tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42584872580474652532024-02-20T23:22:53.993-05:00I've Got POOP In My Pocket.& OTHER AMAZING DISCOVERIES OF MOTHERHOOD.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger342125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-62826845485692044862016-07-02T11:02:00.003-04:002016-07-02T11:02:37.403-04:00Shots~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
At 1:03 AM this morning, Jake woke me up.<br />
<br />
To ask me:<br />
<br />
"Mom. What is an antibiotic?"<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
<br />
He did.<br />
<br />
And because I continue to encourage learning and made a solemn promise to myself that I would always answer their questions using age-appropriate language, I rubbed my eyes, knocked on my noggin, and tried to answer his question.<br />
<br />
I wasn't doing a very good job, because he wouldn't stop interrupting me with even MORE questions...<br />
<br />
(ASIDE....to all of Jake's former, current, and future educators.....I AM SOOOO SOOOOOO VERRRRY SORRRRY!!!!)<br />
<br />
(ASIDE #2......to the person who called us The Family of Interruptors....KUDOS)<br />
<br />
So I switched metaphors and decided to use the metaphor of vaccinations.<br />
<br />
I got his attention, because he's not a fan of .... SHOTS.<br />
<br />
But he IS a fan of history! It's become his favorite subject in school, he loves watching documentaries, and he has begun to reference Revolutionary War, Civil War, WWII, and Vietnam battles by name. And he's become quite the expert on the 13 Hours of Benghazi. Loves learning about "almost all" of the Presidents....<br />
<br />
So I decided to use the Polio Vaccine as an example.<br />
<br />
I asked him if he knew of anybody famous who had Polio.<br />
<br />
He excitedly exclaimed, "YEAH! FDR!"<br />
<br />
Correct.<br />
<br />
I then told him about Dr. Jonas Salk.<br />
<br />
"His name was SOCK, Mom?"<br />
<br />
"No, SALK. Like WALK, TALK...."<br />
<br />
I try to move on. Since it's 1:13 AM.<br />
<br />
I think I did a respectable job,<br />
<br />
Until he started screaming. Yes, my lamb wa screaming. At 1:17 AM.<br />
<br />
MOMMMMM!!!!!<br />
<br />
YOU told DOCTOR JILL that it was OKAY to GIVVVVE ME<br />
<br />
POLLLLLL EEEEEEEE OHHHHHHH????<br />
<br />
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??????<br />
<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
If only he knew I "told" Doctor Jill to give him Measles, Mumps, Rubella, Diptheria, Whooping Cough, yearly doses of Influenza.....<br />
<br />
I'll keep that little tidbit for another day.<br />
<br />
Because, I am 100% confident that day will come.<br />
<br />
~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-67423257938300850892016-07-01T20:55:00.005-04:002016-07-01T20:55:40.832-04:00Arby's ~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
I got takeout from the brand new Arby's in Clermont tonight. WOOT WOOT!!! This town has been chomping at the bit for it to finally open!<br />
<br />
Before I left, Jake said, "You know what I want, right?"<br />
<br />
Me: Yes. A plain Roast Beef sandwich with Curly Fries.<br />
<br />
Jake: Ok and NO ONIONS!<br />
<br />
Me: Dude, it's NOT McDonalds. They don't have burgers. Just roast beef, chicken, and turkey sandwiches.<br />
<br />
I left in the pouring Florida rain.<br />
<br />
12 cars in line in front of me, 12 cars behind.<br />
<br />
Got home in a much heavier rainstorm, dripping wet.<br />
<br />
I got Jake's food ready for him, and allowed him to eat in front of the TV because it's Few Rules Friday and he "worked" so hard today, "helping" fix the roof by jumping off of it into the pool.<br />
<br />
Whatevs.<br />
<br />
He takes one bite of his plain Classic Arby's Roast Beef Sandwich and yells:<br />
<br />
THIS IS NOTTTTT ROAST PULLED BEEF PORK!<br />
<br />
Me: ??????????<br />
<br />
Jerk, I mean JAKE: I WANTED that pulled roast beef pork sandwich with BBQ sauce on it that Dad makes!<br />
<br />
Me: Did you want beef OR pork? Cuz they don't have pulled pork. Only deliciously sinful synthetic beef.<br />
<br />
Jake: I THOUGHT you HEARD me CORRECTLY when you left! THIS is not roast pulled beef pork!<br />
<br />
Me: You are correct. Beef comes from a cow, pork comes from a pig and Arby's comes from a laboratory.<br />
<br />
JerkyJake: I don't want anything from there EVER again!<br />
<br />
Me: Fine by me.<br />
<br />
Jake: Except their roast beef curly fries. I DO like those.<br />
<br />
??????????????????????<br />
<br />
~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-60869519078250616712016-07-01T14:42:00.002-04:002016-07-01T14:42:53.089-04:00Silly String~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
Team Fallon has a tradition of whipping out Silly String on birthdays and special occasions. Reilly's 14th birthday party on the lake was no exception. When I handed over a case of Silly String to a few of the boys and said "Have at it, everyone's fair game, but you HAVE to get Reilly FIRST." They looked at me in open-mouthed shock, thinking I was either the craziest or the coolest Mom in the universe or a bit of both, until I nudged my head to where Reilly was standing, and then the 2016 Silly String War was ON! It was, as always, AWE-SOME, DUDES.<br />
<br />
Unbelievably, a few cans of Silly String remained long after the party was over.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 4 days and 15 minutes ago.<br />
<br />
All I heard was a high pitched vampire-like scream, and a Ferocious Fourteen year old lowering the vampire voice to that of a wolverine as she bellowed, "YOU LITTLE Bxxxx!!!!!", followed by the slamming of the front door.<br />
<br />
Whence Ferocious Fallon reentered the domicile, I asked in a normal tone of voice,<br />
<br />
"Lemme guess. Jake came in the house and sprayed you with Silly String?"<br />
<br />
Ferocious: YEAH! And, he did it IN THE HOUSE!<br />
<br />
Wise, wise Mom: Hmmmmmm. And he was unprovoked?<br />
<br />
Ferocious: Well....<br />
<br />
Wise, wise Mom: (waiting ever so patiently)<br />
<br />
Ferocious: I sprayed him first.......but I did it OUTSIDE!!!! I would NEVER do it in the house, MOM!<br />
<br />
Wise, wise Mom hath decided to call this one a draw. Even though Reilly started it, and used an expletive and should be punished, and Jake should be punished for spraying Silly String in da house... I'm silently exploding with glee inside that Jake is FINALLY fighting back at the 8 or so years of bullying he hath endured at the hands of Ferocious.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I'm a A Bad Mom. A Real Bad Mom.<br />
<br />
~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-5707700080902428582016-06-29T09:45:00.004-04:002016-06-29T11:09:09.701-04:00The Hangover~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
Several months ago, we were treated to a visit from our St. Louis peeps, Aunt Debbie and Uncle Kelly. We visited them back in 2009 during our 'round the world in 40 days BIG TRIP', (Revisit them in <a href="https://poopinmypocket.blogspot.com/2009/07/day-fourteen-tending-bar-and-motorcade.html"><span style="color: black;"><b>Tending Bar and Motorcade</b></span></a> ).<br />
<br />
Anyhoo, we headed out for lunch at a Bubba's Catfish House here in Clermont. YUMMMM-O.<br />
<br />
<img alt="Image result for bubba's catfish house clermont florida" height="375" 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" width="640" /><br />
<br />
All of us were hankering for some seafood.<br />
<br />
Except, of course.....<br />
<br />
The Tweenager formerly known as Captain Jake Sparrow.<br />
<br />
Let's just call him JAKE for now.<br />
<br />
He doesn't like seafood. Actually, he DOES like seafood, he just THINKS he doesn't. Does this mentality ring a bell? Yeah, he's still the Captain.<br />
<br />
So we talked him into ordering some popcorn shrimp and mac n cheese. He liked the sound of popcorn shrimp because he eats several bags of popcorn EVERY SINGLE DAY.<br />
<br />
We chit chat for awhile, munch on some conch fritters, Jake becomes the center of attention, because, well, he's like the sun in his own galaxy. He doesn't do it on purpose. It just IS.<br />
<br />
Food arrives. And it was just as YUMMMMO as expected.<br />
<br />
Big Bad Dad and I are curious to see what Jake thinks of the popcorn shrimp.<br />
<br />
He took one of the shrimp, and DOUSED it in cocktail sauce, then put it in his mouth.<br />
<br />
I knew that "Somethin' Bad About Ta Happen", because I KNEW that he THOUGHT that he was dousing his shrimp in....KETCHUP.<br />
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<img alt="Image result for cocktail sauce popcorn shrimp" height="425" 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" width="640" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA<br />
<br />
He took one big bite, and his eyes popped out of his head, Muppet-style, he coughed, he gulped some water, his eyes were blinking, he swallowed, and he said:<br />
<br />
"What the HECK kind of KETCHUP is THIS?"<br />
<br />
I think it was Reilly who said, "Dude, it's not ketchup. It's cocktail sauce."<br />
<br />
Oh buoy.<br />
<br />
And then the drama started.<br />
<br />
"Whoa."<br />
<br />
"I'm not feeling so good."<br />
<br />
"I think I'm drunk,"<br />
<br />
"Dad, is this what it feels like when you drink a lot of beers?"<br />
<br />
"Whew."<br />
<br />
"OH WOW."<br />
<br />
"I'm hammered."<br />
<br />
"I think I have a hangover."<br />
<br />
We all let this go on for several minutes, as the word 'cocktail' caused the hypochondria that was nothing but ketchup + horseradish in Jake's mouth.<br />
<br />
Finally, Uncle Kelly had to end it. I was kinda sad, cuz this was wayyyyyy too funny to end.<br />
<br />
Uncle Kelly: "Jake, do you know what the word 'cocktail' means?"<br />
<br />
Drunk Jake: "Beer."<br />
<br />
Uncle Kelly: "No. It means a 'mixture' of things."<br />
<br />
Drunk Jake: "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it means I'm drunk and I have a hangover."<br />
<br />
<br />
~<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-88000968387365352452016-06-28T11:33:00.001-04:002016-06-28T11:33:14.309-04:00Revelation~<br />
So.<br />
<br />
The world's a cray-cray place right now, isn't it?<br />
<br />
As the (over-involved, yet not a "drone") parent of a Teen and Tween, WHOA!!!!<br />
<br />
Jake is 11.<br />
Reilly is 14.<br />
<br />
At their level, which, even though they are extraordinarily intelligent and both are ALLEGEDLY 'geniuses' on paper, how does one explain "BREXIT" at their varying degrees of curiosity and attention spans? <br />
<br />
How does one explain L? or G? or B? or T or Q? Honestly, I don't even understand T or Q. Really, I don't. I can't stop thinking about that scene in Kindergarten Cop where the 5 year old says "Boys have a penis, and girls have a vagina." <br />
<br />
How do I tell my very strong, fiercely independent, dare I say 'ferocious' fourteen year old daughter that I cannot allow her to just go to the restroom alone while I shop at certain retail establishments? How do I explain to her that I am more concerned for her safety NOW than I was five years ago? She is unusually 'worldly' for her age. I'm sure some of you will judge me harshly for this, but she and I have been watching "Criminal Minds" together for YEARS. We share many interests. Including behavioral analysis. And serial killers. And how important it is for a beautiful, young girl who just so happens to fit the 'sex trafficking' profile to a TEE, to be able to arm, protect, and defend herself when she is alone, and what behaviors are necessary for her to learn to keep herself safe and ALIVE in this world where so many things just CANNOT be explained.<br />
<br />
How do I explain that I CANNOT explain why, a young man, SLAUGHTERED 49 innocent who were just out doing some 'adult' partying, in THEIR BIRTHPLACE? How do I explain that I CANNOT explain that it still HAS NOT yet to be determined if there is another threat? If this monster was part of a vast global conspiracy? If individuals were targeted because of what they believe in?<br />
<br />
How do I explain, that I can no longer PROCLAIM, pretty much ANYTHING?<br />
<br />
Wait........WHAT?<br />
<br />
Rojo?<br />
<br />
Fallon?<br />
<br />
Soapbox Stealer?<br />
<br />
What the HELLLLLLLLLLLL?<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
I lose more arguments than I win.<br />
<br />
I'm in Arguing Anonymous right now. Working on my first chip. Not there yet. <br />
<br />
But I am apologizing like crazy. To just about everyone. Just last week, I apologized to someone for something I did a YEAR ago. She laughed. Not to be mean. She laughed because she didn't even remember. But I did. And then SHE apologized for laughing. And we're totally good. And I've got a pretty long list of more long overdue apologies that I must attempt.<br />
<br />
And heretofore comes my latest revelation.<br />
<br />
In case I haven't been "Crystal Clear" a la Colonel Nathan Jessup, I've been as far right of a right winger as one could be. No need to add any more than that. Just understand that I have been. That, jointly with my husband, we've raised our children with a certain conservative belief system that some of our families and friends have supported and encouraged, and yet some have raised many an eyebrow towards.<br />
<br />
I'm no longer a far right wing conservative.<br />
<br />
No one is more surprised than I am.<br />
<br />
I'm 45 years old.<br />
<br />
I don't think it's a middle aged crisis.<br />
<br />
