I did forget to mention. That during the wake. I noticed Grampa alone at the casket. I went up and wrapped my arm around his. We stood in silence. He looked at me and said "she did it all. I can't even make a sandwich by myself" I told him "You and Gramma set one great example for all of us. If Spaghetti and I could have half of what you and Gramma did..." he then looked over his shoulder at Spaghetti near by with his mom, smiled, looked at me and said with tears in his eyes, "Oh you will." then he looked back at his wife, placed his hand on the casket, and said "I miss you. It won't be long. We will be together again soon"








I know with Spaghetti as my husband, my best friend, and the one I go to for everything. I can see us having what they had.








After leaving Grampa's house, we were home around 9:30 that night. We had one hell of a long day, full of emotion and sadness. I am glad it was a long one day event, I don't think Grampa or any of us could have handled two days of that.





Rest in peace Gramma M. you will be greatly missed here.





Love you.


Spaghetti, Fesity, Bagel and Weaky.


xo...

How do you deal?

My question is how do you deal? With the loss of a loved one.


From previous posts this week. You have learned that Spaghetti's awesome Gramma passed away Saturday.


She was in Arizona at her winter home, and everyone is flying back home tomorrow, the wake and funeral are not until Friday. It's hard having to wait all week. It's weird, I want Friday to never happen, but I also just want to get it over with.


It's going to be one of those days.


The day where the Kleenex company cashes in, because there will not be a dry eye in that place. I am not looking forward to seeing so many family members upset. And even though it's Spaghetti's family, it's amazing what 10 years of life together will build with these people.


People I once passed on the street, are now some of my closest family members. I can't think of what to say to my Mother IL, I watched my own mom cry 18 years ago when she had to bury her mom. Everyone was SO close to Gramma. It will be a very melancholy day.


So back to the question at hand. How do you deal?


I have a routine. I didn't really realize I did until this week. In just the past 2 years I have lost my own Gramma (who died at 90!), my Aunt (who died too young of alcohol abuse) and my Uncle in July, (who died of a broken heart, and alcohol abuse) so the past few years it seems that I have attended more then my fair share of wakes, and funeral.


Routine?
I hold it in. At first. Just till I am alone. I need at least an hour to myself. I need my iPod. I think up Friday. I think up worst case scenarios, I think up situations that won't happen, fights with random strangers, I mumble to myself, I swing at imaginary anger. I cry. I sob. I get it out.


I know it's my way of coping with things. It's my way of expressing my insane thoughts, and I get them out with imaginary people, random places, and random thoughts.


It's like pretend I guess. I have been doing this since I was a kid. From boombox, to tape player, to CD player, to radio and now to iPod. It's my escape, it's my sanity saver.


Not saying that is makes Friday any easier. It doesn't but for days that there is just to much in my head. I will take the iPod, take me time, get up hours earlier, dance, cry, fight, and mumble to myself.


This is my therapy. I love my music, it let's me escape to places and deal with things in a way I don't think I could in reality.

The above. That should be categorized in a Saturday Secret post. NO ONE has ever known about it. No one.

But you now.


It helps. I just did it. Playing out imaginary anger at random strangers, crying over thoughts of Gramma. Still I held some in, now with kids and a crazy busy day ahead, I can't have a boo hoo headache all day. But it was a release of some sort.


I also have to share that I don't just do it for death. I do it for everything, a situation where I will see old friends, or a party that I am excited about, maybe a family function I am dreading. It's just anything I need to preplay out in my head and my music helps me do that.


So again my question is. What do you do to deal with a crazy stressful situation... just curious...

That one last...

This story is about the man on the left. Edward.

(the handsome guy on the right is my dad, Carrots)

The man on the left, well... he just had the worst day of his life today. At 9:30 this morning, his best friend, love of his life, and mother to his 4 daughters, mother-in-law to 4 son-in-laws, 7 grandchildren, 3 grandchildren-in-law? and 8 great grandchildren.

This morning in Arizona, one life stopped. And even though all our lives continue, we are at that bump in life... where you look around wondering what is important, what next, can we go on? How do we do what we did everyday when someone so important is missing from that?

The story that has been told of this morning events... is while the family sat around the hospital room, Edward never left her side. He held her hand, and said "Come on girl, just open your eyes. We can go home" but she never opened her eyes again.

That one last kiss goodnight.

The one last morning.

The one last breakfast.

