Memoir Monday: Proud Momma

Lip Smackers, it's a brand new week!  The last two weeks have been a whirlwind at La Casa di Romano.  I promised to share why I have been so scarce lately and the time has finally arrived.

But, it's Monday, and you all know that means it's time for Memoir Monday sponsored by the one and only TravyG over at I like to Fish.  I couldn't skip out, as this is a special edition, complete with pictures and everything.  Travis is debuting his brand new super fabby button made by the one and only FABULOUSLY talented Cheesecake over at Cheapskate Designs. (Look ain't it purty?)

                                                                                   

So since this is a photo opportunity, and because it's relevant to the story.  For your viewing pleasure, please meet Think Tank Momma's PRIDE. AND. JOY.

 

(Aren't they BEAUTIFUL?)

(If you can't read the text, from left to right:  Michael, Kamden, Kenna and Kooper)

It's funny how life throws you curve balls.  When you least expect it, and you have everything all mapped out, suddenly you find yourself not at all where you thought you'd be.

Two weeks ago, BDC and I learned that my beautiful, smart and funny daughter, Kenna is pregnant. She is only 18.  She is a senior in high school.  She is carrying a heavy AP load and preparing for college.

I don't think in my 37 years I have ever experienced quite the range of emotions as I have this last two weeks.  Terror, joy, heartbreak, overwhelming love and pride, sorrow, you name it, I have pretty much been there.

I have had many ask how we didn't know.  I can tell you, many of our friends and family were also just as shocked.  She had put on a little weight, but certainly not enough to make the automatic jump to pregnancy.  It's winter and she wears big hoodies, baggy jeans and jackets.  She is a tiny person, so really it wasn't that noticeable. 

Oh, did I mention she is due in 10 days?  No?  Yeah, she is due on FEBRUARY 17th!  HOLY CRAPOLI is right!

I immediately made her a doctors appointment and they were happy to see her right away.  We went to the doctor's office last Monday.  Thank the Lord and my lucky stars, everything seems perfect despite the lack of prenatal care.  She is young and healthy and very fit, which makes a whole lot of difference.  The doctor and sonogram technician sited her tight stomach muscles as the reason she didn't feel the baby until so late into her pregnancy.

So, after a whole lot of thought, and possibly the most difficult decision any young woman can make, my baby girl asked BDC and me to adopt and raise her precious bundle of joy.  She weighed all of her options very carefully.  She knows that she is not ready to be a mom.  She wants to finish high school, and go to college.  She wants to have a successful career.  She also wants to make sure that her daughter has every advantage in life she has had.

Additionally, Kenna and I were the awesome twosome for a very long time.  I was a single mom from the time her dad walked out on us when she was three months old, until our wonderful knight in shining armor (BDC) became part of our family when Kenna was almost eight.  She did see her dad on a semi-regular basis during that time, but it was not the same as having a two parent home.  It made a lasting impression on her.

While I did the best I could as a single mom, and we did quite well for ourselves, children really miss the other parent.  Kenna wanted to make sure she didn't hurt my feelings in the process, but said she didn't want her baby to grow up with a single mom.  I knew what she meant.  It's a struggle.  It's hard.  It isn't ideal.  It is what it is, and what it was for us.  For her and me, everyday, for most of her formidable years.

Since marrying BDC, our lives have become filled with joy and family.  We have a warm and gracious daddy who is there every. single. day.  He shows our family day in and day out what happiness is.  Little girls have a special bond with the man they call "Daddy" and Kenna wants that for her daughter.

I respect my baby girl's courage.  I respect her decision.  I will support her every way I can as we enter this new chapter of our lives.  As we turn the corner and she enters adulthood in the most difficult of circumstances, and I become Grandma and Mom all over again, I want her to know how much I love her.  How much I admire her courage, her love and her selflessness.  She is an amazing young woman.


(I will share more details of our story with you in the weeks to come.  I have condensed a bit and left out details in order to keep this lengthy post as brief as possible.)

I have been truly blessed with the most amazing group of friends and family that anyone could ask for.  THANK YOU so much for all your support and love.  I don't know what I would do without you.

I will keep you all updated and share our big news as soon as Khylee Anne makes her big debut!

Don't forget tomorrow is Thank You Note Tuesday.  Send some gratitude with attitude to those who deserve it most!

Memoir Monday: Don't Mess With the Kamden

You know the rules.  There are none.  Just tell the truth.  Reach into those jello molds you call brains, pull out some long lost memory and type it up.  Slap that butt(on) on your story and voila!  Memoir Monday.  Now go link up with TravyG.  Oh and read everyone else's little bits of brain matter splattered all over Travy's place like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie!