I am not on any mind-altering drugs.<br />
<br />
I don't watch any news channels anymore.<br />
<br />
I keep myself educated, as I absolutely love the art of learning. About anything. I just love to read. And I have an incredibly annoying habit of inundating my kiddos with "Fallon Fun Facts!".<br />
<br />
So here's what I think I am now.<br />
<br />
Confused.<br />
<br />
Uncertain.<br />
<br />
Leaning nowhere.<br />
<br />
Desperately searching to find common ground.<br />
<br />
Still conservative, but not a winged one.<br />
<br />
I don't have a label.<br />
<br />
I think I'm beginning to think that no one should have a label.<br />
<br />
This is a bit problematic.<br />
<br />
Because my husband is staunchly standing his ground that I am in direct opposition to his frame of mind, to a frame of mind I once shared, to a frame of mind that I directly or indirectly directed him towards from, as he is known to say, "Jump Street".<br />
<br />
My world is a very confusing place right now.<br />
<br />
But so is yours.<br />
<br />
How do we explain this to our children?<br />
<br />
I can't even explain it to myself.<br />
<br />
~<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-75473129765200003402016-06-08T13:06:00.000-04:002016-06-08T13:33:34.363-04:00Dream Dream Dream~<br />
<br />
<br />
<img height="640" src="http://tasteofcountry.com/files/2016/03/Came-here-to-Forget-Cover.jpg" width="640" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
I think I've posted about my totally cray-cray dreams before.<br />
<br />
I'd like to say they are a result of the mind-altering drugs I take.<br />
<br />
But I've had crazy dreams all my life. Like, CRAYYYZEEEEEE dreams.<br />
<br />
Two days ago I dreamt about Blake Shelton being a polygamist who chopped off all the left arms of his many wives. I was his third wife. He let me keep both my arms to help me secure him more wives.<br />
<br />
Crayzee.<br />
<br />
I know.<br />
<br />
So, admittedly, I have more than just a secret crush on Blake Shelton.<br />
<br />
I mean, like, HELLO? How can anyone NOT have a crush on this dude? Grown heterosexual MEN have ManCrushes or BroMances with this brilliantly talented, hysterically funny, giant, flannel shirt wearing, never clean shaven, self deprecating, Ford truck driving, hunk of a humble Oklahoman. Heckfire, if his next album was named, "I'm Blake and I'm YUMMY", it would probably break the internet.<br />
<br />
I have such a gi-normous crush on Blake Shelton, that I've convinced my whole family to love him as much as I do. So much so, that even my HUSBAND loves him, and sends me links to youtube clips that I just "might" have missed. Like this one:<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7WYmWo28svg" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
Highly unlikely, but I so appreciate that my husband lets me have a pretend boyfriend since he's out of town so much.<br />
<br />
So last night, I had yet another Cray Cray dream about Blake Shelton. Which makes no sense, because I didn't see or hear any Blake Shelton yesterday. I wish there was a way to install a camera in my brain so I could just play it for everyone like a movie, rather than try to describe it.<br />
<br />
I'll try, but it's Cray Cray, so if you can't keep track, don't worry, it's bizarre. But no chopped off limbs, thank goodness.<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
I took my kids to school in the morning, and on my way home, I went to Walgreens, dressed in my usual "yoga panted, no makeup, clearly I'm a Mom" self. And there was Blake. In Walgreens. MY Walgreens. In CLERMONT. Wait....what? He was doing a surprise promotion of his new album.<br />
Yeah, right, whatever. I figured I was at Madame Tussaud's. This couldn't have been real. But it was. And it was definitely a surprise, because there was NOBODY in the store. Except employees. And me. And....CARRIE UNDERWOOD holding a baby girl. Wait.....what?<br />
<br />
Apparently they are married. And Blake is absolutely CooCoo for Cocoa Puffs over this baby girl.<br />
Who is named SHELBY. He is singing songs to her and rocking her, and she just looks at his face and reaches a hand to touch his beard. And my heart is about to explode and I am about to bawl my eyes out over how much this man loves his little girl. I can't even move, I've been Jedi-mind-melded or something.<br />
<br />
Eventually, they leave, said they have another engagement. Ok, whatevs. But as he walks out the door, he's holding this perfectly pink dressed little baby girl, and I JUMP on his back LIKE A MONKEY, and scream, "I LOVE YOUUUUU BLAAAAAAAKE!" Kind of like I do on his Twitter account with eleventy million other men and women every day.<br />
<br />
So I go about my day. After I tweeted and texted and Facebooked eleventy thousand people "OMGEEEE, I hugged Blake Shelton today!!!!!" At the grocery store, I bump into this kind, older woman, who seems to be unaware of her surroundings. I ask her if I can assist her in any way. She smiles, and in an Oklahoma drawl, sweetly tells me that she needs a ride home because the person who was going to pick her up got held up. I told her that I would happily take her home, if she trusted me to do so. She was very kind, and smiled, and said, yes, she trusted anyone who would ask an elderly woman if she needed help. I told her I had to go pickup my kids from school, would she mind if we did that first and I would take her where she needed to go on our way home? She kindly smiled and said "Oh yes, I just love children!"<br />
<br />
So we pick up my kids. Who are very confused about who is this strange old woman in our car. They get in, with all their "stuff", but don't close the doors. Suddenly, about 12 of my daughter's friends pile in as well. Wait....what??? Only one of them is on my approved "pick up list". None of the carline teachers seem to care. Maybe cuz it's Friday. Who knows. They are all fantastic kids and I love them all. <br />
<br />
So, amidst all the teenage drama and chatter and chaos, I said, "Hey Dudes! Guess who I met today?" And my daughter's BFF said, "Duh, Blake Shelton." Wait.....what??? How do you know that? She said, "Why do you think all of us are in your car? All of our Moms who saw your posts on Facebook called the school and said you were picking us up so we can meet him too." Huh?<br />
<br />
My daughter said, "I'm pretty sure she's making this up, but whatevs, We can just have a party at my house." Ummmm, yeah, okay. I guess. Since I've been entrusted with all these kids, I'm assuming that's okay. But....I don't know where Mr. Shelton is, as he left the Walgreens this morning, after I mauled him like a bear.<br />
<br />
The kind, wide grinned old woman pipes up, "I know where he is. He's back at Walgreens."<br />
<br />
Huh? <br />
<br />
"I know this, because I'm his MOM."<br />
<br />
SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! The entire herd of teenaged cattle in my SUV are wide mouthed and SILENT. I hit the pedal to the metal to get to Walgreen's faster than a speeding bullet.<br />
<br />
Sure enough, there's my super not so secret crush, at the same table, signing autographs, his blue eyes twinkling, with a smile wider than Oklahoma. As we try to maneuver through the many people waiting in line, teenagers still wide mouthed and silent, Blake sees his Mama, and jumps up from the table and tears run down his eyes, and he just bear hugs her and keeps saying, "Mama! I love my Mama!" And she is just oozing with pride over the attention. And me and the herd o' teenagers just stand there in a trance-like awed silence. We eventually join the line of people waiting for autographs. I see Blake's Mama point to me and smile. And he gets this quizzical look on his face. He starts walking towards my herd. I'm about to have another heart attack. My daughter and her BFF start to literally shake. He embraces me like he does everyone he meets, and says, "I thought you were a crazed fan when you jumped on me this morning, but my wife Carrie said she thought you were genuine. And now that my Mama told me how kind you were to her, not even knowing that she was Blake Shelton's Mama, well now I know it too. Love you, SIS." And he walks back to the table. <br />
<br />
OMGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE<br />
<br />
Suddenly, my daughter and the herd think I am the coolest Mom in the universe of cool Moms. They are texting and Instagramming and snapping pics and taking videos and sharing them with the world. I cannot speak. My son tells me, "I love you, Mama." and hugs me big. I can't even move. <br />
<br />
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that STEVE MARTIN (!) has entered Walgreens. Of course, none of the herd knows who he is. He walks directly towards me, and says, "Hello. My name is Steve. I was wondering if you would accompany to BLAKE'S PARTY AT HIS HOUSE IN WINDERMERE later tonight?" Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I can't speak. My son and daughter in unison scream, "YES, SHE WILL!" I said, "Um, I'm married." Steve just smiled. My kids scream, "DAD WILL BE TOTALLY FINE WITH THIS MOM!"<br />
<br />
Steve goes and stands next to Blake. Me and the Herd O'Teens finally reach the front of the line. I let all the kids go first. Blake gets all of them to engage and open up and soon they are all blushing and laughing and everyone of them buys every item he is selling. He smiles and says, "On the house kids. You have a good Mama. Can't put a price on that." Wow.<br />
<br />
When I get to the table, Blake says, "Will you join my friend Steve and my Mama at our party tonight?" I start to stammer, I um, I um, I don't think I can, since I'm married. Blake pulls out a business card, and writes something on the back. He says, "I'm trusting you with my Mama, and I'm trusting you with this number. Please ask your husband to call me. I'd like for your whole family to join with mine. Steve Martin loves your blog. He wanted to meet you. And your kids."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4258487258047465253" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Somehow I get the Herd and Blake's Mama back into the car, I take Mama home, shocked that she lives within walking distance of my house. Arriving at my house, the Herd jumps out of the car and heads for the pool. I sit on my couch in stunned silence. A few minutes later, my husband enters the door and says, "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready? We got us a party to go to! I don't think Blake Shelton wants to see you in yoga pants for the third time today."<br />
<br />
And then I woke up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-89905024534690742182016-06-05T10:46:00.000-04:002016-06-05T10:46:01.077-04:00The Return of Team Fallon<br />
~<br />
<br />
I'm baaaaaaaaack.<br />
<br />
It's been awhile, as the song says.<br />
<br />
Lots has happened.<br />
<br />
No surprise there, If you know anything about Team Fallon, and of course, since none of us four would know a secret if it walked up and shook our hands, thIen you old fans already know allllllll that's happened. But if there are any newbies out there, I'll get y'all caught up.<br />
<br />
MOST importantly -<br />
<br />
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">WE KICKED CANCER'S BUTT!!!!!!</span></b></div>
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<img src="https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/1618641_10201497926030260_1391104892_n.jpg?oh=8819219cac5137c81caff097586186a5&oe=57D6CB4B" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It wasn't easy. We didn't do it alone. It could have been a lot worse. But all that matters is, we are now at the two year post-remission checkup, and Billy's numbers have NEVER been better. There is no sign of the Hairy Cells anywhere in his body. And the Oncologist doesn't seem to think that will change at anytime in the "near" future. Leukemia is weird. Like, they say you're in remission, but, that you'll always have leukemia. I used to be smarter, but even then I would have had a tough time grasping it. So I just hold on to the percentages. I'm kind of a statistic geek. Like, there's a 92% chance that the Hairy Cells will NOT return in the next 10 years. Those are awesome odds. Because if a baseball player hit the ball 92% of the time? Well, that means he'd be batting .920. And that's darn near impossible. So I'm thrilled with the 92%. We all are. Cancer changed Billy, in many ways. I think it changes him daily. Some good, some not so good. But all that matters is that he's still here. And we can ONLY be grateful for that.<br />
<br />
One more thing before I tie up this mini-update:<br />
<br />
We're not pirates anymore.<br />
<br />
Ok, you can stop crying now,<br />
<br />
We've all grown into different phases of new nicknames.<br />
<br />
The Captain will ALWAYS be a Captain, of something. And he'll always be The Spawn, Buckshot, and Janice. Lately, his father and I will refer to him when texting each other as: YOUR BOY. As in, "you ain't gonna believe what YOUR BOY did today.'<br />
<br />
Reilly the Red is currently red as a lobster, but she's also known as Thundercalves, Run Reilly Run, Faster Fallon Faster, Foulin' Fallon, Ralph, and....my personal favorite....The Alien Teenager Formerly Known As My Daughter.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah. We are in the throes of adolescence. Many, many, many, stories to come in that department.<br />
<br />
