"My Person"

 

It's been a while since I've blogged. I haven't been in a "sharing" type of mood, but I wanted to take a moment to speak on a few things that have weighed heavy on my mind in the last few months. With Christmas fast approaching and the mind-numbing emotions that surround the Christmas holiday, I've been actively trying to hide from Christmas. Christmas embodies the spirit of innocence and family and the impending start of a new year and new beginnings. But for our family, Christmas is a sore reminder of things that are not new, things that will never change and things that will never be the same.

 

It's also a reminder that coming at the beginning of the year is something Keller's father and I never imagined in our entire lives we would have to endure together. The murder trial of our sweet baby boy. A public spectacle. A full display of the unimaginable, heinous murder of our 13 month old baby boy who we made together and loved together, our grief and heartache, our journey for justice.

Sitting at work a few months ago, I came across an article on Huffington Post. And while it pertained to the Michael Brown case, this isn't about the Michael Brown case. It was about what it's like to be a father who's lost a son due to the actions of another. This quote about Michael Brown's father struck a cord with me, particularly this:

"Brown reaches for a pack of Kools and heads out of the barber shop. As vocal as he has been in the year since his son was killed, he tells me there are lots of things he can't say. Things that stem from the anger and sorrow."

 

You want to talk about a force to be reckoned with? The quiet, calm man, the man of few words. That's what Keller's dad has embodied since day one. I'm the storm and he's the calm. While in the midst of this "storm" we're currently trying to survive, he's not shared much of his feelings publicly, or even privately. I sometimes wonder what he's really thinking. Is he really this calm and collected? Is he really okay? I'm not, I'm a freaking wreck. Have you ever been really "spinny" drunk and you have to place one foot off the bed and place it on solid ground to keep from spinning? He's my solid ground. He always has been.

Quiet. Calm. Collected. My rock. My steady voice. My pillar of strength in my moments of weakness. My understanding. My "I feel you." My "you're not alone." I can't even begin to imagine the thoughts he doesn't say out loud. But then there are rare moments he allows those feelings to emerge, when I least expect them, full of emotion, full of pain, sometimes rage and I realize in those profound moments that we're walking this journey side by side.

Being the woman I am, I have been somewhat vocal about my son's death, sometimes more than I should be. There are sad days, angry days, days of incredible rage, days of complete misunderstanding, and days of all of the above wrapped into one. I've not been shy about sharing those feelings with anyone willing to listen, even on social media for all to see. But he stands solid and calm. I don't know how he does it.

We've "done life" together for the past nine years and I can say with 100% certainty that I couldn't imagine "doing life" with anyone else. We're not "together." Our relationship is far from perfect. We're not perfect people. But we care deeply for each other and consciously make tremendous efforts to do the absolute best we can for each other. We have each other's back. We're on the same team. So many people have told me "I don't know how you guys do it, you make it look so easy." Well, it's not easy. It's hard as hell. But we still have a remaining child together that deserves our absolute best and we make every effort we can to give her our best every single day, together.

A lot can be said about a man who puts his family first before anything else in the world, even if that "family" sometimes includes the mother of his children who is occasionally far from his favorite person. But this man, my rock, my calm, my solid ground, is the embodiment of the strongest man I could ever imagine having the pleasure of knowing and I'm so thankful that no matter what circumstances have been thrown our way, he still stands firm in my corner, without judgment or malice in his heart. I am eternally grateful and forever indebted to him to be able to call him "my person." 

And also, he has the WORST singing voice when intoxicated. He's not just "off key," there's "no key."

 

Shit My Kid Says And My Favorite Conversations With Her... So Far

 

 

I've learned that my child might have my smart mouth and her dad's quick wit... I'm not sure if this is a good combination or a bad one. But, nonetheless, here are some of my favorite Tyler Grace'isms so far in her five short years. I'm sure there will be more to come.

1. "Mommy, am I still awake when my eye skin is closed?"

 

2. "If you don't get out of my room, I'm gonna fart."

 

3. "Did you know that sometimes my breath whistles out of my nose?"

 

4. "If I had a nickel for every time I said that, I'd be famous."

 

5. "Hurry up, we're late. Let's get this party started."

6. "What's red with green leaves? A bird in a tree."

7. "I farted. That stinks. Eww."

8. "I don't like school. They always want me to do things."

9. "Can I call you back? I'm busy?"

10. "The light is green. GO, FOOL!"

11. "I need y'all to quit talking because it's been a long day and I'M FREAKING TIRED!!"

12. TG: "Mommy, you have a bug on your face!!" *SLAP*
Me: "Owwww... did you just slap me?
TG: "You had a bug on your face."
Evan: "BAHAHAHAHAA"

13. Me: "Please stop jumping from couch to couch. I don't want to go to the ER tonight."
TG: "But why not, mommy?"
Me: "You'll get Ebola and die."
TG: "Eww, yucky. Ok, I'll stop."

14. TG: "Kids can say grown up words too."
Me: A little hesitant to ask... "Um... like what?"
TG: "Like banana annnd shit... maybe?"
Me: "Tyler, don't say shit."
TG: "Ok I won't say shit, so just banana?"
Me: "Yes."

15. My autobiography shall be called "My 4 year old insists her hands remain dry during bathtime and other reasons I drink."

16. "Oh, oh, oh, I really don't care" [insert Demi Levato voice]

17. TG: "Mommy, french braid my hair."
Me: "Yeah but you're gonna have to get off your step stool so I can reach the top of your head."
TG: "Why? You're not tall like me?"
Me: ".... just get off the dang stool and stop asking questions."