When Mykenna was little she was obsessed with N'SYNC.  Not like a little, like it was ridiculous.  She was in lurve with JT (that Justin Timberlake for those of you who are not COOL).  We went to several concerts.  We sat with the family and friends at one of them as we received tickets from JC Chasez. His dad and Mykenna's father worked together at the time.  Let me tell you, that is like COOL when you are 7!

So, Mykenna would come to the office with me occasionally and we had a young office admin who liked to talk about JT, and the rest of the band with Kenna.  The admin was in the NSYNC fan club.  Kenna just thought that was cool.  However, they would argue.  OVER BAND TRIVIA.  It got pretty bad, but Kenna was always right.  The child had every magazine, every book, every, EVERYTHING and memorized it all.

Anyfight, last week Kenna comes home from picking up Kamden from school for me.  Don't judge.  I was busy blogging getting dinner in the oven to cook.  They are arguing as the come in the door.  I hear Kamden say, "Um...hello?  I read it in TIME magazine for kids."  Kenna says, "Well, excuuuuuuuuuuusssssse me."

I query as to the scoff between them.  Kenna relays to me that she told Kamden that Taylor Swift was 17.  He told her right quick that she was W-R-O-N-G.  Apparently she also told him that Taylor never dated a Jonas brother.  Again, Kamden told her she was W.R.O.N.G.  He said, "Look, Sissy, I read all about it in TIME for Kids.  I have all her cds.  AND, I read in on the internet."  She said.  "Ok.  So I was wrong.  Geez."

I quickly reminded her she was exactly the same age when she was arguing about NSYNC.  She said...."Ah..I remember that now.  Was I that snotty?"

Me...."Well, your brother does take it to a whole new level."

Kenna..."Yeah....Don't Mess with THE Kamden!"

Well that is it for the Memoir folks.  What are you waiting for?  Go grab the button and slap it on and link up!

DON'T FORGET....Tomorrow we are writing out our Thank You Notes.  The fuckyouverymuch way.  My way.  I know you have something to get off your chest.  It's your chance!

Memoir Monday: Get your Licks in When You Can

It's Memoir Monday again.  My good buddy TravyG over at I like to Fish hosts this, and according to him the only requirement for our Memoir is that it be true.  So get your butt out of the corner, reach deep into those memory recesses like Little Jack Horner, and pull out a plum(memory).

When I was little, my Dad used to rough house with all of us.  I have two younger sisters and a younger brother.  I am almost nine years older than my brother, 4 years older than my baby sister and 19 months older than my other sister.  My Dad wrestled with all of us girls like we were a house full of boys.

He had a ritual down that would almost inevitably get us to cry "I Give." aka as "uncle".  He would push your hair off your forehead and spat it, repeatedly.  He would grab a handful of hair and pull up, not hard, just enough, and then ask you if you liked your hair raising experience.  He would tickle us until we laughed so hard it hurt.  He had a claw hand he made and would grab your sides and call them horsey nibbles.  But the one that no matter what else you had endured, would always make you say "I give!" was his infamous eyeball lick.  WHAT?  I know you are thinking WTF?

That's right.  My Dad would lick our eyeballs.  Well, you know not literally the eyeball itself, but full open mouth tongue run across your eyes, which makes you close them really tightly.  But, regardless, it was disgusting.  It's still disgusting. 

I have had the pleasure of repaying my good ol' Dad for that little treasure though.  I have three boys.  I have shared the experiences of my youth with them.  Shared the essence of GrandDad if you will.  I taught them well.  However, after years of abuse experience, I knew in order to put those skills to good use, against he who had gotten me so many times, I had to teach my boys stealth.  Why?  We tested it out on our own Daddy.  In order to get the hubs, you gotta be good.

So, to get them both, my hubs and my dad, I have taught my sweet affectionate little boys to pretend to want to give hugs and kisses.  They have to get them both when they(Daddy and GrandDad) least expect it.  They just have to bust it out when they can.  Cause in a war, we (me and the boys) always lose.  So now, we plot.  We are stealthy.  We look at those big men all sweet and innocent.  We go in for a kiss, and then swipe that tongue right across their eyeballs.

First and only rule in "I Give" Wars.  You gotta get your licks in when you can!