Two Swords? Doesn't do much swordfighting lately. Maybe because one of his children is taller, faster, and ALMOST stronger. ALMOST. So he pretty much declared himself BBD, or, Big Bad Dad. Cuz, he's all three, really. Me and the kids call him Grumpy McGrumperson. His buddies call him The Waffler. You'll soon learn why.<br />
<br />
Me? I'm pretty much just plain Red. When I'm not being "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!"<br />
<br />
Life as Team Fallon......to be continued.<br />
<br />
<br />
~<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-19972352559049572682014-08-24T03:47:00.000-04:002016-06-05T16:47:13.283-04:00AUGUST: LAKE COUNTYI've been remiss in posting since THE CANCER. A lot A LOT a lot has happened. I promise to bring y'all up to speed. Just read....<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Wow. Trying to chill after a 24 hour marathon. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1).BBD returned after a week of building House of Waffle and asked me to </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Lunch date at Burgercraft. (GO TO THERE, my friends. Their fries are worth a drive from Titusville to Clermont.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2). Agonizing Budgetary Meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Ugh.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">3). 5 super awesome and beautiful Tween and Teen young ladies with long, long legs and long, long, long, flowing hair descended upon our domicile to run their daily dose of 5 miles in 117 degree heat index (aka AUGUST: LAKE COUNTY) in the cross country terrain that is the woods behind us and the lake in front. LOVE THOSE GIRLS!!!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">4). Bumpy readjustment to Big Bad Dad being home and uber disappointment that we couldn't "watch" our boy pitch last night but could only wait for the box scores to refresh every 90 seconds. Whew! Shouldn't have doubted #61yankee. #shanegreenegrewupinmydriveway</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">4). Pizza for breakfast, BBD played in the garage with Janet's innards all day while all my awesome housecleaning was leveled by kids and cats and dog and cats and kids. #soundslikelifetome</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">5). 4 hour solo attack on 3 grocery stores in an attempt to meet our new food budget. Unsuccessful - I went over by $7.36. I need to be sent back to TCCO Cost Camp Meridith Simeone!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">6). The Tween has another suitor besides The Tweenaged DREAMY! An overly friendly #whereshoppingisapleasure employee...LOVES my 12 year old daughter. I thought he was 15 (dating is out of the question, young man)...but, no. CREEPY MCCREEPERSON is NINETEEN!!! (Dear God, thank you soooooo much for her beauty, but even more so for her SPEED!). Run Reilly, Runnnnnn!!!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">7). The tree frog that has been squawking at 730 pm every night from some unidentifiable location inside our home jumped and squawked out of my "green" grocery bags onto another customer! SCREAMY, and her friend SCREAMIER, freaked out, I thought, justifiably, from a tree frog jumping on them at Aldi. Oh no, never that simple. They had to contain him and make sure he was okay and give him some water and put him outside in the grass, and they were deeply offended by my insensitivity to....ANIMALS. Oh buoy. Enjoy the REPTILE, laydeeeze. So glad that croaker is gone!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">8). Got home, kids emptied my over budget groceries, BBD making supper, and I....jumped into the pool....with...all my clothes ON! The pool water was 95 degrees. Why waste a shower? Jake came careening from inside to ask me if I was "drunk or....on somethin'?" No and no. Recurring theme and foreshadowing here - LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">9). Aahhhhh. Most excited when BBD proposed, "Wanna go on a nighttime boat ride?" Heck ya! Woohoo! Some of my most favoritest of redneck peeps - eight boats wide, having an amazing time, singing my favorite songs, two kids safe at home, close enough I could swim home if need be, but no, I wouldn't need to...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">40 minutes later.....</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">THUD</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Cell phones start blowing up.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Emergency disembarkation.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">10). Run Reilly Run is vomiting, has a severe headache above and behind her left eye, you know, the head and the eye from the Ginormous Skull Fracture Episode of 2010? Wait, what? You "bumped" heads with Porter at PE on THURSDAY as you both went for a soccer header? Wait, what? You don't remember what happened after that? Wait, what? And 20 minutes later you commenced a 5k atop the highest hill in Clermont in LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST????? What was yesterday? You don't remember? Reilly, how many eyes do I have? "Three?" Correct. I just sprouted a third eyeball.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">BLESSEDLY.......</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our neighbors are an RN and a Paramedic. They came over in their Jammies. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My hard headed and soft brained daughter will live to see another day.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Mild concussion? Probably.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Headache at the old injury site? Expected.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Running 10 miles in two days after a "double" soccer header? Stupid.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Running tomorrow? Um, No.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Dehydrated? LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's 3:30 A.M. and I am still going. Waking DOUBLEHEADER up every hour or so just to be safe.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Heather Fallon's Humira treatments are.....WORKING. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Without them - my 24 hours would have ended at Burgercraft.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">God is good. All the time.</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-62902549288002300122013-12-10T12:33:00.004-05:002013-12-10T12:33:44.992-05:00Kiickin' Cancer's BUTT<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><iframe frameborder="0" height="427" src="http://www.youcaring.com/fundraiser-widget.aspx?frid=115429" width="335"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-30842326270985167572013-11-03T08:14:00.001-05:002016-06-05T17:38:58.492-04:00Hurdles<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yesterday's Cross Country meet was the Florida State Championships for Middle Schoolers, grades 6-8. There were HUNDREDS of kids in each race. ALL of Reilly's teammates did fantastic...one girl placed 12th in State, and one boy placed 8th! But the whole team is headed to Athens, Georgia for NATIONALS (!) on December 5-6. When we made the family decision in January for Reilly to try to get accepted to Real Life Christian Academy and forego public middle school, we had no idea where the journey would take us. Reilly had to jump over a bunch of really high hurdles to meet their requirements. And all four of us had to not just physically and emotionally commit to this new way of life, but the financial engagement was more than a commitment, it was going to be a burden. Explaining the new outflow of funds to Jake was a pretty hard sell. But as Reilly cleared hurdle after hurdle, as the finish line towards enrollment was in sight, no member of Team Fallon ever looked back.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It is now November. Reilly just finished her first quarter as a "Raptor". And what a first quarter it has been. Academically, she has conquered the more challenging curriculum and overcome the higher grading scale, earning a 3.83 on her first report card. I had conferences with all of her teachers last week, and ALL five of them could not have sung higher praises. Every teacher told me that they could not find one single area for improvement. In fact one of them told me, "She's my favorite student of all the classes. I know I shouldn't say that, but I can't lie. Her AVERAGE is 100! I absolutely LOVE her!" When I suggested that perhaps Reilly wasn't being challenged enough, and that maybe we should consider giving her additional or more difficult assignments (even though I see her putting in several hours of homework every night including weekends), the teacher actually SCOLDED me, saying, "Mrs. Fallon! Did you hear what I said? She AVERAGES 100! Which means she is PERFECT! We don't need to do anything more, she is meeting AND exceeding all benchmarks!" When I pushed the issue a bit by again remarking that extra work should be a consideration, I was scolded yet again by the teacher who said, "Mrs. Fallon! Do you have any idea how HARD my tests are?" Sheepishly I replied, " Ummmm.....no?" Then came the tongue lashing. "They are VERY difficult. Reilly has the highest grade of all my classes. It is rare for any teacher to see a student perform with ZERO mistakes, but she is doing it, and I am not about to mess with what I view to be PERFECTION." I gave up. After all, the teachers are the professionals, I'm just a Mom. The teacher told me to go home and ask Reilly how hard the tests were. So when I got home, I asked Reilly if the tests in this particular subject were indeed as hard as her teacher indicated, Reilly sighed and told me, "Yeah Mom, they're pretty hard." Okay. Teacher 1 - Mom 0.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And now, Team Fallon's biggest hurdle is yet to come.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Billy Fallon was diagnosed with leukemia on November 1, 2013. As of now, that is all we know. We know we are in for some high, high hurdles. But we are locked, loaded and ready. And inspired by the miraculous survival of four of our best friends from a plane crash a week ago. Bring it on, cancer. Team Fallon is ready for battle once again.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-5750552877510601192013-10-30T17:06:00.000-04:002016-06-05T17:09:09.740-04:00Gratitude<span style="font-size: large;">~</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As I reflect on the events of the past three days, the devastating plane crash involving four of my dearest friends, I've sadly realized that the last words I said to one of them were pretty nasty snark. College football related snark, but unGodly snark nonetheless. My friend is still alive, but the thought that those may have been the last words he ever heard from me have hit me pretty hard. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And then I think of the other three surviving friends.
In the 13+ years since I married into this "family of friends", I'm painfully reminded of my own self-absorbed difficult entry into their fold. I couldn't understand the dynamics of their MONSTROUS "posse". But God being Awesome God, he lit the path for them to crash down my miles high walls, and break through my choking chains of self protection. But once they saw me stripped naked and fighting for my life in a hospital bed, for the very first of many times, well they had me. They had me at, "Hello". They had me at HELLO!
Soon, Rebecca would become my matron of honor at my upcoming wedding. And soon, Scott would be my husband's groomsman. Their 3 year old, my ring bearer. Several years later, Rob and Jodi joined in Holy Matrimony. Our three families veered from here to there and back to here as we busied</span> <span style="font-size: large;">ourselves with investing in our marriages and raising our children. Some of us stopped working to stay home with their kids while others went back to work as their kids got older.
Things weren't always peachy perfect. And most, if not all of the time, I was at the root and the heart of those issues, disputes, knockdown drag outs. I didn't know how to be a part of their Posse. My childhood was closed off to outsiders. i didn't know how to be a friend or have a friend. i didn't know how to fight, make-up, or share. My husband did his very best to encourage me that the Posse had no rules, that I just had to "be".
I know that there whispers about Buddy Bill's Crazy Wife, and those whispers were 100% on point. Oh, I know I'm a whole barrel o'crazy monkeys, for sure. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But after disaster started to strike in our lives, I learned that I needed to break my own chains and slowly I began to engage. You name the catastrophe, and we lived it: heart attack, deaths of friends and family, surgery upon surgery upon surgery, failed business, scary, high risk pregnancies, rampant unemployment, freak near-fatal accidents, bankruptcy....and through it all, the Posse was there. ALWAYS.
And the more that I reflect, the more that I realize how ridiculously obtuse I had been for far too long. Because this week, as I help to coordinate meal deliveries to the two families upon their return home, send a recliner to those with broken backs, loan my large and comfortable SUV for the purpose of bringing the wounded home, plan to be a daily home healthcare aide for Rebecca whilst she convalesces.....I now know that these aren't just Billy's friends who came with the marriage, like it or not. I can now affirm, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Rob, Scott, Rebecca, and Jodi Boyatt are now just as much my friends as they are my husband's.