18. Me: "Ty, calm down!! I can only do one thing at a time."
TG: "But you have 2 hands."
Me: "....... Well, you got my mouth, didn't you?"

19. Me: "Tyler, I'm taking a bath, what does it look like I'm doing?"

TG: "Do you need to wash your dirty butt too?"

20. TG: "Mommy, what rhymes with sucker?"
Me: "Ummm... new word."
TG: "Ok, what rhymes with truck?"
Me: "Really? Ok rhyme time over."
TG: "Ok, one more. What rhymes with song?"
Me: "BONG!!" - FAIL

21. My kid told me she had to poop, could I go with her. I said sure. We get in there, she tells me I need to go get my phone, stand by the faucet and text somebody on my phone until she's done. Very specific instructions from the 4 year old. Ok, tiny dictator.

22. Me: "Ty, get up baby, it's time to go to school."
TG: "But Mommy, the sun's not even awake yet."
Me: "True, but I am, so get up."

23. Me: "Tyler, hold my hand."
TG: "No mommy, I got this. "
Me: "Tyler Grace, I wiped your butt for 2 years, you're gonna hold my hand."
TG: "Fine. But just for today."

24. Me: "Tyler, please be sweet at Mrs. Johnnie's house."
TG: "No, she's not adopting me."
Me: "No, Tyler, she's not, but will you be sweet anyway?"
TG: "Yeah, I guess."

25. Swimsuit tops at our house are called... "Baby Booby Holders."

26. Tyler and I were talking about school and rhyming and she said "CAR." I loudly blurt out "BAR!" She just stared at me. Then I stumped my toe and yelled "SHIT." I heard my kid yell "HIT" from another room. Touche.

27. Me: "Hey Ty, what do you want to get Ryan for his birthday?"
TG: "A truck, a superman, makeup for his mom and a new TV."
Me: "Slow your roll sister. He's just a boy in your class."

28. Me: "So why did you hit Cannon today?"
TG: "Because he wouldn't be my bestest friend."
Me: "Ok. So you hit him?"
TG: "No. I didn't. Maggie did."
Me: "So you didn't touch him, at all?"
TG: "No. Maggie did."
Me: "Why didn't you tell your teacher you didn't hit him?"
TG: "Because 'snitches get stitches.'"
Me: "Um..."

29. "TG: "Let me tell you a joke."
Me: "Ok."
TG: "Why does your nose sit on top of your earring?"
Me: "I don't know. Why?"
TG: "So you can eat the bread."

30. Me: "Knock knock. Is there anything in there, Ty? It sounds empty. "
TG: "Yeah mommy. There's a brain in there. It tells me to do everything."

31. Tyler named her ponies. Thunder, Lightning, Apple Jack aaannnnnnddd. .. wait for it.... Haircut Brush.

32. While I was taking a bath one night, Tyler went in my closet and grabbed a pair of stilettos, kissed them and said "hey pretty, I've been waiting for you" and walked out.

33. Me: "Pinky promise you'll be good?"
TG: "Yes ma'am, I promise. What if I'm not?"
Me: "Your butt will fall off."

34. TG: "Momma, he said 'shit.'"
Me: "I heard him. Don't say shit."
TG: "Ok momma, I won't say shit anymore."

35. I asked Tyler why her and Annie got sad faces and put in time out, she said "Annie hit me, then I hit Annie, then Annie pushed me, then I pushed Annie, then we both went to time out." Well why did Annie hit you? "Because she was going to be someone else's bestest friend." Preschool probs

36. "If you tell Daddy I got a sad face, that's not very nice of you."

37. Me: "If you could be any animal, what would you be?"
TG: "A cow!!"
Me: "A cow!! Really!! Why?"
TG: "Because Mimi doesn't like snow."
Me: ".......... Alright then."

38. Me: "Hello?"
My mother: "Tyler, stop running into the walls!!"
Me: "Hi mom."
My mother: "Oh, hi baby, I did your laundry. TYLER GRACE GET OUT OF THE FIREPLACE!!! Got to go, love you." *click*

39. TG: "So where is Tennessee? Is it in Africa or what?"
Me: "Close Ty. Close."

40. Me: "I like your new pjs."
TG: "Thanks mommy. I like your face."
Me: "Um... thanks?"

41. I asked my precious, baby girl what she wanted to be for Halloween, to which, she responded "a bat." I replied, "like a creature of the night or like a baseball bat?"
Answer: "A flying bat at night."
Just why? WTF.

42. Me: "We're going to Adrian and Steve's."
TG: "Do they have a baby?"
Me: "Yeah, Grey."
TG: "Do they have a Steve?"
Me: "Haha, well... yeah."

43. Me: "Tyler Grace, why did you eat 10 pieces of gum at Daddy's house and swallow them?"
TG: "Because they were green and they tasted good."
 

44. Me: "Come on, let's put a diaper on so you don't pee in the bed." 

TG: "But if I pee in the bed, it's warm."

45. Me: "Tyler, get in the bed."
TG: "I'm very, very hot."
Me: "I know baby, I turned the air on."
TG: "GEEZ... Thanks mom, it's about time."

46. *ah chooh!!* "Bless me."

47. "Imma bust you in the snotbox."

48. "Imma bust yo grape down to the white meat."

49. "Fucking pizza!!" - in the middle of Target, 2 years old, in front of my mother and a horrified couple with small children.

And my final and favorite... 50. "When I rub your butt, it helps me go to sleep."