Memoir Monday: Unwrapped

Welcome to the newly spruced up Tank! Whatcha think? It's so ME, right? I want to send some beautiful love and KUDOS! to the folks at Bloggy Blog Designz.  I wasn't sure what I wanted, I hemmed and I hawed.  I gave very little direction.  I told Jenna, I want a Betty Boop"esque" character with big boobs/butt (like me) and long red hair (again, like me).  And I gave her three colors.  I also told her I wanted to keep my fishy "tank" as well.  So, THIS is what she came up with!  Awesome right?  She was very patient with me as I ask for little nuance changes, "please add this", and "oh yeah I want that."  I have to tell you, with not much to go on(from me the customer) she absolutely made all the right choices to suit me, my personality and my newly BLINGED OUT BLOG!  THANK YOU BLOGGY BLOG DESIGNZ!  You guys ROCK!

You know what's even cooler than my blog overhaul?  I WON IT!  Jenna, you are the BOMB!  Mwah!  Ya'll head on over there are give her some love when you are done ogling my new boobs, ass, diggs!

Anyglamour, it's Monday.  Time for TravyG's Memoir Monday, where all of us share some story of yesteryear and give you something to laugh about, or cry about, or whatever.  It's all in the name of sharing right?

When I was little we lived in Utah.  My mom is from Jacksonville, FL and my dad is from Pleasant Grove, UT.  They met while my mom was going to school out there and well, the rest they say is history.  We lived there until I was eight when the building market in Utah tanked.  My dad worked in construction and the construction market was booming in Florida, so we moved to Florida.  My grandparents were here and we were supposed to be in Florida for two years until things picked back up in Utah.  (That is not really the point of this post just merely background info.)

So, while we lived in Utah, every other year or so my mom's parents would travel out for the holidays to see us.  The years they weren't coming to visit, my grandmother would send a big box full of Christmas gifts for us.  I remember more than most people about my childhood.  My sisters barely recall living there at all.  Yet, I remember the Christmas's when my grandparents were there, and the ones when they weren't.  I have vivid memories all the way back to two.  I often think it's strange how much I remember about my childhood, yet I can't tell you what we had for dinner two days ago.

Anymemory, one year in particular, my grandmother sent presents.  My mom, had wrapped them, and put them under the tree.  She was exhausted this particular year.  My sister had been born November 16th.  She was really sick all the time with asthma, in and out of the hospital.  I remember seeing her in the NICU with all the newborns.  She looked like a butterball turkey next to those little preemies.  She weighed 10lbs when she was born, so next to babies weighing 2 or 3 pounds she looked like a toddler.

Anyway, my mom walked next door to my aunt and uncle's house as my other sister and I were supposed to be napping.  I don't remember what she needed, just that she was gone briefly.  I was 4 1/2 at the time, which means Brooke had just turned 3 because her birthday is today, December 14th.  (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROOKE, LOVE YOU!)  When she returned, she found that we were not at all sleeping.  In fact, we had been quick busy.  UNWRAPPING EVERY SINGLE PRESENT.  Not only that, we ripped every box to bits.  We were banished to our rooms.  Probably for our own safety.  I do remember being in more trouble than I care to recollect.  (Mom says she wanted to beat us within an inch of our lives that day, and that she cried for hours, and that she considered us receiving nothing but coal.)

To this day, my sister still likes to know what she is getting before Christmas.  Or any other time.  If I know what she is getting, I can't tell her.  She will seriously get wicked pissed, and not talk to you if you won't tell her.  It's crazy.  My mom had to get quite creative in the hiding of gifts when my sister was little.  Oh, and mom hates wrapping Christmas gifts now!  She says gift bags are the coolest invention ever.

Merry Christmas My Lip Smackers and Hot Talkers!  Love you all! 

Memoir Monday: Friends

So, it's Memoir Monday, as hosted by the Famous in his own mind TravyG over at I like to Fish.  And we will get to the story in just a few moments.  But first, I have to give some love to my chatting buddies.  Apparently, there were some folks who didn't appreciate all the work that went into our group post on Friday.  I however can assure all my sweet peeps that there was care and effort, and in no way shape or form did the following people think that we were being "lazy".

This is for TripleH as I like to call her.  You all know her as The Queen, or Lee over at Headaches, Hotflashes & Hormones.  She will be forthwith known from here on out at my place as The Jewish Ninja!  See the photo for reference!  For those of you who haven't read her, or don't follower her, she is a snarkilicious read!  She is kind and caring.  She always responds to comments and follows those who follow her.  She is a loyal friend.  I am proud to call her one of mine!

Next up, The One and Only Duckalicious, as dubbed by moi!  You all know her as Daffy over at BATCRAP CRAZY.  I know that most of my followers also follow Daff.  If you don't please go see her.  She is uber funny.  She is quite possibly as sarcastic as I am, and smart, like wicked smart!  You will not be disappointed!  I mean c'mon, would I steer you wrong?  Wait, don't answer that.  It was a rhetorical question.  Anyduck, isn't her pic like absolutely the coolest?

