paint-so i don't ruin the hardwood
van-tek and wall
ceiling cover
tub
we have worked so hard
cabinets and sink
bigger sink
i get a lump in my throat
stove
removal of old chimney
some dry wall repair
hardwood
windows
without him i couldn't have done any of this
more paint
maybe by christmas we'll be there
maybe not
new door
furniture
rugs
lamps
curtains
us
Friday, June 19, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
payin your dues
Sunday at chuch our daughter, Drew, who is recently 5 years old takes an interest in the offering plate. To me this is lesson, I love this lesson and take ecery oppurtunity to teach it.
I am "pay it forwarder". My mom does not understand this term and no matter how many times I explain it to her she doesn't grasp it. When I use this term I have no auto-definition it to her. Goes like this:
Me- Yeah, and I told him to pay it forward and it will work out.
Her- Pay it forward, I've heard you say that before, what does it mean again?
Me- To do the right thing, to give someone more tahn they deserve so that they may make the world a better place, it's like a positive triangle scheme.
Her- Joy, really you just make this stuff up.
Me- Mom, No there was a movie, you should watch it. Then it will all click.
Mom- There you go again- click, what does that mean?
Ok, I have to give her credit, she is a teacher after all.
Anyway, i've interuppted myself.
Drew wants a dollar to put in the offering plate on this particular Sunday, the first one I remember her wanting to participate. So we give her a dollar and I lean down to whisper that when the plate goes by she needs to put in her dollar.
Her face goes to pout mode and she says, "But it's mine."
I tell her if you give it to God he will give you more than that back. I tell her God works like that, all you have to do is show God you have faith that he will bless you and trust him to do it.
She watched the plate and places her precious dollar inside.
Once the men are gone carrying the plate she looks up at me and says, "He didn't even give me nothing back and I am mad at him."
Sunday, June 7, 2009
wierd neighbors
We finally bought the house. "The House" is named this because it took us a battle of red tape to buy. Being a foreclosure brought us alot of hardship, six months worth to be exact. We know that we would be absolutley the most blessed humans alive if we are able to be in the house by december of this year, it needs alot of work and effort and time invested in it and LOTS of money. So the house has been nicknamed this because it has been such a hurdle to us.
Today while raking up piles and piles of cut jungle strewn about the "yard" ( and by yard I mean total and utter caos)the neighbor comes out of her house and says she has a leaf blower we can use if we need to. This niceness is so odd to me because this is a lady that has not spoken to us. She nor her husband even bothered to wave at us while we sat on the porch for hours while inspection after inspection occured. They have had this silent approach that I do not understand. Our nature is different than thiers. As in we are Andy Griffeth and they are Rosanne Bar.
I say thanks and ask about the property line. She says that it has always been a "community yard" ( does this term even exsist?), they have mowed it even though it wasn't thiers and in return have used it as thier own when they wanted to. I told her we wanted to fence it in, she says "Do what you want but that is kinda silly cause then you'd have all this to mow..."
I have a feeling these people and us will not mix well. I am from the land where you stay on yours and we stay on ours and no one gets hurt. They tend to party here and there and we tend to go to bed at 8pm here and there. Two kids-full time student-full time job-newlyweds-and lots of home improvement makes us very tired. We will not appreciate being woke up at 2 am to a yard full of drunken bafoons.
I hate this sorta situation, it was one reason we bought instead of rented.
Today while raking up piles and piles of cut jungle strewn about the "yard" ( and by yard I mean total and utter caos)the neighbor comes out of her house and says she has a leaf blower we can use if we need to. This niceness is so odd to me because this is a lady that has not spoken to us. She nor her husband even bothered to wave at us while we sat on the porch for hours while inspection after inspection occured. They have had this silent approach that I do not understand. Our nature is different than thiers. As in we are Andy Griffeth and they are Rosanne Bar.
I say thanks and ask about the property line. She says that it has always been a "community yard" ( does this term even exsist?), they have mowed it even though it wasn't thiers and in return have used it as thier own when they wanted to. I told her we wanted to fence it in, she says "Do what you want but that is kinda silly cause then you'd have all this to mow..."