The Strong-Willed Woman

 

Strong-willed: Someone strong-willed doesn’t give up easily. A strong-willed person is determined. Your will is your desire or drive to do something, so a strong-willed person is someone with a powerful will. This can be positive or negative. A child who insists on going to the zoo in the rain is strong-willed in a stubborn way. Someone with deep beliefs is strong-willed in a better way. A hero — or anyone who shows courage — is strong-willed. You have to be strong-willed to stand up for what you believe in during difficult situations.

 

Above is the dictionary definition of "strong-willed." I am the strong-willed woman. I was lucky enough to be raised by a strong-willed woman. I am incredibly lucky to have strong-willed women as friends and I am trying my damndest to raise a strong-willed woman. Here are some things that I think qualify women to be strong-willed.

 

The strong-willed woman is opinionated. She believes in her opinions and probably didn't form them overnight. She's stubborn, but only because she's made a promise to herself to do right by what she believes in. The strong-willed woman is the woman who crawls out of bed each morning even though her body and mind says not to and goes to work. She's the woman that has suffered an incredible loss, yet still finds happiness in each day. She's the woman at your work who suffers in silence through anxiety attacks and still manages to get your work done for you.

 

The strong-willed woman is the one who's child has behavioral problems that no one talks about. The woman who's child tells them she hates them, that they wish they weren't their mommy anymore, that they wish she were dead. The woman that hugs them through their temper-tantrums and takes their TV out of their room even though she'd rather lay there with them and watch a movie. The one who continues to tell her children she loves them even when they're kicking and screaming "I hate you" at her.

The strong-willed woman is the woman who's child has a physical or mental disability. The woman who has sat through countless doctor's appointments only to learn nothing new. The woman who has prayed over her child every night to be healed. The woman who has heard her child will never be "normal" and no one can tell her why.

 

The strong-willed woman is the woman who has an empty crib down the hall. The one who sat across the courtroom from the man that caused her this pain with grace and dignity and fought relentlessly for justice and still, to this day, fights for justice. The one who made funeral arrangements for her baby. The one who picked out a headstone for her child. The woman who gave birth to a stillborn baby. The woman who weeps every single time there's only one line instead of two. The woman who names and loves the unborn children she's lost. 

 

The strong-willed woman is the woman who hears all the gossip about her, but never lets it get to her. The woman that people love to talk about. She's the woman that raising babies all on her own and doing a dang fine job at it. The woman that has to allow another female to be involved with her child after a divorce or separation. The strong-willed woman is the woman that no matter how many times she's been burned by men, she fights for love over and over again. She continues to open her heart to people in hopes of finding what the strong-willed woman who raised her found 43 years ago today in her partner. *Happy 43rd anniversary y'all!!*

These two still going strong after 43 years of each other's crap.

The strong-willed woman is the one that carries on. The one that puts the weight of the world on her shoulders to help lighten the load for the ones she loves. She will break her back to help you no matter how heavy the load is for her because she's stubborn. Dare not say she can't carry it all. She can carry her weight and yours too with a grace all her own.

 

The strong-willed woman will never hesitate to tell you exactly what she's thinking. She will tell you when you hurt her, when you say things that upset her and she will definitely let you know when she's mad. You will always know where you stand with a strong-willed woman.

 

If you know a strong-willed woman or, if by some miracle, you are lucky enough to love a strong-willed woman, know this: They're complicated, but never boring. You're privileged to know her. Even more lucky to love her if she loves you back. A strong-willed woman is not for the faint of heart. Be patient with her, she deserves it. She's been through more than you can imagine and yet, she pushes forward. She will strive for excellence even when excellence cannot be found. She expects the best from the people she loves and even though she may not get it, she will push for it.

 

So to all my strong-willed women out there: Be thankful you're not a doormat, that you stand up for what you believe in, and never stop being stubborn. Here's to the strong-willed women. I am thankful to be friends with the strongest women on the planet, to have been raised by the strongest one I know, hopeful I am becoming half of the woman that my mother is and trying my best to raise this already strong-willed child.

For The Days When There Are No Words

You will forever be my always.

There are some days in your life that no amount of words can accurately describe how you feel. Today is one of those days. You search your mind for the things buried so deep in the black space, reaching, scratching, begging, screaming for something, anything that will help you understand your emotions, yet you're left blank. I remember this day two years ago all too well. I rolled over that morning, looked at my beautiful, sleeping son and thought "man, I don't want to go to Nashville today, I'd rather just stay home and cuddle with him." But I didn't. I got up, got dressed, woke him up, dressed him and headed to daycare. I parked my car, got out, walked around to the backseat to see him smiling at me, unbuckled him, and carted his big butt to the door. I knocked. It opened. I hugged my baby boy, kissed him on the mouth, told him I loved him and I handed him to Nay-Nay. I've relived that moment in my head a thousand times. That one moment. That one moment because that would be the last time I saw my son alive. The next time I would see my son would be at 10:00 that night at Children's Hospital in Birmingham, brain dead.

There was no "prepare yourself" "we'll do the best we can" "it's going to be okay." There was simply "he is going to die from this." Those were her exact words, the doctor, "he is going to die from this." Those words will be burned in my brain until the day I die. There was nothing I could do. I stared blankly at this petite woman in her early 30s dressed in scrubs with the utmost compassion in her eyes, and thought to myself, "you're joking, right?" I just sat there. The only words I could come up with to say were "can I see him?" I wanted to see my son. I wanted to run to him, unhook him from those machines and save him. I wanted to pick him up and say, "Mommy's here, baby, I'll fix you."