Next  is June Cleaver.  Actually, it's Carol over at 3! A Charm.  June discusses life with Ward and Pinkus.  She also has a quick wit and some wicked funny love to spread around.  If you don't follow.  GO see her!  We have become fast friends and I am nothing if not a giver!  You want followers, and friends, and loyalty?  Here is your gift.  The picture?  That's her gift from little miss me!  That only leaves one more.  The next has been dubbed TravyG but Carol.  And she encourages him almost daily to give us an ultra fabulous, and I am sure, beyond HYSTERICAL vlog of RAP!

So, last but not least:  The soon to be vlog rappin' fisher of stories himself.  I found something special just for him.  But I am quite certain you all will be entertained as well.  Cause I was dyin'!

So that was my homage if you will to my wonderful chatting buddies.  We will carry on with the Memoir Monday portion of the post.  And how exactly does my bloggy love, as seen above relate to Memoir Monday?  It's about friends.

Without further ado, I share my story of a friend I wish I could find today.

Circa 1990, my senior year of highschool. We got a new student in a couple of my classes.  We became fast friends.  You know how you meet someone, and you just click?  Before you even find out how much you have in common, you just know somehow that the fates of whatever you believe in, have brought you together for some purpose that is greater than you?  That was me and Shonnie.  We were always together.  She was instantly my best friend.

We shared everything.  We laughed, and cried, and dreamed of the great big world out there.  We skipped school. (Duh!  It was senior year.)  We partied.  We played.  She got a job at the local pizza joint.  My sister ended up working there with her.  We just spent my entire senior year together.

She was with me the day I got married.  She stood with me.  She congratulated me, even though deep down, I knew she thought I was making the biggest mistake ever.  But she was my best friend, and she supported me no matter what.  Shortly after I got married, my ex-husband started showing his true colors.  He had a wicked mean jealous streak.  Like jealousy you have never seen.  UGLY is what it was.  Anyway, after many fights about Shonnie and us hanging out together he gave me an ultimatum.  "It's her or me."

I struggled.  Oh my God did I feel like I was going to die.  How could someone who supposedly loved me ask me to choose between my very best girlfriend and my husband, my marriage?  Why would he do that?  But, I loved him, at least I thought so.  I was only 18, and I talked to my best girlfriend.

She held me as I cried.  I sobbed.  We sobbed.  She wiped my tears.  And she said one of the most profound things anyone has ever said to me.  "I love you.  I respect that you have to do this.  I was your friend long before him, and I will be your friend when he is gone.  You will call me one day, and I will come to wipe your tears away again."  She was right.  She was there for me when my marriage was over.  But really, my marriage died that very day when she wiped my tears away the first time.

Time and travels have caused Shonnie and I to lose touch.  But I think of her every day.  Friendships like that never die.  I know one day we will find each other again, and I can't wait to sit and giggle together of days long past.

Memoir Monday: The light is On

It's time for that time honored tradition that my buddy Travis over at I Like to Fish instituted, some several weeks ago Memoir Monday.



When I was pregnant with my youngest I had cravings for all things sweet.  I would stop at least 3-4 times a week at Kripsy Kreme donuts and pick up a cinnamon roll or donut and a hot chocolate.  I had an hour drive into work everyday so the hot chocolate, which is served at the temperature of the sun's surface, would stay hot until I made it to work.  My little buddy Kooper was with me every morning as we made our way to the private sitter's house and then Mommy was off to work.  When the light was on, you all know the light.  The one that says "HOT and Now".  Oh how I loved that light.   When the light was on, we always got hot donuts. 

It became our thing.  Hot donuts, hot chocolate.  Sweet delicious, melt in your mouth, yumminess.  Kooper was addicted.  I didn't realize that we had a problem until I stopped having the cravings for sweet as often.  I would grab something before I left the house, or grab a biscuit at McDonald's or whatever.  Then, one morning we were on our way and my little man says "Mommy, can we stop?  The light is on!"  He had the cutest little plea, and he said 'on' like you hear a Bostonian say "one".  I had to stop.  It was the cutest thing evah!

It has become a cute joke in our family.  Anytime we drive by a Krispy Kreme, and the little red light is "on", someone in the car, in their best three year old impression says, "The light is on!"

Memoir Monday: The Finishing Move...wait what?

It's Monday again, and my buddy Travis at I love to fish has instituted this little thing we like to call Memoir Monday.



When you have children, sexy time can be stolen moments here and there, or scheduled date night, nightcaps.  Sometimes though scheduling those times kills the spontaneous nature of what should just happen when the mood strikes.  You know, when your lover looks at you just the right way, and you just want to jump up and run to the room and strip down to your nothings and show him how much you appreciate that he still looks at you that way.