I deeply regret that it took an accident of this magnitude, a near fatal tragedy of gargantuan proportions, for me to see the light, the truth, and the way. These are GOOD people. There is nothing that any of them wouldn't do for ANYONE, let alone me, that stubborn, obstinate wife of Buddy Bill. I love you Rob, Jodi, Scott, Rebecca, and all of your children. Any and all of you are welcome at my home anytime. I am deeply sorry that it took 13 years and a calamity for me to say those words to you. Oh, and one more thing.....thanks for letting me into your Posse. I can't imagine Team Fallon without Boyatts in our lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">~</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-39861216248687305802013-03-24T05:42:00.001-04:002013-03-24T05:42:54.146-04:00Seasons~<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
"There is a time for everything, and a season for activity under the heavens." - Ecclesiastes 3:1<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
For every time there is a season.<br />
<br />
I know all about seasons.<br />
<br />
If you've followed the telling of my family's journey, then you know that we've run the gamut of 'seasons'.<br />
<br />
Weakness.<br />
Strength.<br />
Death.<br />
Grief.<br />
Joy.<br />
Financial despair.<br />
Unemployment.<br />
Recovery.<br />
<br />
We spent four years in what I refer to as the 'desert'. We resided in a very dry, barren place for a very long time. No work existed for my husband. My illness was raging. People died. We nearly lost our home. Our marriage was set to a pattern of test...re-test....test....re-test. Yet as difficult as the period was, so many lessons were gleaned from our time in the desert.<br />
<br />
But which lesson was most important? <br />
<br />
That ya gotta have faith?<br />
<br />
That love conquers all?<br />
<br />
That His love never fails?<br />
<br />
That to everything there is a season?<br />
<br />
I dunno which one was 'most' important. They were all important, and God knew that our time in the desert was temporary, yet necessary. And the same God who delivered Moses and His people out of slavery, so He delivered THIS family out of the desert.<br />
<br />
We are now harvesting. Barren and arid no more, we are reaping.<br />
<br />
YES!<br />
<br />
My husband is thriving, because he is WORKING!<br />
<br />
Our home is SAFE.<br />
<br />
Though ailing, I am still HERE.<br />
<br />
Reilly and Jake, are....well....Reilly and Jake! Bringing joy and love to all those who know them.<br />
<br />
Very recently, I've gleefully watched my daughter take a turn toward Jesus! Woohoo! Heckfire that's a harvest like no other!<br />
<br />
And my awesome husband has become a man of God in ways I never thought possible. Score!<br />
<br />
In the past six months, our season has changed.<br />
<br />
But today, I realized that it's possible to be 'in' more than one season at a time.<br />
<br />
Not just figuratively but literally.<br />
<br />
Lemme explain.<br />
<br />
I live in Florida. Recently, we were joyfully blessed with an extended visit from my mother in law. Grandma was excited to be here. And she really enjoyed the weather. Especially since the Great White North has been unusually White this year. Grandma LOVES to be outside. Every day, she would go outside and sweep the dead oak leaves from the driveway.<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
It's spring, right?<br />
<br />
Yep!<br />
<br />
Um, why are there dead leaves in your driveway, Rojo?<br />
<br />
BECAUSE.....in Florida......we have fall in....the....SPRING!<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
Yep.<br />
<br />
Even though my centuries old Live Oak trees continue to shred their MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of dead leaves, my car is covered with pollen.<br />
<br />
Strawberries are in season.<br />
<br />
Oranges are blossoming.<br />
<br />
The Corn Festival approaches.<br />
<br />
Yet the shedding of dead foilage continues.<br />
<br />
So, yeah, we are in two 'real' seasons at once, as I explained to Grandma. It's unusual, sure. <br />
<br />
And now I'm finding myself in more than one figurative season.<br />
<br />
Strength and Weakness.<br />
<br />
Yeah, this is a recurring theme for me, but we've got a new twist, so hang with me, k?<br />
<br />
I've been amped lately. Fighting the good fight. Having discovered what I believe to be my true purpose, I took the ball and ran with it. I've gotten plugged in at church, HELPING. I've been spending more time at my children's school, HELPING. I finally (!) accepted, after five long years, that I'm not meant to be a provider in this family, but a HELPMATE. God knew that I would not choose to stop working for the benefit of my family, so He made it happen, whether I liked it or not. Well, I did NOT like it, Sam I Am. AT ALL. Yet.....and it has taken me far too long to see this, to realize it, to accept it and to respect it, because I am...shockingly....stubborn as a mule, BUT...I now know that my husband's life, my children's life, and ultimately MY life are all better because I no longer work. I wish that my broken body would allow me to do more HELPING, but alas, as I conveyed to someone trying in vain to push me to do more, I do what I can. And I'm doing more than 'enough'. I believe that God is satisfied with me there.<br />
<br />
Because...........<br />
<br />
Of the weakness. I'm suffering physically. Gosh I don't like to. And I realllllllly don't like talking about it. Because it is chronic, and because it sucks, and because it will not go away. I've got some big hurdles to leap soon. And I don't want to jump.<br />
<br />
But worse than me and my own corner on agony, someone else is suffering.<br />
<br />
Captain Jake Sparrow.<br />
<br />
Ouch. I know. It hurts me too. More than you can know.<br />
<br />
My little pirate can be the Kryptonite to my Superman, believe me.<br />
<br />
Yet he also melts my heart like no other.<br />
<br />
A wise man once told me, "Boys love their Mamas". Wow. No truer words have ever been said. <br />
<br />
Jake ADORES me. The feeling is, of course, mutual.<br />
<br />
And right now, I ACHE for him.<br />
<br />
The Sparrow is sick. I'm not going to aggrandize this. He isn't going to die. He doesn't have cancer and no, I'm not starting a website or Facebook page for people to check in daily. Yes, he is ill. Yes, it is serious. Yes, of course he needs prayer. His illness has a name, and it has a treatment, and it has a cause. We have isolated two of those three. It's Eosnophilic Esophagitis, and the treatment is dietary changes with medicine. But we are struggling to determine what food or foods are affecting him. He has stopped growing. He has been classified as "failure to thrive". You darn sure wouldn't know it if you spend any time with him, as he probably burns eighty THOUSAND calories a day, but 'tis true. <br />
<br />
But he is suffering. This I know to be true. And while I am with him through this, every single step of the way, I am suffering right along with him. It hurts to watch someone you love suffer. I can't say this for certain, but I really think it's worse for a parent to experience their child's anguish. It just plain SUCKS.<br />
<br />
In time, Jake will be okay. We don't know when, but we're told that he will. I'm counting on the Big Man Upstairs to make it so. Cuz I gotta have faith. I got nothing else on this one. Brand new territory here.<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
We are reaping as we sow.<br />
<br />
Two Swords and Reilly the Red are at the top of their respective ladders, picking the fruit.<br />
<br />
Me and Sparrow are in the trenches, digging and disseminating.<br />
<br />
To everything there is a season.<br />
<br />
And God is surely with us, for He is most certainly NOT against us.<br />
<br />
We are united as a family, and we are pointing to Him. He'll bring us through.<br />
<br />
Cuz that's what He does.<br />
<br />
He always has.<br />
<br />
~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-69300909296989821702013-03-08T02:34:00.000-05:002013-03-08T02:34:11.719-05:00And, He...Walks with me and He Talks with me...~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
It's 113am.<br />
<br />
If you have insomnia, you might as well do something productive other than just lay there, agitated to no end by spousal snoring or the bothersome sound of the pool pump which suddenly sounds frighteningly expensive.<br />
<br />
And, if you have a gift, USE it.<br />
<br />
That's what He just told me, anyhow.<br />
<br />
So I traipsed my sleep-deprived self into the living room to lay it all bare once again.<br />
<br />
My soul, that is.<br />
<br />
I had an interesting day today.<br />
<br />
I spent the better part of it in primitive mother mode.<br />
<br />
Protecting and defending the rights and needs of one of my young pirates. It doesn't require a differential equation, or even fifth grade math to deduce as to which pirate this most likely was...<br />
<br />
Irrelevant really.<br />
<br />
The bigger story is Abraham.<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
I know.<br />
<br />
I write in concentric circles most of the time.<br />
<br />
But then again, it's in the wee hours of the morning and I'm really tired but my racing mind and my aching, broken, sick body will not allow me respite.<br />
<br />
Back to my primitive mothering moment and my "aha!' Abraham moment....<br />
<br />
For the past five months, I have really gotten INTO The Bible.<br />
<br />
IN...to....The Bible.<br />
<br />
Not just flipping from here to there.<br />
<br />
Not looking up "Suffering" or "Grieving" or "Weakness" in an online Concordance, and then jumping off the proverbial (!) diving board into wherever the passage takes me.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
I've been PLUNGING into the Bible.<br />
<br />
It all started with James.<br />
<br />
The Book of James, not my friend James. Although the Book of James certainly has become near and dear to my heart after I plundered through it.<br />
<br />
Our new church called the journey through James: "Faith on Fire". Boy, they weren't kidding! As we trekked through James, my family's faith caught fire as if from the burning bush. Whoa. It was a crazy, crazy time, those six - eight weeks were. We got closer to each other, we got nearer to God, we gained ground in our lives, we lost people FROM our lives.... Yeah. Crazy stuff. Ultimately all good, and as always, all God.<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
After James, I started to dive deeper.<br />
<br />
Then...<br />
<br />
Our church embarked on the 31 week series entitled "The Story". It's a book, which encapsulates about 40% of the Bible and tells "the story" of God's word in a novel-like, historical fashion.<br />
<br />
MY kind of book.<br />
<br />
I love me some reality based fiction, or historical thrillers.<br />
<br />
Well heckfire, "The Story" has it all.<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
I heard the first sermon, bought the book and went home and read the first chapter.<br />
<br />
THUD.<br />
<br />
That was the sound of the pounding in my head.<br />
<br />
I didn't like the book.<br />
<br />
Blasphemy!<br />
<br />
Oops.<br />
<br />
I mean....I didn't particularly care for the way in which the book was framing the Bible.<br />
<br />
I got lost.<br />
<br />
In Week One.<br />
<br />
In Genesis.<br />
<br />
Ugh.<br />
<br />
The part of the Bible I've always struggled with....The Old Testament.<br />
<br />
But don't a whole bunch of us sometimes struggle with parts of the Word? Not just figuratively by literally?<br />
<br />
Heckfire, I struggle every single minute of every single day. From the moment my feet hit the floor (and a whole bunch of days I don't even make it out of bed) I have already screwed up, someway, somehow. Admittedly and ashamedly. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, but....didn't.<br />
<br />
That's what I do. <br />
<br />
It's called...wait for it....<br />
<br />
S I N<br />
<br />
Yep.<br />
<br />
All day long, all the time.<br />
<br />
But I digress.<br />
<br />
Back to "The Story".<br />
<br />
I trudged through the first two chapters, aka "weeks" in the study.<br />
<br />
I casually mentioned to Two Swords, "I don't like the way they have written this.....it's just as hard for me to wrap my head around as the 'regular' Bible is.....I had high hopes that this would help me with studying the Bible more."<br />
<br />
And then a funny thing happened on the way to the movies.....<br />
<br />
Sorta.<br />
<br />
We saw a trailer for "The Bible", a miniseries about, well, THE BIBLE!, produced by the husband and wife team of Mark Burnett (of Survivor fame) and Roma Downey (of awesome angelic Irish actress fame).<br />
<br />
Me and Two Swords set our mental clocks and the DVR, just in case we forgot.<br />
<br />
We didn't forget.<br />
<br />
God wouldn't let us!<br />
<br />
Last Sunday, we watched the first two hour segment of "The Bible" on the History Channel. And those two hours got me almost caught up in "The Story".<br />
<br />
But a funny thing happened on the way to the story.....<br />
<br />
Abraham happened.<br />
<br />
Again, admittedly, and ashamedly, I'm not an Abraham addict. Or scholar. I never really 'got' him.<br />
<br />
But WHOA, a funny thing happened on the way to the sacrifice.<br />
<br />
Firstly, I was pretty riveted to the screen as the 'story' unfolded. Being the non-scholar of Bible lore that I am, I was enjoying the show as I was learning the parts of the Bible which were previously 'hard' for me for one reason or another.<br />
<br />
But then.....<br />
<br />
Abraham took his son Isaac for a walk. Or so thought Isaac.<br />
<br />
I knew this story. I've known this story for a very long time. <br />
<br />
And I have NEVER LIKED THIS STORY! AT ALL!<br />
<br />
In fact, during commercials before the airing, I mentioned to my husband, "I'm gonna have a real hard time with the sacrificing of Isaac scene, I'll tell you that right now."<br />
<br />