But there was no "this can be fixed," only "he has zero brain activity," "we'll keep him alive as long as we possibly can, but we're not sure how long his tiny body will hold out on the medicine that's keeping him alive." We sat there through the night at his side, helplessly watching nurses come in and out to check for vitals, anything, that would show he was still here with us. But I knew from the very second I walked into his room and saw him that he was gone. The room felt empty. His presence, his spirit, the very essence of him that filled every room he was in, was gone. I could feel it. I think a mother just knows. I knew the second I entered the presence of that tiny body, that it was not my son lying there. His wordly presence was no more.

They told us "be with your baby" but I wanted to scream out at them and tell them this wasn't my baby lying there. This was his shell. I couldn't pick him up. I could barely touch him. So we just stood there, for hours, stroking his hair, holding his tiny hands, kissing the one fat foot that wasn't hooked up to something. I studied him. Every inch of him that wasn't hooked to something or covered by something. I just wanted more than anything to hold my baby. Fix him. I begged him to let me fix him. Just come back to me so Mommy can make it all better. I begged him to come back to me. I begged God to let me switch places with him. "Give this to me, but make him okay again. Make him whole and I will gladly go in his place."

But there was no fixing him and no trading me for him would come for us. A neurologist came into our room in the pre-dawn hours of February 7, 2013, with a team of interns and said "there's nothing we can do for this child," gave me a heartfelt nod and calmly walked out of the room that my son would soon die in. A doctor asked us if we wanted to remove life support as a young nurse stroked his hair and told us what a beautiful baby boy we had. He was beautiful. Too pretty to be a boy. 

We told the doctor we would sign the forms for a Do Not Resuscitate, but I just wanted to hold my son. It took an incredible amount of strength and courage, that I'm still not even sure where it came from, to sign a form telling qualified physicians not to attempt to bring the Earthly being of my child back to life. For me, it wasn't a life, it was only the remaining shell of a body that my son once encompassed that they would be saving. But to put my name on that line was giving them permission to let my baby die. To allow his physical being, the being we made, the one I carried in my womb, the one I birthed, the one I rocked and sang lullabies to, the one I bathed, fed, cared for, protected with my life, that physical being I would never see again until the funeral home. But that was not his soul, his gentle spirit that I envied so much, it was his shell. 

An hour later, his blood pressure bottomed out. I remember the quiet in the room before the screaming beeps of the machines. I remember looking at Keller's dad from across his hospital bed. The look on his face I will never forget. The look of terror and also understanding. I think, as scared as we both were, we knew what was happening. We knew it was time. All I could do was scream at the nurses rushing in the room to give me my son. "Give him to me, NOW!" They told me to sit down in a chair beside his bed. The same young doctor that told me hours before "he is going to die from this" looked at me with tears in her eyes. She paused and just looked at me for a moment, then began to quickly unhook him from what machines she could and turned to me and handed over to me my son's limp, lifeless body to hold for the last time. I held him for a long time. I held him long enough to feel him turn cold then I handed our son to his father. His first born son. His namesake. I watched a giant of a man crumble to a broken, defeated father holding his dead son. I had to leave the room. It broke me. 

I remember everything about the last moments I shared with my son - from the nurses faces, to the look of despair on Evan's mother's face when she walked in the room - I thought she was going to collapse, the feeling of my mother's cold hands on my shoulders as she watched her only child hold her son for the last time, the feeling of Evan's shoulder leaning against mine as he cradled and stroked his son's hair. I remember hearing him sob. I remember the sounds, the wailing of the beeping machines until the nurses turned them off. I remember the sound I swore my heart made when it broke as the machines went silent. And I remember the smell. That smell. The smell of my son. The smell of his hair. I will never forget that smell. Everything but his hair smelled like a hospital, but not his hair. That smell was uniquely his and I will remember it my whole life. 

And I remember walking out of his room and collapsing in the hall. I remember the feeling the exact moment it hit me that I would have to leave this hospital without my child. I would have to go home to an empty crib and tell a three year old daughter what it means to die and wondering how in the world she would comprehend the magnitude of the situation. This precious child that I just lost from this Earth was still survived by a big sister who couldn't possibly understand that her "Kedder-Man" would never exist in this world again. 

I relive the hours of those two days over and over again in my mind. The hours I stood by his bedside.  I will forever. I miss him. I miss his smile. I miss his incredible belly laughs. I miss singing Wagon Wheel to him. I miss his big blue eyes. I miss everything about his being. All I want is to hold my baby. I cannot wait to hold my baby.

"He was my dream. He made me who I am and holding him in my arms was more natural to me than my own heartbeat. I think about him all the time. Even now, when I'm sitting here, I think about him. There could never have been another."

My Beautiful Birthday Girl

My baby turns a whopping 5 years old on Sunday. Man, time flies!! As I look back at pictures of my beautiful little girl, it gives me chills to think of how much she's grown and matured in 5 short years.

 

She was born on Monday, February 1, 2010, at 4:16 in the afternoon after 6 hours of terrifying "first-time mom" labor. She came out as a whopping 6 pounds 10 ounces of screaming perfection and she hasn't stopped screaming yet.

 

She was a perfect baby, ate like a champ and slept even better. Sleeping through the night at 3 weeks? Man, I'm gonna rock this mom thing. I couldn't have asked for a better baby. Then... perfection ended. She turned into a "don't touch that" "get down from there" "don't put that in your mouth" "I'm going to count to 3, eight times" mobile crawler. Literally, everything went in her mouth... shoes, food, soap, even glass one time. Yeah, little "Hoover" ate glass from a dropped baby food jar - trip Numero Uno to the ER. And this just as a crawler. Then, walking. Lord... it's like the "Terrible Twos" started at 14 months. With walking came climbing... on everything, including the recliner in our living which she took a nose dive off of and knocked herself out - trip Numero Dos to the ER with a concussion. At 14 months I knew she was hardheaded. Little did I know how hardheaded this child would eventually become.