The hubs and I still have date nights, and we think they are important.  Time alone to just talk to each other without constant interruption and to talk about things that don't include Cartoon Network, teachers, school or drama.  It's time to recharge the adult love batteries.  (And I am not talking about toys people get your minds out of the gutter!)

However, sometimes we still have those moments where we can't get enough of one another and it's the middle of the afternoon, the kids are up, and we will surreptitiously slink off to the bedroom.  This past week, we seized one of those opportunities.  Kids were busy doing homework and we furtively left the front room to find cover, under covers.  After 20 minutes or so, our absence was noted, and there came a rapping at the bedroom door.  The hubs yells through the door, "We'll be out in just a minute!"  We then hear Kamden announce to his siblings "They're having the sex with each other in there!"  I literally rolled off the bed laughing as tears streamed down my face.  The hubs laughed until his sides hurt.

Once we regained our composure, we dressed and joined the family in the front room.  None of the children acknowledged that Kamden had just made that ostentatious announcement.  Later, when the hubs and I chuckled about  the earlier comedy stylings of one Kamden, we started talking about the last time one of the kids had came a knockin' at the most inopportune of times. 

One night after the munchkins were tucked away, safe and sound in their beds, we were up late enjoying some adult time.  In the throws of passion, and while my hubs was making his way to the finishing move, he was interrupted by a little hand right upon his buttocks.  Wait what?  WTF?  I saw fear and panic cross a face that had just been full of rapture.  I look around the hubs shoulder, and there is my little Kooper.  OH MY!  The hubs was frozen.  I tried to speak, but nothing was coming out as my lips parted.  Then Kooper spoke, not to me, but to the hubs.  And this is classic "Daddy, why are you squishing Mommy?"  The hubs was unable to move for what seemed like an hour, but was surely just seconds.  He carefully rolled under the sheet as I pulled it up over myself and sat up to answer our sweet little cherub.

Me: "Daddy and I are just playing grown-up."
Koop:  "Was Daddy hurting you Mommy?"
Me: "No baby, I'm fine."
Koop: "Why were you guys squishing each other?"
Me: OMG!  This kid is killing me.  "C'mon sweetie, let's get you back in bed."
Hubs:  "G'Night Koop!"
Koop: "Night Daddy, don't hurt my Mommy no more!"

Once  I got our little prince back to bed, the hubs and I laughed until our sides hurt.  AND, the hubs, he hasn't forgotten to lock the door since!

Every once in awhile the hubs will look at me and say "Hey babe, wanna squish?"

Memoir Monday: A Sign, A Drunk, and The Po-Po

Well, it's Monday again, and we all know what that means!  Musings of the Teenage Idiot Memoir Monday sponsored by my buddy Travis over at I like to Fish.




As you all have read in previous Memoir Mondays, I used my genius IQ for some really smart completely ridiculous antics as a brilliant teenager.  In that vain, comes another musing from the teenage me.

We'll call this one:  A Sign, A Drunk and The Po-Po

So, many of my exploits will never be chronicled, cause let's face it, some things are best left unsaid, and I have to pretend to have some air of mystery about me, you know so that you all have some sliver of respect for the grown-up me.  But, this one makes me laugh every time I think about it, and maybe you all will find it funny too.  Perhaps not, it may be one of those, you just had to be there stories.

So, I lived with three guys.  Pierre, Daemien and Randy.  We had the apartment that everyone came to party at cause everyone was still living with the parents and whatnot.  At any given time, there could be any number of people there that none of us knew, they would just show up with friends, or friends of friends.  Daemien worked as an assistant manager at Little Caesar's Pizza which meant we always had pizza.  Pierre and Randy worked at Dunkin' Donuts, so we always had donuts.  Someone, and I don't recall who, had a fake ID, so we always had some sort of alcohol.  So we had beer, vodka and food.  Therefore, we ALWAYS had some type of company.  Go figure.

One night, we had a relatively quiet evening and Daemien had consumed way too much alcohol.  Well, he always consumed way too much, but that's another story.  Anyhoo, you know how drunk people can be.  You can't tell them anything.  Add to that, teenager, and well...DISASTER waiting to happen entertainment.  So we'll, call him The Drunk.

The Drunk decides that we need to go procure a street sign for Pierre.  Pierre was dating a girl named Kristin.  So, he got out a map and starts looking for Kristin anything, Lane, Road, Street, Circle.  The only one he could find was a good 45 minute drive from us.  It is probably noteworthy to mention, The Drunk and Pierre had both been arrested, more than once, for stealing street signs.  They were both on their own as it were, for stunts such as this.  The Drunk was not quite 18, Pierre was already 18, I was 18 and Randy was 19.