The one last walk together.

The one last conversation.

The one last lunch.

Trying everything you can to save your best friend. The one that you spend every waking moment with for the last 65 plus years...

She was that one person. The glue. The person that hosted everything, and I hate when that person goes. And then things stop... events stop... people stop calling... it's happened before... I hope the sisters are close enough. I hope that us grandkids can keep it going.

I know life goes on. I am blessed that I spent the last 10 years with her. I am glad I was able to see a couple who loved each other endlessly, who were still in bowling leagues, and walked the mall daily. Who still held hands, and and made me a firm believer that true love does exist.

But how does one go on, with a broken heart?

I am sorry Grampa. The love you had for Gramma was amazing. Today was a horrible day for you. I know Friday at the wake will be another horrendous day for you too.

I am thankful for my 10 years knowing Spaghetti's Gramma. She was fun, quiet, and sweet. I loved her as my own Gramma. I am lucky that she was able to enjoy and love both Bagel and Weaky. I will keep her memory alive, and talk about her. Just like there other Great Grandparents.

My heart hurts, but the memories make it feel better. I had an amazing last Thanksgiving with Gramma. I was able to show her what I do. I shared with her my love of papercrafting. I shared with her my parents, and they shared their home and dinner. It was our one-on-one time with Gramma and Grampa and it was a wonderful day.

We are lucky to have had Gramma in our lives as long as we did. I can only hope to cherish and keep every memory of my family members, to share with Bagel and Weaky, and future generations.

To Gramma.

Be sure to say "hi" to my Gramma W, Gramma A, and Grampa Batista for me. I know we now have an another angel up there watching over us. I miss you terribly... kisses to heaven...

Thanks Blogger, for letting me get this out. I needed that... breathe... sob... breathe...

Thanks to the man upstairs.

As I sit at the kitchen table this morning, over breakfast...

I look to my right and see a little boy, 8 months old, asleep, because 5:30 am and all morning banging my ribbon holder against the wall, drinking juice, and watching Barney with Bagel will tire a little boy out.

I look down to the two sleeping boxer, my girls follow us where ever they can, just wanting to be near us, and in the action of the day.

I look across the table. At a beautiful 2 year, 7 months, and 1 day old girl. Blonde hair up in a messy pony tail, eating scrambled eggs, and banana's with buttered toast on the side. You stop and look at me and watch me eat my sunny side up eggs on toast. I can see the wheels turning, as you take your toast, and place your scrambled eggs in the middle.

You gently fold the toast in half and say "just like my mommy" As I dip my toast to soak up the run off egg yolk, you mock me and pretend to do the same.

As I look at Weaky, sleeping in his chair, my two big girls asleep on the floor, and the Tinkerbell pajama'd little girl across from me. I sigh, realizing how amazingly perfect my life is.

You look up at me across the table, and smile. You say "Love you mom"

"I love you too"

Days like today.

Days that are simple.

Days that are calm, and just happy. Me and my babies. I couldn't be in a better place right now.

And lots of thanks to the man upstairs. The man upstairs sleeping in my bed. The man who works 2 sometimes 3 jobs. All for me to stay home, and to raise our babies the way we want them raised.

I love this life we have created. And I am lucky to be in it.

Happy.

Happy.

About lots of things. I told Spaghetti so today.

I am happy about...

My beautiful daughter. Her amazing energy and spirit.

My handsome and smiley son. I love his curiosity for everything.

My husband. The one who talks, listens, and just is himself no matter what. I want to thing I remind him to just be him around me. The other day he turned on the iPod and we fast danced, laughing and jumping around the pool room. It was amazing. Reminding me of how lucky we are.

My home. The home I work to keep clean, and somewhat organized or on the track to it. That we have made our 2 story, 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath, house into a 3 story home, using the whole basement space as a t.v. room and art room. And in the summer we live out on our big deck. (sorry for you west coasters with no basements, it's a tornado thing) I love how it's ours, and what we love to call home.

I am happy with our pets, our 4 fuzzy little people. The make our days and our lives much brighter.

Thanks to good friends who support and enjoy spending time with me. To Aerial who is more of a sister to me, the one person who gets me.

To my parents, sister and Spaghetti's parents. Family is always first with me. You are amazing and supportive to us.

I am not rich, I am not skinny, I am not the brightest candle on the cake. But I am happy with what I have, and who I surround myself with.

With this I am happy.