To wit my husband replied, "But you KNOW how it ends!"<br />
<br />
"Yeah", I replied. "But I still don't like it."<br />
<br />
"Weirdo" he correctly deduced as he shook his head from side to side.<br />
<br />
Back to Abraham....<br />
<br />
So, God instructs Abraham to trust Him. And Abraham is severely tested by God. God tells Abraham to bind up Isaac, and to sacrifice the life of his SON (!) to prove to God that Abraham truly trusts and loves God.<br />
<br />
I did NOT want to watch this!<br />
<br />
But I did.<br />
<br />
But a funny thing happened....<br />
<br />
For the first time in the gazillion times I've visited this particularly unsettling story, I had one of my 'epiphanies'.<br />
<br />
You see, I'm a doubter by nature, a psychologist by degree, a Christian by life, a mother by design.<br />
<br />
I've always doubted that a loving God WOULD ask a parent, a father, a mother....to kill their only child to please God.<br />
<br />
And the psychology student in me recalls psychos in real life, like Andrea Yates, who claimed that God told her to drown her five children in the bathtub, one by one, even chasing some of the older ones through the house until the deed was finally done.<br />
<br />
The Christian in me says, "Well, maybe God WAS speaking to Andrea Yates, just like He spoke to Abraham, and maybe only God will know if Andrea Yates is mentally ill or if she was being tested as well."<br />
<br />
But then the mother in me had the final say.<br />
<br />
NO WAY.<br />
<br />
Not, no way that God had a chat with Andrea Yates beforehand.<br />
<br />
Not that.<br />
<br />
NO WAY.<br />
<br />
There is NO WAY that I, yours truly, could ever, WOULD ever, purposely bring harm and certain death to my child.<br />
<br />
I COULD NOT DO IT.<br />
<br />
But....<br />
<br />
How does that translate to my opinion of Abraham?<br />
<br />
He's a better man than I'll ever be.<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
WHAT?<br />
<br />
Yep.<br />
<br />
I finally got it.<br />
<br />
I finally understood Abraham.<br />
<br />
I finally understood that while I KNOW God, and I HEAR God, and I SEE the works of God, and I DO what God wants me to do 99% of the time that I'm able to discern that it really is HIM who speaks to me from within.......<br />
<br />
well....<br />
<br />
I finally understood that there is no way I would follow an instruction from God to kill my own child to prove my loyalty and love and trust.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
I can say, beyond a reasonable doubt....no, I can say with the greatest degree of absolute certainty.....I would NEVER hurt my own child, even if God presented Himself in such a way that I knew with the greatest degree of certainty that He was in fact, God, and not a bunch of jumbled voices in the crazy train that is my head sometimes.<br />
<br />
So...<br />
<br />
Abraham.<br />
<br />
Dude.<br />
<br />
I GET you now!<br />
<br />
I UNDERSTAND, in a way that I did not before, in a way that perhaps I was incapable of grasping at a different time in my life....<br />
<br />
That even though I can't FATHOM killing my own flesh and blood to please God, I can barely, just barely, begin to understand the personal hell that Abraham endured while wrestling with his decision, while preparing his precious son for slaughter, all the while, believing, hoping, praying....that God would make it all better.<br />
<br />
And indeed, God did.<br />
<br />
Isaac lived. And so did Abraham. And God's people were blessed for ages upon ages because of Abraham's testament of faith.<br />
<br />
Faith on FIRE.<br />
<br />
I trust God.<br />
<br />
I know God.<br />
<br />
I love God.<br />
<br />
But not like Abraham did.<br />
<br />
Admittedly and ashamedly, I love my children more than I love my God.<br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
I just said that OUT LOUD, and typed it for ALL THE WORLD to see.<br />
<br />
My deepest, darkest, desolate secret.<br />
<br />
God walks with me.<br />
<br />
God talks with me.<br />
<br />
But not like He did with Abraham.<br />
<br />
But now?<br />
<br />
He's talking to me THROUGH Abraham.<br />
<br />
A dude in the Bible who I never really fully grasped before this week.<br />
<br />
A greater, better, braver dude of God than I could ever aspire to be.<br />
<br />
A funny thing happened on the way to the New Testatment....<br />
<br />
I'm learning a whole bunch more about God.<br />
<br />
And even more powerful than that...<br />
<br />
I'm learning how much I'm lacking in the "Trusting God" department.<br />
<br />
Just when I thought my Faith was on FIRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!<br />
<br />
God said.....HA!<br />
<br />
Blessedly, for me, there's more.<br />
<br />
So....<br />
<br />
much.....<br />
<br />
more...............<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-29337227332849161902013-02-17T17:26:00.000-05:002016-06-05T17:34:05.343-04:00The MAN~<br />
<br />
My husband is a gear head.<br />
<br />
He's all about cars.<br />
<br />
ALL.<br />
<br />
ABOUT.<br />
<br />
CARS.<br />
<br />
Like, if he had to choose between his Wife and his Jeep, well......yeah I'm pretty sure I know how that would go down.<br />
<br />
And if he had to choose between his Jeep and college football? I think he might ask to be cut in half. And I'm totally serious. When he was <strike>trolling</strike> courting me back in the day, he took me to my very first NASCAR race. He told me which driver I was going to follow (Dale Earnhardt, Jr.) and why (because he was a Dale Sr. fan, because Junior was a Rookie, and "I" was "his" Rookie, and then it would be easier for him to remember when AND I QUOTE "each of you came into the picture", and because it was the Budweiser car, and well, because he said so).<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
I raised an eyebrow, but went along for the ride. I had always been a sports fan, but I had never gotten into NASCAR before. I didn't understand how it was a 'sport' and, well, it was entirely TOO R-E-D-N-E-C-K for my hifalutin, sophisticated, educated, big word using, correct grammar using itself. I was quickly educated about restrictor plates, bump drafting, free air, Boogity Boogity Boogity....<br />
<br />
So my first NASCAR race was February 18, 2001. It was the Daytona 500. Some of you may know where this is going....<br />
<br />
Words can't do justice to the emotions I felt (and 100,000+ other people who were THERE) on that day. Billy had been a Sr. fan from the very beginning. To say he was his idol is an understatement. On that fateful day, Billy listened to Sr.'s chatter channel while I was "assigned" Junior's. After Tony Stewart's 20 car "Big One" pile-up, all the driveable cars were required to park it on the track while the wreckage was cleared. I soon learned this is called a "red-flag". We had excellent seats on the front-stretch, directly in front of the exit from Pit Road. Dale Sr. and his son Dale Jr. were parked side by side at the very front of the pack. Not much was happening while the tow trucks and ambulances did their jobs. I had my scanner headphones on. I will never forget, as long as I live, what I heard during that red-flag. Father and son were talking to each other.<br />
<br />
Dale Earnhardt, Sr. said, "You're doing a real good job out here today, Dale."<br />
<br />
His son, driving in his first Daytona 500 replied, "You are too....DADDY."<br />
<br />
I immediately took my headphones off to tell Billy what I heard. He said, "Really? That is so cool!"<br />
<br />
As a spectating sport fan, I had never quite experienced a moment like that before. I felt as if I was eavesdropping on a private conversation, a special moment between a father and son. I felt...special. I mean, how much more "involved" could I become as a fan? That was it for me! I really was enjoying the whole experience of that very long day thus far, our drivers were running 1-2, and I heard them cheer each other on towards the end of a long, hard race.<br />
<br />
Before the checkered flag was dropped, I became NASCAR's newest rabid fan.<br />
<br />
After Michael Waltrip crossed the finish line to win his first ever Daytona 500 with Junior a close second, Dale Earnhardt, Sr. was declared dead several hours later.<br />
<br />
Yeah..<br />
<br />
Those words that I heard on that scanner will ring in my ears forever. The way Dale Jr. said, "DADDY" actually sounded like "DIDDY" with his Carolina drawl.<br />
<br />
My newlywed had lost his hero, or as he refers to him, "THE MAN", in a crash that looked so innocent. How could he have died when just an hour earlier there were NO fatalities nor injuries from a 20 car pile-up involving flying cars and fireballs?<br />
<br />
But THE MAN who died? He died doing what he loved. In the presence of his wife and all of his children. Racing his own son to the finish line. Giving it all he could with all he had. Died instantly from his injuries, and did not suffer. Driving a super fast car, the man in black, number 3 for all the world to see, at his favorite and most successful track, the SuperBowl of NASCAR - the Daytona 500, surrounded by over one hundred THOUSAND fans. If there's a way to go, I'm pretty sure that Dale Earnhardt, Sr. would have picked that way if he had a chance.<br />
<br />
I learned something pretty big that week. The death of this one race car driver caused millions upon millions of grown men to sob at the news of his death,calling in sick to work because they couldn't stop crying, glued to the television screen for hours upon hours of clips such as The Pass In The Grass from the 20 plus years of Dale Earnhardt racing. <br />
<br />
He was indeed a legend.<br />
<br />
I wish he and I had met sooner. <br />
<br />
But I'll always remember the conversation on the scanner. Nothing can take that experience away from me. I'm just sad that my husband didn't get to hear it first hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-39813889013962390032013-01-09T16:26:00.003-05:002013-01-09T16:26:24.419-05:00GrowthSo.<br />
<br />
Welcome to 2013.<br />
<br />
Meet my growing pirates.<br />
<br />
They might look familiar to you.<br />
<br />
Maybe not.<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-14616803683615809422012-12-18T15:16:00.000-05:002012-12-18T15:51:18.427-05:00Signs, Signs, Everywhere...SIGNS~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
I don't know how y'all's day has gone so far, but lemme tell you about mine.<br />
<br />
This morning, like most mornings, I sparred with Red and was outnegotiated by the Captain. Nothing new. The Pirates got on the school bus and went on their merry way. Done with being a stay at home Mom for t-minus 8 hours.<br />
<br />
I took a shower and heard someone banging at the door. At 0800. Seriously? Hmmm. Got out of the shower, and no one was at the door. I opened the door and.....a very large box had arrived bearing Christmas gifts from West Virginia. Wow. Now that was nice. Awesome! Thank you!<br />
<br />
Then I met up with a very dear friend, and prayed and broke bread after not seeing each other for a very long time. And God was the prime topic at breakfast. Said our goodbyes and off we went about our merry ways.<br />
<br />
Went to my super awesome Doctor's office to pick up a form for the <strike>Vampire,</strike> bloodwork. I had to wait a few minutes, so I tinkered with my smart phone, just checking in, seeing what's up on that ever present social media nonsense. Ouch. That hurt. Venom and hatred being spilled everywhere. Someone whom I have never met in real life typed words that actually HURT MY HEART. Wow. That's all I could think. Wow.<br />
<br />
I got my form, and I headed on to my next stop.<br />
<br />
Publix.<br />
<br />
Where Shopping Is A Pleasure.<br />
<br />
Except.....<br />
<br />
God told me to take a RIGHT turn.<br />
<br />
And I did.<br />
<br />
Before I knew it, I was sitting in the administrative offices of the new church we have been attending and will soon become formal members of. I had no idea why I was there. Honestly. No clue. I just felt COMPELLED......CALLED TO ACTION.....<br />
<br />
This church is a Mega church. 3,000 people go there. They have like 8 million pastors or something. 10% of our city goes there. It's big. It's even on TV. It's big, but it's real. And we have wondered, are we going to be just another 'number' here? Or will we BE ABLE to MATTER? <br />
<br />
So I'm sitting on this leather couch talking to a woman I don't even know, and she is trying to assess my NEEDS. I insisted I had none. Really. I mean, we're good. We're awesome. We're on fire for Jesus right now. Big changes in our lives. Big. Radical. But RIGHT.<br />
<br />
So she keeps talking to me, quizzically. I told her it would take me 20 years to share my 42 years of life with her, but hey, I'm writing a book, and you can read about it then. It will be finished soon. But I gave her a few clues. Been here, done this. Been there, done that. Have this, don't have that. God said this, God told me that.<br />
<br />
She asks me if I'm interested in being a prayer helper at the end of each service, offering prayers to people in need.<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
I knew that wasn't it.<br />
<br />
And I told her so.<br />
<br />
Nope. That's not what God wants me to do.<br />
<br />
She pondered that perhaps it wasn't yet time for me to act. Perhaps I was still in a season of listening.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
I'm here, Lady. I don't know why, but there's like a whole bunch of people in this building and we gotta get it figured out RIGHT NOW. Because.....in my 'old' church....well, I used to be able to hit "Pastor" on speed dial and oh, he knew who I was, what I needed, what I was offering, whatever. And I've had more than one Pastor. And they are STILL on my speed dial, thank you very much. As are their wives. But I digress.<br />
<br />
I needed to know, that even though we are committing to a church of gargantuan proportions, that we would MATTER. But I didn't mean, like, on the receiving end.<br />
<br />