So,the drunk found Kristin Lane, and he was going to go and get it.  Pierre and Randy worked the overnight shift, making the donuts so they were going to work.  That left me.  I had planned to get some rest because the next morning we were going to Wild Waters when Pierre and Randy got off work.  I wasn't about to let the drunk drive, given that he had way over-served himself, so I said I would drive.

Off we went to get The Sign.  I drove the drunk's car, an early 70s model cherry red Volkswagen Bug.  We all drove VW Bugs, except Pierre who was a motorcycle man.  Now, said cherry red bug was a little on the loud side.  You wouldn't think that a glorified lawnmower engine would be that loud, but even today I am often awoken on a Saturday morning (when I would like to sleep in) by a neighbor mowing his lawn, so now that I think about it, I guess that it makes sense it was loud.  Anyway, we arrive some 45 minutes later in Marrietta to steal The Sign.

I let the drunk out, and turn around in a circle and sat in the vehicle at an idle.  I watch him try and try to remove the sign.  It won't come off.  We are there like 20 minutes, and nothing.  IT. Will. Not. Come. Off.  Finally, defeated, the drunk makes his way back to the car as a light comes on outside one of the houses in this neighborhood.  We take off.  I put my little foot on the floor and we book it down the highway.  The Drunk says he isn't ready to go back home so drive the long way around Jacksonville.

So as I am passing downtown Jax I see lights in the rear view mirror.  Shit.  Double shit!  I'm speeding.  Oh crap, I lost my driver's license.  Not sure where I left it.  Oh fuck me, I have a drunk minor in the seat next to me, no license, speeding, illegal nerf bars on the front of this Bug, and a crack in the windshield.  I. am. so. screwed!  I pull over.  Wait.  There are cops on both sides of the road?? WTF?  There are several behind me!?!  I am so going to jail. 

I roll down the window as the cop walks up and he says, "Please step out of the vehicle slowly and put your hands where I can see them." OMG!  About that time I see the drunk being pulled from the vehicle with a gun pointed in his back.  Are you freaking kidding me?  No, I do not jest!  So, scared shitless, I exit the vehicle, very slowly.  The officer asked for ID, and I stuttered out that I had lost my driver's license.  He escorted me back to his vehicle and offered me a seat in the back of his shiny police car.  I watched as the cops are patting down my partner in crime and sit shaking like a leaf in the backseat.  Finally, the drunk is dumped into the back next to me.

I start giggling.

Me:  I have never seen the inside of a cop car before.
Drunk:  I have, it isn't that fun.
Me:  What are they doing out there.
Drunk:  We woke up a police officer while trying to get the sign.
Me:  Well that's fan-fucking-tastic.
Drunk:  Shhh...don't talk.
Me: Why not.
Drunk:  They are listening to us.
Me:  Ah...good to know.  Are they gonna take us to jail?
Drunk:  I hope not, my parents are on vacation.  I will have to stay until they get back in town.
Me:  You're screwed Dude!  Randy can come bail me out in the morning.
Drunk:  Well good for fucking you!
Me:  Oh. Sorry.
Drunk:  Shut up already.

Policeman, we'll call him Po-Po, gets into the vehicle.  Reads us our rights.  DAMNIT!  We are under arrest?!

Po-Po asks  me name, DOB, height, weight, eye color, address.  I deliver full name, birthdate,  5'9, 125lbs., brown, address.  Po-Po asks the drunk name, DOB, height, weight, eye color, address.  The drunk responds with full name, birthdate, 5"10, 125lbs., brown, same address.

Po-Po:  You are an awful big boy to weigh 125lbs.
Drunk:  Oh, I mean 225lb.
Me: hysterical laughter
Po-Po:  Snickers.
Drunk: glares at me
Po-Po:  Let me get this straight, you(speaking to me) live with him(motions to the drunk)
Me:  Yes sir, and two other guys.
Po-Po: Rolls eyes and turns around

The Po-Po runs our info.  I come up clean!  Yeah for me!  Po-Po decides to give us a break.  He asks if the drunk can drive.  I tell him, probably not.  They exit vehicle for sobriety check.  Nope.  Still drunk.  Po-Po reluctantly writes me a ticket(for not having a driver's license on me) and apologizes for having to do so.  He apologizes for the over exuberant asshole that we woke up.  Apologizes for the gun in the drunk's back, and thanks me for not letting the drunk drive in the first place.