I have a feeling these people and us will not mix well. I am from the land where you stay on yours and we stay on ours and no one gets hurt. They tend to party here and there and we tend to go to bed at 8pm here and there. Two kids-full time student-full time job-newlyweds-and lots of home improvement makes us very tired. We will not appreciate being woke up at 2 am to a yard full of drunken bafoons.
I hate this sorta situation, it was one reason we bought instead of rented.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
enough already
He was, at one time a nice guy. Some may have considered him a catch. I am watching him self destruct from a safe distance. I am in a bomb shelter- protected- nothing he does will harm me.
Yet I witmess his slow and painful downfall.
He is no longer permitted to see our- and by our I mean my husbands and mine- daughter. He helped in her creation yet he will never be her Daddy. As of this week and rumors of track marks emerge and suicide treats, he is no longer going to see her. As long as I can help it. She will forget him.
His mother is upset. His sisters are going to be angry that I will not interview to win him a free stay in rehab. I married him for the second time after his first stint in rehab. I thought he had changed. I personaly helped him through 3 other programs, two he lived in, one outpatient. I had two children in diapers to take care of while he dissappeared for days on end, after these supposed rehabilitations.
I just can't help anymore. I had held the towel to his nose when it bled rivers from his torment. I have forced him to eat. I went to the gym when he could no longer sexually maintain, thinking it was because I was too fat to stimulate him. I have protected my children from him- using my body as a shield. I have watched him induce wars on his own body that I cannot imagine ever waging on my own. I refuse to help anymore, he is not worth my effort.
I will not feel guilty about my decision. My husband, who had spent days repairing damage the first man did to me, says it is my choice. I tell him it is not just my choice. It is our choice, she is our daughter now, we are in this together. He agrees and hangs his head and tells me he never wants her to go there, he wishes we had kept her away sooner.
Yet I ask myself, am I being fair?
He is her genetic donor, should she know him for better or for worse? Do all parents ask themselves are they making the right choice for thier child?
Yet I witmess his slow and painful downfall.
He is no longer permitted to see our- and by our I mean my husbands and mine- daughter. He helped in her creation yet he will never be her Daddy. As of this week and rumors of track marks emerge and suicide treats, he is no longer going to see her. As long as I can help it. She will forget him.
His mother is upset. His sisters are going to be angry that I will not interview to win him a free stay in rehab. I married him for the second time after his first stint in rehab. I thought he had changed. I personaly helped him through 3 other programs, two he lived in, one outpatient. I had two children in diapers to take care of while he dissappeared for days on end, after these supposed rehabilitations.
I just can't help anymore. I had held the towel to his nose when it bled rivers from his torment. I have forced him to eat. I went to the gym when he could no longer sexually maintain, thinking it was because I was too fat to stimulate him. I have protected my children from him- using my body as a shield. I have watched him induce wars on his own body that I cannot imagine ever waging on my own. I refuse to help anymore, he is not worth my effort.
I will not feel guilty about my decision. My husband, who had spent days repairing damage the first man did to me, says it is my choice. I tell him it is not just my choice. It is our choice, she is our daughter now, we are in this together. He agrees and hangs his head and tells me he never wants her to go there, he wishes we had kept her away sooner.
Yet I ask myself, am I being fair?
He is her genetic donor, should she know him for better or for worse? Do all parents ask themselves are they making the right choice for thier child?
Monday, June 1, 2009
that mom
Ok, I realize that at some point I have probably been "that" mom to someone, let's start off by saying that.
There is this mother of three at our church. She is younge, maybe 29-30, slender, shiny brown hair perfectly curled. None of this tight kinky curly, do what it wants to crap. I mean curly as in smooth curls- root to tip. Does she spend hours in the bathroom with a curling iron? What is her secret? I have personaly made my peace with my slightly abarigian do, it took alot of teasing- and not the comb to scalp stuff- from other kids growing up. Only in my mid twenties did I accept it was never gonna be straight or smooth.
But that is not the point.