 

Terrible Twos - ohhh lawd - help me. You want to talk about a strong-willed child? I knew I needed Jesus the first time she hit me in the face and pointed her finger at me and said "no." Testing my patience from the very beginning. You always have an idea of what type of parent you'll be before you have kids. Well, you might as well throw everything you've ever thought about being as a parent in the trash because it's not going to happen. From warming bottles in the microwave, to throwing away the bottle sanitizer, thinking you'll buy fresh fruits and veggies to make your own baby food, changing diapers on those disgusting changing tables in bathrooms, letting them put dropped pacifiers back in their mouths and eating food off the floor - yup, I let all that go. I've done all the things I swore I'd never do as a parent and she's just fine.

 

I've watched her go from a perfect, angel baby to a strong-willed toddler and then to a lively, backtalking preschooler and I wouldn't have it any other way. She has fiery spirit and a way with words which most adult don't possess. She has her father's amazing sense of humor and taste in music and my smart mouth and uncanny ability to bargain and talk her way out of trouble. She has an opinion about everything from picking out her own clothes to specifically how she wants her hair done. She's loving and she's not afraid to show it. You absolutely cannot walk out of her bedroom at night without at least a million hugs, kisses, I Love Yous and please don't leave yets.

 

They say "time flies when you're having fun" and that couldn't be more true. I've had an absolute blast being her mom and I can't ever remember there being a dull moment when she was around. From jumping on the bed to making up jokes and song, she's the reason I smile everyday and my heart is filled with joy. She's my heartbeat and I can't wait to be her mom for the rest of my life. I can't wait to watch her grow up and grow into my best friend.

 

So to my baby girl on your almost 5th birthday - Mommy is so incredibly proud of you. I can't wait to watch you turn into a smart, talented, loving, beautiful young lady and I love you to the ends of the Earth and back.

 

 

My Ifs Ands Or Butts On Gay Marriage

 

Yes... I said "Butts" to be a pun. Excuse me, I couldn't help myself.

Most people who know me know I'm all about free love. Period. Love who you love and love them well. With that being said, there's a lot of hoopla going on in the State of Alabama in regards to gay marriage. On Sunday, U.S. District Judge Callie V.S. "Ginny" Granade, struck down Alabama's same-sex marriage ban. I view this as a huge win for the State of Alabama and same-sex couples in our state. The ruling will likely be appealed and held up in our court system for years to come, but it is a step in the right direction.

 

Before you read further and comment with your bible verses and anti-homosexual nonsense, let me speak my piece. My peace may be different than yours, and that's okay. That's why we live in a great nation where you can speak your piece without fear.

 

I wholeheartedly believe in a clear separation of church and state. I do not believe that when our Constitution was written that our forefathers ever thought gay marriage would be an issue with the language it was written in. Do I believe that "marriage" should be between a man with a penis and a woman with a vagina? Absolutely. A marriage, a biblical marriage. There's my problem. Do I believe that two females or two males who love each other and have committed their lives to one another should be allowed the same benefits as a male and female who marry? Absolutely.

 

If I had it my way, the law across the board would be written as such: If you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, entitle each other to your benefits and medical coverage, and raise children together, whether that be male-male, female-female or male-female, you could take your happy asses down to the courthouse, pay them $20 and be "civilly unionized." Whatever you want to call it. If you believe in a "traditional marriage," after you visit the courthouse and make it legal, take your happy asses down to your church and have a traditional wedding. But I believe in the eyes of the law, it should be no different. It can certainly be different in the eyes of the church, but shouldn't be in the eyes of the law.

 

Imagine this: imagine you have been with someone your entire life. You've built a life with them, loved them, raised children together, been completely committed to them forever and they get sick. You two have no one else. Just each other and someone tells you that you are unable to make end-of-life decisions for this person who has been your spouse your whole life. In some cases, not even allowed to visit them in certain areas of a hospital because you are not considered "immediate family." Then imagine that your spouse dies. You are not entitled to their benefits upon death, such as retirement. If you had children together, but those children only happened to be "legal children" of you, they aren't entitled to your spouse's benefits either. What if at your job you were unable to cover your spouse under your health insurance benefits? Or if those children were legally theirs and not your own, be able to cover your children for healthcare benefits? They cannot take out life insurance policies in each others' name. How do you financially protect those you love if something were to happen to you? And imagine the difficulties filing taxes especially for gay, male couples in this state. Any male reading this, you know how this state rapes you on taxes, imagine now if your partner was also male, how many benefits you guys, as a couple, would be missing out on.

 

Not only are the above some problems they face, but further problems they face if they were "married" in a state that recognizes that union and move here where not only is it illegal for them to wed, but we do not recognize their legal union from elsewhere. The children they have adopted, loved and raised together now only have one parent in the eyes of the state. Only that one "legal" parent is allowed to make medical decisions for them. Example: my son had two legal parents, myself and Evan that were able to make necessary decisions for him. But, had his other parent been a female, she would have been unable to make medical decisions for him. What if he had to have a procedure done that a parent had to sign for. I was en route from Nashville by the time my son arrived at Children's, had he had to have an operation that would have saved his life, she would not have been allowed to make that decision absent my presence.