So the drunk decided to hang up his theft shoes.  No more street signs!  And we spent a lovely afternoon at Wild Waters that afternoon!

Memoir Monday - Once Upon a Time, I was an Idiot Teenager

Once upon a time, there was this idiot teenager.  I know, idiot teenager is redundant.  Teenager=lack of any good sense whatsoever

It's Monday again, and my buddy Travis over at I like to Fish instituted this Memoir Monday thing last week.  It went over pretty well, so I am sticking with it for a bit.

Yesterday, the hubs and I were downloading some music, the legal way, via iTunes.  I would kill to have all the cds I have purchased  over the years.  I have lost so many of them, through moving, or playing them too many times in the car, before the invention of those MP3 players and iPods and such.  I have probably spent enough on music to put at least two of our four children through college.  But, then what else do teenagers go to work for?  I went so I could buy music, and clothes.  But, I digress, and those are topics for another day.

We are a music lovin' family.  At any given time when the family is going down the road, you can count on all of us singing some 80s mega hit.  My kids have all the words to Mr. Roboto, Don't Stop Believing, Bohemian Rhapsody and many others down pat.  It is probably quite a spectacle to witness for on-lookers.  I often notice that we get a lot of "looks" from vehicles when we are stopped at traffic lights.  However, we laugh and continue on in our merriment.  Anyshizzle, we (the hubs and I) have been missing quite a few of our old favorites.  When we venture out on our own, we listen to the 80s and 90s stations on the Sirius Satellite station.  It came free for a year with my Jeep! Go me!  Every time we are listening one of us will say "I need that song" or "Ooo, that's a good one, I need to download that one!"

This evening when we picked up necessities at the local Wal-Mart, I added an iTunes card.  There were several "must-have-that's" on the list.  And varied they were: The Police, U2, Ronnie Milsap, Alabama, Bauhaus, Love and Rockets, Metallica, Sheryl Crow, 10,000 Maniacs, Edie Brickell, The Verve Pipe, Tonic, Jefferson Airplane, Foreigner, Our Lady Peace, Journey, Sarah McLachlan and last but certainly not least, Depeche Mode.  I bought, for the probably millionth time, the album I know inside and out, up and down, backwards and forwards.

I remember this album with memories that are both dear and near to my heart, and other memories that, certainly are not some of my proudest moments.  This album came out and became popular the year I graduated from high school.  I was a rebellious jackass at 17, and 18, and 19, and well....hell, I still am sometimes.  I moved out of my parents house about three weeks after I turned 18.  Again, not my proudest moment.  I wanted to be wild, and free, and stay out as late as I deemed appropriate.  I moved in with some friends.  Daemien, Pierre and Randy.  Three guys.  Again, not my proudest moment.  Daemien was one of my best friends, as it turns out, now my brother-in-law.  Randy, first husband.  Pierre, is still one of our nearest and dearest friends.  He's family as far as we are concerned.

PARENTAL ADVISORY:  IF YOU CONTINUE PAST THIS POINT AND YOU KNOW ME PERSONALLY, YOU MAY NEVER LOOK AT ME THE SAME.  STOP READING NOW!  I TOLD YOU SO, IF YOU ARE STILL READING, YOU WERE WARNED!

Amongst other things that I consider to be, less than my finer moments, and certainly something, in hindsight I would take a "redo" on, is one of the strongest memories I recall each time I hear this album.  The three guys and I, along with a gaggle of other idiot teenagers who, on any given evening, spent every chance we got hanging out and being stupid, would find three or four jiffy markets where we could purchase butane.  We would save the plastic bags that the newspaper came in, because even though we were idiots, we did read the newspaper daily.  And, believe it or not, we all had full time jobs.  Miracles, I tell you, only miracles saw fit to make sure we made it through each day, alive.

So once we had purchased three or four containers of butane, we would gather back at our pathetic excuse for an apartment and get out the plastic newspaper sleeves.  Pop Violator in the "boom box" and fill those plastic sleeves full of butane.  Shake the bag.  Feel it get cold.   Inhale.  Hold it.  Exhale.  Feel the burn....wha...wha...wha...high!  We listened to that album high on butane, more times than I care to remember.  It truly is a miracle that none of us ever required a trip to the emergency room.

Years later, I was watching Rescue 911.  You remember that show?  William Shatner hosted it.  Anywho, I was watching an episode and the idiot kids were "huffing".  Now, every other episode I had ever watched, something tragic happened, and then Rescue 911 came and saved the day.  That was the whole premise of the show.  Every time, tragedy, save the day.  Tragedy, save the day.  Not this episode.  One of the kids who was "huffing" butane, DIED.  I gasped.  My heart sunk.  I was transported right back to that living room floor, where I, and my friends spent so many times, inhaling butane.