I said to her, "I don't think I'm here for ME. I think I'm here TO SHARE."<br />
<br />
Listen, I know that probably 100% of you think I'm on the crazy train most, if not ALL of the time, but GOD SPEAKS TO ME. I have shared this before, and I am telling you right now, HE SPEAKS TO ME. I hear Him. I see Him. I feel Him. Through visions. Through dreams. Through goosebumps. Through the discernment of good or evil. I just KNOW. Ask Two Swords. He can tell you. Or my former pastors. They can tell you. Or some of my friends. They can tell you.<br />
<br />
So I'm trying to tell this stranger, who is a perfectly fine, polite, nice, caring woman, "Listen Lady, I'm sure that like eleventy people an hour come in here and tell you that God speaks to them and they need to talk to somebody, but no, I don't need any money, and no, I don't need a frozen turkey but thank you so much for offering, and no, I'm not delusional, but I am SERIOUS."<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
She starts quoting Jeremiah.<br />
<br />
And I listen. Admittedly, I am not familiar with Jeremiah. But I will be soon. Trust me. As soon as I finish up with the business of James, I'm headed for Jeremiah.<br />
<br />
She asks me if I looked at the life groups on line.<br />
<br />
I told her that I had, but nothing really popped out at me.<br />
<br />
And then she asked me...."What about our Real FREEDOM group?"<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
I have no idea what she is talking about.<br />
<br />
But God most certainly did.<br />
<br />
I told her I didn't see it on the group list.<br />
<br />
She said, "That's because it's under SUPPORT."<br />
<br />
I said, "But I wasn't NEEDING support, so I didn't GO THERE."<br />
<br />
And she puts her hand on my head as if I'm an imp and says, "You are so silly! You are meant to GIVE the SUPPORT!"<br />
<br />
And it clicked.<br />
<br />
Yep.<br />
<br />
That's exactly where I am supposed to be.<br />
<br />
Grief.<br />
Divorce.<br />
Addiction.<br />
Healthy Relationships.<br />
Damaged Relationships.<br />
Suicide.<br />
<br />
And 5 or 6 others.<br />
<br />
They meet all at one time, have praise and worship for 15 minutes, then break into their respective groups.<br />
<br />
I'm meant to be there to....COUNSEL. To....SUPPORT. To....EMPATHIZE. To....GUIDE.<br />
<br />
All the things I am really, really, really, REALLY good at.<br />
<br />
Okay Lady, so...I can't make this commitment right now, because my husband is leaving for South Carolina for two months and I'm about to become a single mom four days a week and then I will have to drive my kids six hours each way every weekend........<br />
<br />
"No."<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
"The group meets on Tuesday nights."<br />
<br />
Whoa.<br />
<br />
TODAY IS TUESDAY.<br />
<br />
Goosebumps.<br />
<br />
Got it, God. I understand. I know why you brought me here. And I know where I am supposed to be at 7pm tonight. Even though it's the finale of The Voice, I can DVR it. Seriously, I can do that.<br />
<br />
I thought that was ALL that God had in store for me for the day.<br />
<br />
PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA<br />
<br />
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA<br />
<br />
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTT<br />
<br />
Anyhoo.<br />
<br />
Off I go to my original destination.<br />
<br />
Publix.<br />
<br />
Where Shopping Is a Pleasure.<br />
<br />
Always.<br />
<br />
Always Publix,<br />
<br />
Always a Pleasure.<br />
<br />
I'm just wandering around, picking up random items. Not the usual way I shop. I usually have a list.<br />
<br />
Not today.<br />
<br />
I wander to the meat market. <br />
<br />
And the Meat Man offers to help, as usual.<br />
<br />
I said, "Yeah, can you tell me what to fix for dinner, because, seriously, UGH, I'm so TIRED of deciding what my family will eat every night."<br />
<br />
And he did. And I was like, "Huh." Okay. Yeah. I'll try that. If the Captain doesn't like it, Off With His Head! He can walk the plank. Don't care.<br />
<br />
Then I'm at the checkout register.<br />
<br />
A man with special needs is my bagger today. He bags my items PERFECTLY. He does not struggle. He takes his time. But I have time. Lots of it. I'm good.<br />
<br />
He finishes, the cashier finishes, and I'm headed out the door.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
God told me to take another RIGHT turn.<br />
<br />
I went to the service desk.<br />
<br />
A young lady asked if she could help me, very pleasantly, I might add.<br />
<br />
I said, "Who do I talk to if I want to say THANK YOU?"<br />
<br />
She said, "Huh?"<br />
<br />
I said, "I want to say Thank You."<br />
<br />
She said, (because I'm certain she's not used to hearing something this radical), "Ummm....for.....what?"<br />
<br />
I said, "For making shopping a PLEASURE."<br />
<br />
She looked at me like the Church Lady did. Like I had a third eyeball.<br />
<br />
She went and got the manager.<br />
<br />
She must have told him I was a nutjob, cuz he looked at me the same way.<br />
<br />
I stuck my RIGHT hand out, and said my name and said, "I want to tell you this because I'm sure you are not hearing it very much, especially this time of year, but you should. I have been shopping at this store, 2-3 times a week since the day it opened ELEVEN years ago, and I have NEVER EVER EVER had a bad experience, from top to bottom. And I want to THANK YOU for making shopping a PLEASURE."<br />
<br />
And the Manager lit up like a Christmas tree, pardon the pun.<br />
<br />
And he needed to hear that today. Don't know why. None of my business. Don't know what fire he was fighting before the Nutjob Lady with the Third Eyeball appeared, but he needed it. And God knew it. That's why He sent me.<br />
<br />
And he was gracious.<br />
<br />
And then I said, "And one more thing. I am disabled. I want to THANK YOU for hiring people who have special needs."<br />
<br />
And he lit up even brighter.<br />
<br />
And he said, "THAT is OUR pleasure."<br />
<br />
And I wished him a Merry Christmas.<br />
<br />
And he stopped me and said, "Do you need help out with your groceries?"<br />
<br />
And I said, "No thank you. Not TODAY."<br />
<br />
And off I went.<br />
<br />
To my next destination.<br />
<br />
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA<br />
<br />
PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA<br />
<br />
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTT<br />
<br />
God told me to put my grocery cart back.<br />
<br />
I had to make another RIGHT turn.<br />
<br />
ASIDE: As a NASCAR fan, and as a whackjob RIGHT wing Republican, this irony is not lost on me, I promise you.<br />
<br />
An older lady was right next to me, putting her cart back.<br />
<br />
She said, "It is sooooo nice to see YOUNG people putting their carts back."<br />
<br />
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA<br />
<br />
Thanks for that, but I'm not so young.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
I said, "You know, my PASTOR once told us that we should always put our carts back. Sometimes I take it all the way into the store, and sometimes I put it in the corral, but, yeah, we always put them back. In fact, my kids actually fight sometimes over who gets to put the cart back."<br />
<br />
And she opined, "If only more people in this world could be like US."<br />
<br />
And I said, "You know what? Perhaps they will. Perhaps they will CHANGE. Perhaps we just need to be examples for them."<br />
<br />
And she said, "I hope you are right."<br />
<br />
And I wished her a MERRY CHRISTMAS. And she returned it.<br />
<br />
And then I headed to my next destination.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
Not another right turn.<br />
<br />
Across the street.<br />
<br />
To the <strike>Vampire</strike> lab to have bloodwork done. <br />
<br />
I saw a cross on the wall at the front desk.<br />
<br />
Hmmm.<br />
<br />
Interesting.<br />
<br />
You don't see THAT everyday.<br />
<br />
Cool.<br />
<br />
Signed in, wrote my check, waited my turn.<br />
<br />
And then the <strike>Blood Sucking Vampire</strike> Phlebotomist called me in.<br />
<br />
And I sat down.<br />
<br />
And I looked to my RIGHT.<br />
<br />
On the wall.<br />
<br />
Whoa.<br />
<br />
I said, "Did YOU do that, or did THEY do that?"<br />
<br />
She said, "Me and the other gal did it."<br />
<br />
I said, "Wow. You don't see THAT everyday."<br />
<br />
She said, "They are everywhere around here. Even at our corporate office."<br />
<br />
Realllllllyyyyyyyyy?<br />
<br />
Yep.<br />
<br />
I asked her if I could take a picture of it.<br />
<br />
She said, "Absolutely. Just about everybody who comes in here does."<br />
<br />
And so I did.<br />
<br />
And here it is.<br />
<br />
Just another sign.<br />
<br />
On just another day.<br />
<br />
He is there. He is here. He is everywhere. You just have to look, listen, and live. I hope and pray that someone who reads this might also be called to action today.<br />
<br />
I most certainly was.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUE-QehnI1z6wY3jFhMtYdh79oXv7iFeLVDaWbqNPHflVVZJyzg08C00-cdEQqgGJ5dx254lSJw4GUqJCeWciqrS3XHwphHkaxvAENnAJpK67YFhlNs2bw7qKxnksrK_INJR2Yt2q_6Y/s1600/miracle12.18.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUE-QehnI1z6wY3jFhMtYdh79oXv7iFeLVDaWbqNPHflVVZJyzg08C00-cdEQqgGJ5dx254lSJw4GUqJCeWciqrS3XHwphHkaxvAENnAJpK67YFhlNs2bw7qKxnksrK_INJR2Yt2q_6Y/s640/miracle12.18.12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-90077706915771169182012-11-15T19:54:00.000-05:002012-11-15T19:54:01.285-05:00I Got.......TOLD~So.<br />
<br />
It's been awhile.<br />
<br />
Sorry bout that.<br />
<br />
No, the pirate ship has not capsized, nor been set ablaze.<br />
<br />
In fact, it's been rather smooth sailing for we buccaneers lately.<br />
<br />
But alas, that's another story for another day.<br />
<br />
Because........<br />
<br />
Today..........<br />
<br />
I......Got.......<br />
<br />
TOLD.<br />
<br />
And since I'm the one who usually does all the telling, I must surrender on those very rare (AHEM) occasions when someone, anyone, tells ME.<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
At the mess hall this evening, Reilly the Red proclaimed that she had finally decided (!) what she was going to be when she grows up.<br />
<br />
The following dialogue will remain among the logs of Fallon Piracy for all eternity:<br />
<br />
Rojo, aka, MOTHER: Really? What?<br />
<br />
Reilly, aka, TEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER: I'm going to be a lawyer.<br />
<br />
Rojo: Oh yeah? What kind of lawyer do you want to be? Prosecutor? Defense Attorney? Child Advocate? Environmental, aka LIBERAL lawyer?<br />
<br />
Reilly: I want to be the kind of lawyer that you said had lots and lots of really pretty, expensive shoes.<br />
<br />
Rojo: That would be any kind of lawyer, especially if you're a chick.<br />
<br />
Reilly: So what kind of lawyer should I be.<br />
<br />
I then gave her a download of how the whole justice system worked, and we went as high as the Supreme Court justices, etc.<br />
<br />
And then Reilly said, "I wanna be a lawyer, cuz, everybody needs a doctor and a lawyer, right Mom?"<br />
<br />
Wow. You have actually BEEN LISTENING TO YOUR PARENTS?<br />
<br />
Reilly: Cuz, well we have doctors and a lawyer, right?<br />
<br />
Rojo: Yes, yes, we do. The BEST as a matter of fact.<br />
<br />
Reilly: Yeah.<br />
<br />
Rojo: Yeah.<br />
<br />
Reilly: Oh, and one more thing we need, is a construction worker.<br />
<br />
Rojo: No, I don't need a construction worker, I married one.<br />
<br />
Reilly: That doesn't count.<br />
<br />
And then I got stupid. I had to go and raise the ante. Dang. Note to self - go back and read The Art of War again. Cuz, I went into battle without any ammo.<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
Rojo: WAIT! I was a construction worker! I WAS!<br />
<br />
Reilly: No, you weren't Mom.<br />
<br />
Rojo: YES! YES! I WAS! For a long time. And I no you probably don't remember it, but I really, really WAS!<br />
<br />
Reilly: No, you weren't Mom.<br />
<br />
Rojo: YES! I even had BOOTS!<br />
<br />
SMART ALECK 10 YEAR OLD with the IQ which is incalculable in Roman Numerals: Nope. You weren't.<br />
<br />
Rojo: I DID! I even had a hard hat! With my NAME on it!<br />
<br />
Reilly: Oh, that's impressive.<br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
She told me, right?<br />
<br />
Oh no.<br />
<br />
I walked away from the battle, already defeated. Muttering under my breath, "ask your dad, he'll tell you what I did. He WILL!"<br />
<br />
I sulked.<br />
<br />
And cowered.<br />
<br />
And retreated to the den, laid on the couch and put folded my hands across my chest, and elicited the "damn" sigh of surrender.<br />
<br />
That's were it ends.<br />
<br />
I wish.<br />
<br />
Ten seconds later, Reilly the Red appears from the corner of the couch and screams into my ear:<br />
<br />
"SO....<br />
<br />
...............DID.............<br />
<br />
...................................YOU..............<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>BE-DAZZLE</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
THAT HARDHAT OF YOURS?"<br />
<br />
I gave her five.<br />
<br />
Like, way to go.<br />
<br />
Good job.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
You're been drinking Tiger blood.<br />
<br />
You're ready for law school.<br />
<br />
I got told.<br />
<br />
And I'm being the better man and letting the world know on her behalf.<br />
<br />
Go get 'em, Girl.<br />
<br />
You GO!<br />
<br />
~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-14716737238616211832012-03-21T19:05:00.000-04:002012-03-21T19:05:23.297-04:00All In The Family~<br />
<br />
Modern-day conversation between Archie and Edith Bunker:<br />
<br />
Edi: Yo, Archie? If I can't see far away, does that mean I'm near-sighted?<br />
<br />
Arch: Yeah.<br />
<br />
Edi: And if I can't see things close up then that means I'm far-sighted?<br />
<br />
Arch: Yeah.<br />
<br />