 

These are a few of the problems thousands of same-sex couple face every day. It's just the tip of the iceberg for them. I was raised in a Christian household. My parents do not believe in "allowing the gays to get married." They do not judge, they love everybody, but I also think that they are unaware of the problems these couples face. They know and love people who are gay, but they are older and may not understand legally what a gay marriage ban means for these people that they know and love. This seems to be apparent in many older people I talk to. All they hear is the "abomination" of letting the gays get "married." What they fail to listen to is the problems they face logistically from a financial standpoint.

 

So, to reiterate what I said above, I propose an equal, across the board "civil union" for everybody. Male-male, female-female or male-female that would entitle you to reap the benefits of sharing your life with someone financially and emotionally. But should you be religious and believe in a Biblical definition of "marriage," then after you ride down to the courthouse to ensure that you and your spouse are entitled to your legal benefits as a committed "married" "civil-unionized" couple, then take your happy asses down to your church and get "married" there.

 

I wrote this not from a Christian standpoint, but from a human standpoint and from a human standpoint, I believe in love. And I believe in protecting those you love. It's time that our nation, our state in particular, believe in love and allow those who love each other to also legally protect each other. Also, if you don't "believe" in gay marriage, don't have one.

P.S. I would watch the shit out of Gay Divorce Court. Can you imagine two Queens (<-- I hope that's not offensive) fighting over the Elton John box set? Amazing.

Dear New Mom




Being a mom makes you crazy and that's ok.

Dear new mom:

 

Congrats!! You've survived the "miracle" of birth no matter how it happened - whether you went into labor at home, induced early to claim that baby on your taxes that year, scheduled a C-Section, vaginally birthed a tiny human "all natural," had every drug they could offer you or whether you had a baby on the side of the road, you're now a mom and you have a perfect little human to show for it. You've been entrusted with another human life to love, protect and mold into a successful human being. You're scared, you're tired and you wonder every day if you're doing things right. Don't worry. You're doing just fine, but here's some things that will help you out along the way.

 

(1) They tell you "breast is best" but don't beat yourself up if you struggle or you can't breastfeed at all. That baby will be just fine. I was unable to breastfeed either of mine. Don't let anyone tell you you're doing it wrong. I had numerous people tell me I was wrong for not breastfeeding my kids... hey guess what? It's either formula or starve. Sometimes your body doesn't give you a choice in the matter.

 

(2) Sleep when the baby sleeps? Hahaha, I wish it were that simple, but while that precious baby is asleep, there are things that need to be done - laundry, dishes, bottles, bathing yourself, feeding yourself. It's a lot. Try to get sleep when you can. Be a walking zombie. It's okay, we've all been there. We can't do everything and sometimes sleep wins. And that's okay too. Enlist the help of anybody you can. Ask for specific things like "hey, please come fold and put up my laundry." And if all else fails, hide those dirty dishes in the oven if someone comes over.

 

(3) If you're walking around in the same clothes you had on yesterday, that's okay. If those same clothes have spitup, poop or any other bodily fluid on them, so be it.

 

(4) Germs are good. It helps their immune system. Don't bathe people in hand sanitizer if they want to hold your baby. And let people hold your baby. Nobody likes the kid that's terrified of everybody. Socialize them, they'll thank you for it later.

 

(5) If your baby drops a pacifier on the ground, do not fumble around in a baby bag for paci wipes, pick up, put it in your mouth and stick it back in theirs. Like I said, germs are a good thing.

 

(6) Onesies with zippers are the best thing ever invented. Buy those. The ones with buttons are a bitch in the middle of the night.

Yup... Baby Brezza. Buy it. Trust me.

(7) Spend the extra money on the baby formula machine that automatically makes fresh bottles. Also, the best thing invented. Just press a button and in 60 seconds, you have a perfectly warm, perfectly mixed bottle. Well worth the money. It's like a baby Kurig.

 

(8) If you want to sleep train your baby or you want your baby to co-sleep with you, either way, do what works for you.

 

(9) Don't take everything so seriously. They are only little once, enjoy it. If the laundry isn't done and the dishes aren't clean, don't sacrifice that cuddle time for it. It won't be too long and they'll be wiggly toddlers that squirm out of your arms every chance they get.

(10) Your baby will not die if they put sand in their mouth at the playground. I promise.

(11) Enjoy them not having so much hair. Getting tangles out of a four year old's hair every morning is not fun.

(12) Take pictures with your babies. Even if you look a mess. Take them every chance you get. I have about a million pictures of my kids, but very few with me in them. Try sometimes to be in front of the camera instead of behind.

(13) Everybody will tell you to "put your phone down" because you're wasting precious moments not giving your child your full attention. Listen, if checking Facebook or the 18,000 emails in your inbox gives you a moment of peace and sanity, take it.

(14) If you have a thing against bodily fluids from another person, might as well go ahead and get over that. You will be peed on, thrown up on and pick another human's boogers more than you will be willing to admit. Being a mom is messy, it is what it is. Comes with the territory.

(15) Sometimes babies don't smell good. Actually, kids in general smell awful. But the good thing about babies is, you don't have to bathe them everyday. My mother was under the impression when my kids were born that even as newborns they needed a bath every day. Nope... don't fool with that mess. All they do is lay there. They eat, sleep, pee, shit, repeat... all day, every day. Trust me, when they're older and think it's hilarious to fart in the bathtub, you'll relish in the days you only had to give baths maybe 3 times a week. You ever cleaned poop out of a bathtub? It's not on the highlight reel of my best parenting moments.

(16) *And last, but not least, probably my best advice* DO NOT TRY TO CATCH THROW UP IN YOUR HANDS!! Ever. For any reason. Lesson learned. The floor is always best. Just trust me on this one. 