First, I had never heard the term huffing.  Second, I lived a sheltered life.  Third, while "huffing" it never occurred to me that we could die.  Fourth, I was an idiot.  And lastly, I WAS AN IDIOT!

Each time I hear the album, I thank God that I made it through my teenage years alive.  Because let's face it, obviously I was tempting Fate each time I did something THAT stupid.  And if I was THAT stupid, it can only be attributed to God having a plan for me!  Seriously, it's a miracle!

Well, that's my Memoir Monday.  I have many other memories that go with my Depeche Mode Violator album, and many reasons to love it that don't include stupidity.  Enjoy your Monday folks!

Remember, music makes your spirit fill with youth. 

Love!

Memoir Monday: Dog Days of Summer

There is this great local website that we have here in the Jacksonville, FL area that I visit on a regular basis for upcoming events for the kiddos.  Jax4kids.com lists free and pay events from Public libraries, special engagements, to whatever.  They also have scouted out where kids eat free every day of the week, by surrounding areas, since Jacksonville is SO spread out, and a commuter area for several cities in the greater area.

I was searching the site today for a pumpkin patch, a real one, not the come-to-our-church-patch-and-overpay-pumpkin-patch, and found no place to go for pumpkins, BUT, found something else.  So, in typical, fly by the seat of my pants, and plan nothing but go somewhere cool with the kids fashion, I made plans at 2:45pm to do something at 4:00pm on the other side of town.  My husband is such a good sport!  Today is launch day for Diary of a Wimpy Kid 4: Dog Days.  Our favorite place Barnes & Noble had a launch party, and we went as soon as the boys got home.  It was a major hit.  There was a letter from Jeff Kinney, read aloud to all the children.  They had a drawing for a couple of t-shirts, and the poster from the window(which was seriously cool).  The boys didn't win but they were thrilled with the games and the Release Party!  They got free temporary tatoos, book marks and we purchased the book!  We finished off the night with Five Guys Burgers for dinner(everyone's fav)!

So my buddy Travis over at I like to Fish has instituted a new Memoir Monday tradition, so I am gonna give it a shot.

Since I made you sit through my impromptu family excursion to B&N to acquire the latest installment of DoWK, Dog Days of Summer, I thought I would give you a Dog Days of Summer Memoir.

When I was a teenager we used to go to Girls Camp as a part of our young women's group at church.  Girls from 12-16 would spend a week at camp, we learned first aide, swimming, had nightly gatherings, sang songs, did crafts, and enjoyed fellowship with each other.  It was always HOT, and I mean REALLY HOT.  Florida is not the place to camp if there is no air conditioning, but somehow we always survived the week.  

As with most camps, there were always a lot of pranks.  And girls can be quite "catty".  We would always do the typical camp counselor pranks, like toilet paper the leaders cabins.  Sometimes that would include fishing line so they were locked in for a while.  That was always a good one.  But my ALL TIME favorite prank ever, was one that still makes me laugh when I hear a certain song.

So, once you completed your four years of camp you could come back as a Jr. Counselor at 17.  The girls who decided to come back enjoyed it because they got a cool cabin and got to stay out later than the rest of us, and they didn't have a cabin counselor (OLD PERSON) as their leader.  My last year, I had the coolest counselor ever.  She brought all sorts of "supplies" for pranks, and we were going to prank everyone!  BUT, we found a "MARK" right away.  One of the JR. Counselors was a prude, and nobody likes a prude, and she was a Busy Body, and nobody likes a busybody.  So, we planned.  We gathered "intel", meaning simply we watched habits.

The Jr. Counselors showered late because they didn't have to be in their cabins with lights out as early as the rest of us.  We noticed she only used one bathroom stall.  Awesome!  We snuck into the bathroom late, covered the toilet bowl with Saran Wrap, and covered the seat with Vaseline.  We made it back to the cabin with lights out for cabin checks.  Then, with our fearless cabin counselor, we snuck out to watch our plan in action.  We watched the Jr. Counselors enter the bathroom as we peered around the corner of the side of the bathrooms.  We snuck around to the door and peered in just as we hear.....bear butt hit wet pavement, and a SQUEAL!  Amongst laughter, we RAN FOR OUR LIVES back to the cabin. 

Word spread quickly of our prank through the camp.  Each time we went to the Mess Hall for breakfast, lunch and dinner, when the Jr. Counselors would enter the hall, they were greeted with a rousing chorus of "Slip Slidin' Away".  It was seriously, the best prank ever!  And, to this day, if I hear "slip sliding away", I laugh and remember Summer Camp!