Edi: Well, then, what if I can't see things near or far?<br />
<br />
Arch (rolling his eyes with severe boredom and bone-weary fatigue after traipsing through a Central Florida theme park and getting soaked to the boxer briefs on a 'you MIGHT get WET' water ride'): <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>BLIND, Edith! BLIND!</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b><br />
</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b><br />
</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b><br />
</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">The more things change, the more they stay they same.....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">~</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-31756803334055156492012-02-13T03:46:00.002-05:002012-11-09T16:34:24.256-05:00Me Bloody Bucket List~<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
We Pirates have discovered the greatest television show in the history of, well...television. It's called "An Idiot Abroad- The Bucket List", and you simply MUST watch it. But only if you put the subtitles on. Cuz you'll be laughing so hard you'll miss more than half the stuff the bloody bloke has to mutter. Just trust me on this one.<br />
<br />
Anyhoo.<br />
<br />
Karl Pilkington, the Idiot in question, hath inspired me to write me own bloody Bucket List. This is my first gander at such an enterprise, and the entries are in no particular order. I've crossed through those I've already accomplished, just so you know I really <strike>do</strike> did have a life once upon a time.<br />
<br />
Here goes nuthin'!<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Greece</li>
<li><strike>The Grand Canyon</strike></li>
<li><strike>Fundamentalist Mormon Utah, aka Colorado City</strike></li>
<li><strike>Visit the desert island of Aruba, get plied with Aruban tequila at Carlos and Charlie's, do some other dastardly deeds a few hours later, then get on a plane and safely return home without meeting Johan van der Sloot. Whew - THAT was a close one!</strike></li>
<li><strike>Find Jesus.</strike></li>
<li>Wear a pair of Louboutins, if just for a day.</li>
<li>Travel in zero gravity</li>
<li>Swim with the dolphins</li>
<li>Alaska</li>
<li>The Motherland, aka, Ireland</li>
<li>A 3-week Mediterranean cruise (with or without children, I'm not all that picky. 'specially since I got me some well-boated, well-traveled pirates).</li>
<li><strike>Marry my Pirate Charming</strike></li>
<li><strike>Hawaii</strike></li>
<li><strike>NYC</strike></li>
<li><strike>NYC again</strike></li>
<li><strike>NYC again with Pirate Charming</strike></li>
<li>NYC again with all three Pirates in tow</li>
<li>Audit a class at an Ivy League school</li>
<li>A golden ticket to Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory, although a vacation to Hershey, Pennsylvania will in fact, suffice.</li>
<li><strike>Travel this great nation of ours, from sea to shining sea, watching the wonders of the world unfold through the beautiful blue eyes of my amazing husband and delicious children.</strike></li>
<li>Become a PUBLISHED author.</li>
<li>Wear those Louboutins on Fox & Friends while sitting on the Curvy Couch with Doocey, Carlson, and Kilmeade.</li>
<li>Be deemed "CURED"</li>
<li>Live to see the day my daughter and/or spawn make their first closing arguments as snappy prosecutorial attorneys, wearing Louboutins or Brunos.</li>
<li>Have a beer with Bruce Willis.</li>
<li>Spend a Sunday afternoon Sabbath with George and Laura.</li>
<li>Have a clean house</li>
<li><strike>Join a rock band </strike>(Hey! I just did this one YESTERDAY! Woohoo!)</li>
<li><strike>The 17 mile drive</strike></li>
<li><strike>The Don Cesar</strike></li>
<li><strike>Watch Cal Ripken, Jr. play in Memorial Stadium AND Camden Yards</strike></li>
<li>Get to see Nolan Ryan pitch (this ain't gonna happen. I missed him by ONE STINKING DAY in the rotation. That bit of poor planning on my part will haunt me til my dying day, I assure you.</li>
<li><strike>Eat raw fish, aka, discover the wonder, awe, and delight of ahi tuna</strike></li>
<li><strike>Laugh every single day of me life.</strike></li>
<li><strike>Pearl Harbor</strike></li>
<li><strike>The Punchbowl</strike></li>
<li><strike>The Gateway Arch</strike></li>
<li><strike>Tubing in the Colorado River</strike></li>
<li><strike>Lobster</strike></li>
<li><strike>Chilean Sea Bass (on someone else's tab, DUH)</strike></li>
<li>The Greenbriar</li>
<li>Whitewater Rafting</li>
<li>Be a Contestant on Jeopardy'</li>
</ol>
<div>
....to be continued.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-56207473607313370432012-02-10T13:29:00.000-05:002012-02-10T13:29:57.792-05:00Vertices<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </div><br />
~<br />
How is it possible that THIS KID......<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0UCjNl57jC0qKNEZwGrPFyOtw2ime-MshD80C8g0Zepe8YECvQbljc4EEBgNWfWRA3KFa8jRD1XkMKif4Sc2h9DibjjA51erL96YWDkfsvVGI6WduSYQc6Q_8EBrLhysRxheCxTxocwM/s1600/DSC05827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0UCjNl57jC0qKNEZwGrPFyOtw2ime-MshD80C8g0Zepe8YECvQbljc4EEBgNWfWRA3KFa8jRD1XkMKif4Sc2h9DibjjA51erL96YWDkfsvVGI6WduSYQc6Q_8EBrLhysRxheCxTxocwM/s640/DSC05827.JPG" width="428" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Yes, indeed...THIS Spawn of mine........<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdRaUwjxZf4qECS7V9RhhcnTiDF5jTyCeNC3XgyLh5iSS1jYGuR1uaIAgR9sTeQ66Fp3K_YrqvzjoSACFUOsYv-UvUjtmBs7TYN4fNA25Phf0H7otWd7e_9z2vJVwt3hXtUxejGyqbDc/s1600/DSC05825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdRaUwjxZf4qECS7V9RhhcnTiDF5jTyCeNC3XgyLh5iSS1jYGuR1uaIAgR9sTeQ66Fp3K_YrqvzjoSACFUOsYv-UvUjtmBs7TYN4fNA25Phf0H7otWd7e_9z2vJVwt3hXtUxejGyqbDc/s640/DSC05825.JPG" width="428" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Can properly spell, pronounce, write, read, and correctly define words such as VERTICES and ESOPHAGUS, while successfully playing hide and seek with himself in the linen closet?<br />
<br />
Anyone?<br />
<br />
Anyone?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KExC71HOmvQhWF_Dr9K_zLzCBKapNT_CzzXhsFbu6Vv5gNUSf0H7f_xBI_j7BEwXlP3SN9hL46_7i49_O3y7seJznuSl87GwlqkFsRe1thzNeILr-vL_6WgoqEq4nbJk6iWML1qkFpU/s1600/DSC05826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KExC71HOmvQhWF_Dr9K_zLzCBKapNT_CzzXhsFbu6Vv5gNUSf0H7f_xBI_j7BEwXlP3SN9hL46_7i49_O3y7seJznuSl87GwlqkFsRe1thzNeILr-vL_6WgoqEq4nbJk6iWML1qkFpU/s640/DSC05826.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-73856340738323528262012-02-10T03:19:00.000-05:002012-02-10T03:19:00.655-05:00No Greater Joy~<br />
<br />
This motley crue of mine, we live, we laugh, we love.<br />
<br />
We suffer from time to time.<br />
<br />
Who doesn't.<br />
<br />
There is no sliding scale of suffering. You don't get extra points for dropping a fire extinguisher on your foot than for birthing a spawn. You either suffer -- or ya don't.<br />
<br />
Right now?<br />
<br />
Today?<br />
<br />
We ain't suffering.<br />
<br />
You might think we should be.<br />
<br />
You might be.<br />
<br />
But we're not.<br />
<br />
We're living and loving and laughing.<br />
<br />
Together.<br />
<br />
And we find no greater joy than in giving, sharing, helping, and serving others.<br />
<br />
No, you might not know that about us pirates, we Team Fallon.<br />
<br />
'tis true though.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-71998061501591661432012-01-26T20:49:00.000-05:002012-01-26T20:49:38.602-05:00Rap Sheet~<br />
<br />
I have been 'spring' cleaning recently and came upon this gem.<br />
<br />
Perpretrator: Captain Jake Sparrow<br />
<br />
Date of Incident: Monday, November 11, 2010<br />
<br />
Itemization of crimes:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol><li>Talking during morning work</li>
<li>Because said perpetrator wasn't listening during morning work, he was escorted to the math table as a punishment then claimed to get all confused with his work of numbers.</li>
<li>Perp didn't finish his morning work because he couldn't stop running his piehole, so his poor, downtrodden teacher allegedly forced him to miss recess so that he could finish his work. In the words of the Perp, "So I missed part of my recess because of my bad behavior."</li>
<li>Perp allegedly busted again for not listening during an outdoor social studies lesson.</li>
<li>During said outdoor social studies lesson, downtrodden teacher allegedly told the students to NOT use the playground equipment during the lesson. Perp ignored the command and went headfirst down the playground slide in the midst of the social studies lesson.</li>
<li>Perp was relegated to serving a timeout on a bench outside very far away from the social studies lesson AND the playground. This resulted in missing most of the social studies lesson.</li>
<li>At naptime, Perp opted to secure a 'different' spot than his usual one, allegedly further angering the downtrodden teacher.</li>
<li>At P.E., Perp chose to hang upside down from the bleachers on which the chorus class was in the midst of practicing.</li>
<li>Still at P.E., Perp somehow grew seven feet and hung from a basketball hoop, warranting yet another timeout for the day, this one him requiring to sit facing a wall, Blair Witch-style.</li>
<li>Because Perp was so 'bad' all day, he was forbidden from participating in freeplay (um...DUH), and was forced to continue serving the Blair Witch timeout so as to ensure that he would have no chance at having an ounce of fun.</li>
<li>After the school day ended, Perp boarded the school bus for the ride home. Allegedly, Perp pulled down his pants and showed a group of boys his underwear because it was camo and, well, "cool".</li>
<li>Upon return to the homestead, Perp drew on the kitchen floor with Sharpie markers.</li>
<li>Perp lied to his parents that his innocent sister drew 'x's' on the kitchen floor with Sharpie markers.</li>
<li>Perp was sent to the tub to wash off the marker stains from his body, and made the choice to enter the bathtub fully clothed.</li>
<li>Later, Perp called his Father a "Smart Mouth". The consequence of this action remains in the 'vault' as a protective custodial order.</li>
<li>As his Mother was reviewing his list of SIXTEEN PLUS crimes for this ONE day, Perp was not listening or paying attention, started goofing off, and fell off the bed.</li>
</ol><div>Sentencing Hearing:</div><div><br />
</div><div><ol><li>Perpetrator pled nolo contendre, at the advice of his pro bono non-licensed attorney, his sister.</li>
<li>Perpetrator was sentenced to "Boredom to Death". </li>
<li>Perpetrator's impassioned plea to the judge(s): "You mean I can't do NUTHIN?" "NUTHIN?" "NO TV?" "NO NUTHIN?"</li>
<li>Judges - You may eat. You may sleep. You may poop and you may pee. But you will not have any fun. Ever. Or until we are done being mad.</li>
</ol><div>Parole Hearing:</div></div><div><ol><li>Judges issued unrestricted parole to the Perpetrator because he made them laugh two days later and they forgot why he was in trouble in the first place. Oh, and because they wanted to go see Megamind and couldn't find a babysitter.</li>
<li><br />
</li>
</ol></div><div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-49131612045570456622012-01-14T11:46:00.000-05:002012-01-14T11:46:44.458-05:00The Spawn~<br />
<br />
So, I know what you're going to say.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsclrtgeqGlGy7lyC2X8T1s5mAIe_skxCIIfzn71iiAt_3MbzmeHKpI6KZxpvJ8ODI0ATz1FmDWDNY3e3Vf40MxGXQ5OFMZP3My46u6PSMdHvP3l4cVWlZCXbdrXC07lC1HYEZQmrqPwE/s1600/Jake+Clever+things+2+say.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsclrtgeqGlGy7lyC2X8T1s5mAIe_skxCIIfzn71iiAt_3MbzmeHKpI6KZxpvJ8ODI0ATz1FmDWDNY3e3Vf40MxGXQ5OFMZP3My46u6PSMdHvP3l4cVWlZCXbdrXC07lC1HYEZQmrqPwE/s640/Jake+Clever+things+2+say.jpg" width="468" /></a></div><br />
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww.<br />
<br />
He is sooooooo gosh darn......C U T E!<br />
<br />
Yeah, that's what I was thinking....<br />
<br />
Until yesterday.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRcR2Tvtlv-8K2MLfpOJVmzkyxDBbvlFtGRLK3gfHhKHnP0eH4cqieCfjBY3L8p7gJ7yIu4098JEQ1MVNVOYt1ataL7b1gsqPxJARG5nGZqEvMQbOa1f9QDH2zaPXQwZ26HeuYL-9Rt0Q/s1600/clever4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRcR2Tvtlv-8K2MLfpOJVmzkyxDBbvlFtGRLK3gfHhKHnP0eH4cqieCfjBY3L8p7gJ7yIu4098JEQ1MVNVOYt1ataL7b1gsqPxJARG5nGZqEvMQbOa1f9QDH2zaPXQwZ26HeuYL-9Rt0Q/s640/clever4.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br />
And no amount of pontifficating was going to change the situation.<br />
<br />
He got in trouble at school.<br />
<br />
BIG trouble.<br />
<br />
And I can't even write about it here, that's the kind of trouble.<br />
<br />
It made me madder than a wet hen.<br />
<br />
Kinda like this pose right here.....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkmAiw73nt8slq0IsYnviFpGqQFm-s_K90NbwkB_-8GQmjVEtMH0gDRLt7zthT7xoYr-ivuC0X9x2QPf4LJcWktAlmDGnjp908lBDajVek_9atCRxTTfWkTv37XQvRnkvRNAscGdPPZg/s1600/clever3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkmAiw73nt8slq0IsYnviFpGqQFm-s_K90NbwkB_-8GQmjVEtMH0gDRLt7zthT7xoYr-ivuC0X9x2QPf4LJcWktAlmDGnjp908lBDajVek_9atCRxTTfWkTv37XQvRnkvRNAscGdPPZg/s640/clever3.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><br />
So, his punishments and consequences were dealt, and he was well prepared to receive them, I gotta give him credit for that.<br />
<br />
But several hours later, he did something so utterly S T U P I D......and L A Z Y......and very difficult for a W O M A N to understand and accept as 'normal'.<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
The Spawn.<br />
<br />
He was watching TV by himself in the den.<br />
<br />
Then he emerged from the den holding a cup.<br />
<br />
Reilly screamed, "Did you P E E in MY Busch Gardens cup?"<br />
<br />
And the Spawn proudly said, "YEP!"<br />
<br />
And then my head spun Linda Blair style and all the profanities I haven't said since January 1st just erupted like explosive molten lava from my volcanic mouth.<br />
<br />
I never dreamed I'd have to ask the Spawn, "What would make you think it is APPROPRIATE to PEE in a CUP while you are watching TV on the NEW couch? What? WHAT? W H A T??????"<br />