So here's the thing about being a mom - it's hard, it's messy and NOBODY has all the answers. So flipping hard. You always wonder if you're doing the right things or if they're going to turn out okay. Nobody wants to be the mom that raised a serial killer. Truth is none of us are perfect. There is no perfect parent. Just love your babies and always have their best interests at heart and you'll do just fine. So listen to "veteran moms'" advice, or don't. We're all just kinda winging it anyway. 

See... no perfect parent. This is picture of my four year old climbing counters while I was watching the news.  I freaked out for a moment then I realized she did the hard part already and I was actually pretty impressed. Touche' tiny Spiderman.
 

So to the "new mom": I promise you'll survive. Maybe not as gracefully as others, but you'll make it. Those sleepless nights won't last forever. You may never get your body back, but you have one hell of an awesome thing to show for it. Like I said, we're all just winging it, so relax. If you become the mom that hides from her kids with a bottle of wine in the closet, or the one who sits on top of the toilet and flushes every so often while you play Trivia Crack, or you walk around every day looking a damn hot mess... who cares? Don't sweat the small things. As my mother always says, "it'll all come out in the wash."

Why I Will Frame This Picture

 

We had family pictures made this past Sunday by the lovely and talented Sue Sizemore at Southern Exposure Photography who is my best friend Adrian's mom. Anyone who knows me or my child knows that this was no easy feat. Tyler Grace is rambunctious, doesn't listen and generally destructive at all times. Don't let that pretty face fool you, she can tear some shit up. We had suffered through 45 minutes of "don't touch that" "put that down" "look over here" "smile pretty" and countless others and then came time to take pictures with Mommy. We let Tyler decide how she wanted to take pictures and the above is one of the first. This picture was actually taken on Adrian's IPhone while Ms. Sue was adjusting the lighting. It instantly became my favorite for multiple reasons.

 

(1) She looks like Grumpy Cat's long lost human sister.

 

(2) This is us. Every day. Those two faces. That's what you get: Tyler Grace being generally disinterested and me looking at her like "what in the hell is wrong with you?"

 

(3) I said in a previous post that I wish I could make our Christmas card one that instead of playing pleasant music when you open it, it's just Tyler Grace screaming for candy before bed. Let you know what's really going on with us.

 

(4) People always portray a picture perfect version of their life on social media. We're all guilty of it and that's okay, but I will not do it in my home.

 

(5) Life is messy and far from perfect, especially if you have children. Let's be honest. This picture perfectly portrays that.

 

I told someone I was going to have this one framed and their response was "Why? The others are prettier." Because... this is our REAL life.

 

So that picture will be the picture proudly displayed on my wall along with this other one... it looks wonderful, but what you don't realize is she climbed up on my shoulders while I wasn't paying attention and that was me mid-sentence saying "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Also, she's trying to lick my forehead because she's weird like that.

 

 

So lesson learned, family picture day is not fun, it's stressful and kids do weird shit that make you question why in the world you ever wanted to be a parent in the first place. But these are my memories of my child being four - her silly faces, her inability to listen and do what she's told, and her using me as her own personal jungle-gym and to me, those are the memories I don't want to forget. Long after the proofs of the perfect pictures are gone, my favorite memories of my four year old will be frozen in time on my wall in plain view for all to see and they are far from perfect.

Sure, I will get some of the "perfect" ones framed too, but these will be front and center and probably displayed in my foyer as you walk in my front door just to let you know "Welcome To The Madhouse."

Girls Who Are Just Over Stereotypes

The number of times I have been called my girlfriend's best guy friend is ridiculous, but true. I hear it A LOT and that's okay with me. I know me. I like me. And the people I like, like me. Now... dating... that's a whole different ball game. I'm pretty sure guys have grouped us women in general into this emotional, crazy, "OMG my makeup" group, but there are still some of us who this category doesn't apply to at all. Let's take a moment to understand these girls and get to know them a bit better, shall we?

 

*We're not lesbians. Not that there is anything wrong with being a lesbian, this post is just not  pertaining to lesbians. We've been called lesbians, but we're not. We like the D.

 

*We're the girls screaming at the football game. We're not trying to be cute or attract male attention. We're generally invested in the game. Don't be a jerk and try to test our knowledge. You'll just look like a dick and we'll embarrass you. This goes for any sport we may be interested in, not just football.

 

*We like multiple sports. We probably participated in them growing up and we have a wealth of knowledge on our favorites. We know our favorite players, where they played, what they play and we have an opinion on why they're our favorites. Don't try to dumb us down.

 

*We have opinions. Don't ask us for our opinion unless you want an honest, no holding back response. We're not much for saving face or wondering if it'll hurt your feelings. If you ask, we will tell you exactly what we think every time.

 

*We have filthy mouths that our mothers would frown upon. Terrible. Awful. Two drinks and we're using "fuck" like a comma. Sorry. Not really. Suck it up, buttercup. I'm not the kind of person you should put on speakerphone.

 

*We drink. A lot. Period. This doesn't need to be explained.

 

*We have a lot of guy friends. Get over it. There is not a better wingman on the planet for a guy than another girl. Ask any guy who has a girl in their "bro group."

 

*We don't like emotions. We don't have time for our own, much less yours. If you need to cry about something, please call your mother. You wouldn't go cry to your bro about getting your feelings hurt, so please don't do it to me. I have no good advice, but I can always provide you with a sarcastic comment.

 

*We'll be real with you. We expect you to be real with us. Are you dating a girl and you want to break things off? Umm... grow a set and tell her. We're big girls, we can handle it. We appreciate your honesty much more than your bullshit.