Her makeup is seamless and perfect. Her outfits are all lovely and well thought out. She has shoes that match...match her purse even. How does one do this? How does one manage to do all the laundry in order to piece together a matching outfit?
Her husband works at a decent, but not decadent, job. She stays home with the kids. Two are school aged, this fall, and one will not be for two more years. They behave themselves. They look clean and dress nice. Let us put it this way, while I am telling my two to be quiet and licking the sticky sucker off of thier face and wiping snot and trying to find the crayons they dumped into the floor (even the ones under the next two seats back), She is singing hyms and holding thier smallest in her arms.
Some days I stare in amazement at her slim build, her flat tummy that doesn't look like she ever eats ice cream instead of dinner, right from the carton. I glare at her across the church, thinking that her house must be a wreck, surely she spent thirty minutes on her face, she couldn't possibly have time to sweep and dust and send them to school with thier homework.
Two summers ago after someone was baptisted I struck up a conversation with her hoping some of her "Cleaverness" would rub off onto me. She had a Vera Bradley Diaper Bag on her shoulder. I was a single mother at the time.
Me- I love your bag
Her- Thanks, he (insinuating husband) gets me a special gift for every child. -Here is also where they look at each other like a disney princess and prince, I look for birds to land on thier fingers.
Me- How nice.
Her- You know something silly and expensive- something I'd never buy for myself.
Me- Yeah...
Her- He's like that.
I was at church with my parents, I couldn't handle both of my kids alone during a service and they were both too small for the kid services provided.
Now I am married and he is great. He does as much work and play with our two kids as I do and we are crazy for each other. His job rarely allows a church service though. I still go with my folks and although now our kids are in childrens services nearly every sunday I still look at her and think....
Does make me wonder how she gets there- on time, none the less,- looking like she does.
Does anyone have suggestions on how to do this?
There is this mother of three at our church. She is younge, maybe 29-30, slender, shiny brown hair perfectly curled. None of this tight kinky curly, do what it wants to crap. I mean curly as in smooth curls- root to tip. Does she spend hours in the bathroom with a curling iron? What is her secret? I have personaly made my peace with my slightly abarigian do, it took alot of teasing- and not the comb to scalp stuff- from other kids growing up. Only in my mid twenties did I accept it was never gonna be straight or smooth.
But that is not the point.
Her makeup is seamless and perfect. Her outfits are all lovely and well thought out. She has shoes that match...match her purse even. How does one do this? How does one manage to do all the laundry in order to piece together a matching outfit?
Her husband works at a decent, but not decadent, job. She stays home with the kids. Two are school aged, this fall, and one will not be for two more years. They behave themselves. They look clean and dress nice. Let us put it this way, while I am telling my two to be quiet and licking the sticky sucker off of thier face and wiping snot and trying to find the crayons they dumped into the floor (even the ones under the next two seats back), She is singing hyms and holding thier smallest in her arms.
Some days I stare in amazement at her slim build, her flat tummy that doesn't look like she ever eats ice cream instead of dinner, right from the carton. I glare at her across the church, thinking that her house must be a wreck, surely she spent thirty minutes on her face, she couldn't possibly have time to sweep and dust and send them to school with thier homework.
Two summers ago after someone was baptisted I struck up a conversation with her hoping some of her "Cleaverness" would rub off onto me. She had a Vera Bradley Diaper Bag on her shoulder. I was a single mother at the time.
Me- I love your bag
Her- Thanks, he (insinuating husband) gets me a special gift for every child. -Here is also where they look at each other like a disney princess and prince, I look for birds to land on thier fingers.
Me- How nice.
Her- You know something silly and expensive- something I'd never buy for myself.
Me- Yeah...
Her- He's like that.
I was at church with my parents, I couldn't handle both of my kids alone during a service and they were both too small for the kid services provided.
Now I am married and he is great. He does as much work and play with our two kids as I do and we are crazy for each other. His job rarely allows a church service though. I still go with my folks and although now our kids are in childrens services nearly every sunday I still look at her and think....
Does make me wonder how she gets there- on time, none the less,- looking like she does.
Does anyone have suggestions on how to do this?
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