 

*We will not dress up every day. Sorry not sorry. Or wear makeup. We like our real face just fine. Your problem if you don't. We dress up when we want to. Period.

 

*We have a zero bullshit tolerance policy. If we feel as if things are too hard or it just simply requires too much effort, we're out. Plain and simple. Being with somebody shouldn't have to be so damn hard. We will not, under any circumstances, beg you to be with us. Naw... we're good.

 

*If you ask us what's wrong with us and you continue to irritate the shit out of us about it, you'll get more than you bargained for. We obviously don't want to talk about it. If we wanted to talk about it with you, we would have brought it up to you on our own free will. We don't like to be forced into conversations. Not every fucking thing needs to be talked about.

 

*Don't force us to define the relationship. We will jump ship. Period. See above: not everything has to be talked about. The only thing that needs to be said is "if you're sleeping with me, I'd appreciate that you not sleep with anyone else while you're currently sleeping with me. K? Thanks." I'm not worried about defining the relationship after a month so much as I am worried about STDs. That's it. That's all you need to know. Don't hang out with me for a month and try to slap a label on me. I will slap you in your mouth. We will not change our relationship status on Facebook. Get over yourself.

 

*If we're dating and we feel as if you need to grow a set of balls bigger than our own imaginary balls, we will tell you that... to your face. Then, if you want to cry about it, call your momma.

 

*If all you want to do is sleep with us, nothing more, nothing less, tell us that. Why is that so hard? You might get lucky and end up with a girl that says "thank God" instead of one that cries about it.

 

*We don't want a boyfriend. We want a life partner. We want somebody who has our back no matter what. Someone who is our equal. Someone who's life fits with ours, not changes it.

 

So, every girl you meet is not a pretty, pretty princess who needs to be saved. Some of us can save our damn selves and all we need from you is to stand on the sidelines and clap as we walk by. Thanks.

 

 

Ignorance About Child Loss

 

 

As a grieving mother, I feel like I've done my best to hold my own. Let's not kid ourselves, I'm a mess. I realize that but I will say this: I am still here. Broken, defeated and screaming out in pain, but I'm still here. I still go to work every day. I have a healthy, happy 4 year old at home. She gets to school on time, most of the time. There's food in my fridge, next to the wine. So all in all, we're doing okay.

 

But here's the thing about grief: it's sneaky. For months at a time you're okay. You feel okay. You think you're over "the hump" then out of nowhere here it comes again. The crippling grief crashing over you like the waves of the sea drowning you in their wake. You know it's temporary, but it's overwhelming for months at a time. It's like you're right there in the beginning again. A restart of the grieving process.

 

For those of you who are ignorant to this type of grief, let me help you out.

 

Losing a child is not comparable to losing anyone else. Do not compare your grief to mine unless you have lost a child as well. If another person tells me "well when I lost my dog [insert name here]..." I'm going to lose my fucking shit. Your mother, father, brother, sister, grandparent, and friends are all great losses, I know, I've experienced those as well, but they are the natural order of things. Losing a child is not. It goes against all of our natural instincts.

 

Losing a child is hard enough, period. Losing a child in a manner by which they were alive when you dropped them off at daycare and brain dead by the time you got to the hospital, is traumatizing, at best. Do not tell a parent that has lost a child in this manner - "at least you didn't have to watch them suffer like they were sick or something." I'm sorry. What? No. Neither is okay. Although, a sick child might have allowed for goodbye's, my situation did not.

 

Do not tell a parent that has lost a child that "God needed his baby back." Really? While that sounds good in your mind, what we hear is "Your child is better off dead than here with you." Avoid that statement and any like it such as "God picks the prettiest flowers first." <-- that one is my personal favorite.

 

Do not tell a grieving mother "well at least you have another child." This will be my answer:

Me: "Really? You have children?"

Asshole: "Yes, I have [insert number here] kids."

Me: "Ok, great. Pick the one you could live without. That's what I thought."

 

I'm allowed to be selfish when I grieve. Period. If it comes down to you getting your feelings hurt or me letting this grief out, guess who wins? Me. Every time. It IS selfish, I'm not saying it's not, but sometimes that's what it takes. Be an emotional punching bag for a little while. Trust me, I'll love you more for it in the end.

 

Our grief is not a "crutch" or an excuse for our shortcomings as people in general. Our grief is our real life every fucking day. There is no "moving on" or "getting over it" there is only "try to fucking survive it." The loss of our child changed us as people. We will never be the person we were before. Your life becomes split in two halves, your life before your child died and your life after your child died. And who we are changes from day to day. Yesterday, I was fine, dandy and happy, then today happened. Not so great today. I cried more this morning trying to get my 4 year old ready for school than I've cried in a while. More angry than anything. So it's not a crutch or an excuse, it's the worldwind of our emotions that stem from our grief taking a hold on us. There is nothing we can do. Love us through it.  

 

If you are being insensitive and I tell you that you need to educate yourself on people who are grieving the loss of a child... please do. Read a book. Hell, Google that shit. Do something constructive so you don't look like an insensitive, ignorant asshole.

 

 

 

 

 

So, does that mean we're allowed to be all consumed by our grief? Fuck yes, it does. There are people in your life who will stand beside you no matter what. And then there are people in your life that will walk away as soon as things get hard. When my grief consumes me I know I'm a different person. I'm very well aware. I'm cold, short-tempered, selfish, angry, sad and won't leave my house unless I have to. That's the me that grieves. I let it consume me. I feel as though I owe my son that. That's my last act of love for him is to grieve his loss. So if you can't love me through my grief, then walk, but don't you dare misconstrue the situation as me being a shitty person.