<br />
And The Spawn replied, "I didn't want to leave my 'spot' on the couch, cuz I was really comfortable."<br />
<br />
Me and The Spawn had a serious "Come to Jesus" meetin' after that response.<br />
<br />
Ugh.<br />
<br />
By the end of the night, The Spawn truly was, 'out of clever things to say'.<br />
<br />
Dear God, let's keep it that way for about a day or so, okay?<br />
<br />
Thank you.<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
~<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-20730394726050493062011-12-25T04:15:00.002-05:002018-12-25T13:28:10.314-05:00A Christmas MiracleWelcome, friends.<br />
<br />
It's high time that we had a Christmas fireside chat.<br />
<br />
Grab your lattes, your cappuccinos, your warm milk, your hot cocoa, your Monster drink, your Gatorade, your Diet Coke, and your Mountain Dew and settle in with me for a nice winter's chat.<br />
<br />
It is time to tell the miracle of my son.<br />
<br />
Yes, THAT son.<br />
<br />
He was (and still is) most certainly a miracle.<br />
<br />
We have to go back a few years.<br />
<br />
FOURTEEN, effective five days ago. <br />
<br />
Yes, that screams, "Happy Birthday, J A K E!"<br />
<br />
But we have to go back seven years and eight months.<br />
<br />
Correct.<br />
<br />
Eight months.<br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
It was April of 2004.<br />
<br />
Reilly the Red was almost two, and was out of diapers.<br />
<br />
We had been trying to have another baby.<br />
<br />
Remember, my body doesn't typically cooperate with me and what "I" might want, expect, or NEED it to do.<br />
<br />
I had stopped my Remicade treatments for about a year, to safely prepare my body for a pregnancy.<br />
<br />
You see, we didn't know WAY BACK IN 2004 that Remicade was safe for pregger mamas.<br />
<br />
Well, allegedly, they know it N O W!<br />
<br />
Alas, it wasn't happening.<br />
<br />
And I had rolled the dice, and started to get sick-er.<br />
<br />
As I had stopped taking most medicines, save one or two, I was playing with God, but against time.<br />
<br />
I only had <em>so much time</em> until we would have to give up our hope of having a second child, hopefully a boy, before I would have to resume my life-maintaining treatments again.<br />
<br />
Lo and behold, on the first of May, I discovered I was pregnant!<br />
<br />
Woohoo!<br />
<br />
Grandmothers were alerted, bosses were notified, two year old daughter was prepped.<br />
<br />
We started to get ready, and we started to get excited, and well, a second time Mama starts to 'show' a HECK of a lot earlier than a skinny minny first time Mama, so we couldn't hide it very well, even if we wanted to!<br />
<br />
In mid-may, we decided to take Reilly the Red to her first trip to Disney's Magic Kingdom.<br />
<br />
Since we're locals, we used our connections, got in for free, stayed for three rides and the requisite Disney tantrum, and headed home for a nap.<br />
<br />
It was a good day.<br />
<br />
I was feeling really good.<br />
<br />
So good in fact, that my Team(s) of doctors opted NOT to mark my Obstetric file as "HIGH RISK".<br />
<br />
SHOCKING!, I know!<br />
<br />
Anyhoo.<br />
<br />
For Memorial Day, we traversed the state to visit with my parents in the Gulfa Mexico.<br />
<br />
It was a great weekend, as always.<br />
<br />
On our way home, I noticed a few bug bites on my chest.<br />
<br />
No matter.<br />
<br />
The Gulfa Mexico is where mosquitoes go to breed, and where people go to die.<br />
<br />
But by the time we got home, I was feeling really, really......B A D.<br />
<br />
And not 'pregnancy' bad.<br />
<br />
And not 'Crohns' bad.<br />
<br />
Something else 'bad'.<br />
<br />
But a friend of ours was in the hospital, recovering from a near catastrophic accident involving a chain saw, a tree, and a shoulder. We were gladfully obligated to make a quick visit.<br />
<br />
After we left the hospital and headed home, my 'condition', which I had since decided was either West Nile, Avian Flu, the Ebola Virus or the Plague, worsened significantly.<br />
<br />
I had two options.<br />
<br />
Option one - call Dr. House. <br />
<br />
That didn't work out so well for me, well, since HE IS NOT A REAL PERSON! I keep forgetting that one.<br />
<br />
Option two - summon Old Mother Hubbard's Medical Encyclopedia.<br />
<br />
I needed a PHOTO of what my skin was starting to look like before I called my previously NON-HIGH-RISK Obstetrician and caused him to break out in pustules simply from the stress I continued to cause he and his entire practice.<br />
<br />
I knew what I had.<br />
<br />
I had know idea how I got it.<br />
<br />
But Old Mother Hubbard confirmed it.<br />
<br />
FAHRVERGNUGEN.<br />
<br />
I had chicken pox.<br />
<br />
I know.<br />
<br />
Stop right there.<br />
<br />
In answer to your questions -- HEATHER?? HOW THE HECK, I MEAN WHO THE HECK, GETS CHICKEN POX AT THIRTY FOUR AND WHO THE HECK GETS THEM WHEN THEY ARE PREGNANT AND WHY DIDN'T YOU HAVE THEM BEFORE AND DOES REILLY HAVE THEM TOO?<br />
<br />
Well, thank you for asking.<br />
<br />
The obvious answer is quite simply, only Hurricane Rojo gets chicken pox at thirty four and pregnant (remind me, I should call Lifetime for their "I'm Pregnant - And I Have the Chicken Pox" show) and considering the incubation period I most likely got them at Disney, so said Dr. Crop, and when my 'little' brothers got them, well, I was all grownsed up and 'away', and well, Reilly had successfully been inoculated, which gave her pediatrician absolute G L E E.<br />
<br />
Hmmmmm.<br />
<br />
Which was worse?<br />
<br />
- self-diagnosing (correctly, I might add, and yes, I should have been a doctor, RUMSPRINGA.)<br />
<br />
- alerting my OB<br />
<br />
- telling my husband<br />
<br />
DING DING DING!<br />
<br />
Telling the husband is the big winner here.<br />
<br />
Cuz the OB screamed at me to go directly to <strike>jail </strike> the back door of the NINTH floor of the big city hospital, which would be EIGHT floors away from the other preggers.<br />
<br />
So I did.<br />
<br />
By myself.<br />
<br />
All forty miles, thinking I might be staying, well, awhile.<br />
<br />
Once there, he isolated me and gave me a room with a TV and a bed and several anti-viral infusions/injections and we waited.<br />
<br />
Several hours later, he came back and shook his head and said, "You are seven weeks pregnant and you have the chicken pox."<br />
<br />
And I said, "Yep."<br />
<br />
And he continued to lament, "WE HAVE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE YOUR AGE HAVE CHICKEN POX SO EARLY IN THE PREGNANCY"<br />
<br />
Might I add this dude was as close to Dr. House as I could get, AND he was the Director of Obstetrics for the entire HOSPITAL?<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
I was in deep doo-doo.<br />
<br />
He tried his best not to scare me.<br />
<br />
shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa<br />
<br />
The following words will resonate in my mind forever, ".........we cannot even begin to predict the effect this will have on the baby.............what he/she will look like..............if you will go full-term........................if there will be scarring of the baby............."<br />
<br />
I left the hospital, out the back door, the same way I came.<br />
<br />
For the next two weeks, with the frightened support of my employer, I SUFFERED through the chicken pox. <br />
<br />
OMG.<br />
<br />
They say it's worse in grown ups.<br />
<br />
WHATEVER.<br />
<br />
It just plain - - - S U C K E D.<br />
<br />
Miraculously, I don't have a single pock-mark or scar anywhere on my body. I have no idea how that happened. Maybe God was given me some cheese with my whine? <br />
<br />
Two weeks later..............<br />
<br />
I'm pock-less, still pregnant, and returning to work.<br />
<br />
Two months later..............<br />
<br />
I'm pock-less, still pregnant, still at work, and CONTRACTING every FOUR to SIX minutes.<br />
<br />
It is now July, 2004.<br />
<br />
My due date is January 9, 2005.<br />
<br />
HA HA HA.<br />
<br />
My weekly ultrasounds showed a healthy baby boy, albeit a very SMALL healthy baby boy.<br />
<br />
There was some concern about his lungs.<br />
<br />
And this elusive and alleged potential 'scarring' issue.<br />
<br />
We named him right away.<br />
<br />
Just cuz.<br />
<br />
And he was a mover and a shaker, no big surprise there.<br />
<br />
He let me AND the whole world know that he was done being in 'there'.<br />
<br />
On Monday, December 20, 2004, I visited my high risk OB for my twice-weekly ultrasounds.<br />
<br />
It's so much fun to have TWO Obstetricians and to have TWO appointments every week of your pregnancy. Fun, fun, fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
The ultrasound tech said the baby boy looked fine.<br />
<br />
The doc came in.<br />
<br />
Asked me if I had felt Jake move as usual.<br />
<br />
I think I was more stunned than he was, when I said, "Come to think of it, I haven't felt him move since Friday."<br />
<br />
High Risk OB goes into freak out mode.<br />
<br />
He says the BOY is moving fine, but, um.................<br />
<br />
"You're having this baby...........................<br />
<br />
.....................T O D A Y."<br />
<br />
W H A T?<br />
<br />
The news just got worse from there, far before it got better, since y'all know I have more than a healthy baby boy.<br />
<br />
Billy met me at the hospital, Grandma was on her way, Reilly was in safe harbour with the preacher's kids.<br />
<br />
At 641pm, after MANY gory complicated details that belong nowhere but in the abscesses of medical infamy, Jake William Fallon arrived.<br />
<br />
He was little.<br />
<br />
He was jaundiced.<br />
<br />
He was early.<br />
<br />
He needed a teeny little bit of help breathing.<br />
<br />
He had no scars.<br />
<br />
He was...........<br />
<br />
B E A U T I F U L<br />
<br />
and <br />
<br />
P E R F E C T.<br />
<br />
Don't you dare tell him I said that.<br />
<br />
Ladies and gentlemen:<br />
<br />
May I share another miracle of my life, yet again?<br />
<br />
This miracle is my baby boy, my Christmas miracle:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5Q-6RvvWy0Gxm0-_JJMgAPm4YJCcq3Rk5J9x27SqEiF6vtAnAnadeac9VVrf2koJyafvFr5LE6MAxDD9q22mc35yZeu-80hF6cPG64BddGUGoq8393a3b2YoJzp3Qa8UrDy4t2FN9UQ/s1600/welcome_card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5Q-6RvvWy0Gxm0-_JJMgAPm4YJCcq3Rk5J9x27SqEiF6vtAnAnadeac9VVrf2koJyafvFr5LE6MAxDD9q22mc35yZeu-80hF6cPG64BddGUGoq8393a3b2YoJzp3Qa8UrDy4t2FN9UQ/s1600/welcome_card.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Thanks be to God...........<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
PS - Happy Birthday Jake!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4258487258047465253.post-4520679212670458462011-12-19T09:25:00.000-05:002011-12-19T09:25:55.981-05:00Amish Spring BreakSo.<br />
<br />
For those of you who 'know' me...(not in the Biblical sense, thank you very much).<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
For those of you who 'know' me.....you know that I tend to, um, er, uh......<br />
<br />
well, I kinda like sorta, um,......<br />
<br />
SIN with my MOUTH.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
It's word-sinning.<br />
<br />
Or as my dear friend Aunt Jodi tells me, "You were born without a FILTER".<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
Which means I say things that shouldn't be said, or I let out 90% of my thoughts instead of the 10% percent that are acceptable to be orated.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
It's confession time, repentance time, and change time.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
Cuz, there's kind of another problem with the 'Mouth of the South'.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
I cuss like a sailor. And a pirate. And a sailing pirate. <br />
<br />
I know.<br />
<br />
It's bad.<br />
<br />
I shouldn't.<br />
<br />
Oh, but I promise you, it is MUCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHH improved once I had children. <br />
<br />
No, seriously.<br />
<br />
I save the 'bad words' for private adult conversations, or I use them in print in my writings.<br />
<br />
I certainly still 'say' them in my head, whether I want to or not, but they don't cross my lips as much as before.<br />
<br />
And I am very proud to say that my children do NOT use any of those words that they know are VERY bad, even if Mom (or equally as likely....BBFMD = BIG BAD FOUL MOUTHED DAD...sorry Two Swords, but we're in this one together) slips every once in awhile. If I don't catch myself, well, don't you worry, I've got two little brilliant tattle-taling FrankEinsteins to remind me that "Mama! You just said something I N A P P R O P R I A T E"!<br />
<br />
But then, very recently, a very dear and most respected long time "2 AM" friend of mine mentioned that he was searching for a new job.<br />
<br />
I responded that I would certainly pray for him, and if he needed a letter of reference, I would be more than happy to write one for him, since, well, I kinda know my way around a keyboard if youknowhatimeanverne.<br />
<br />
He said, 'Yeah Heather, but, um, you cuss......A L O T."<br />
<br />
SHOCKED (as I thought I had um.....stopped....doing....that.....), I said the only thing I could think of, which was: <br />
<br />
"I promise that I won't in your REFERENCE LETTER?"<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
That was several months ago, but it's been weighing on me ever since, like most painful sins of self-awareness tend to do.<br />
<br />
Let's look at this like an addiction.<br />
<br />
If you try to stop smoking, usually you use replacement therapy such as nicotine patches, gum, Kojak lollipops, Cymbalta, or, in the case of Billy Two Swords - Jolly Ranchers. <br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
I have tried to bite my tongue, but my artificial Tourette's Syndrome just spits out these words that are often bitingly sarcastic, and sometimes, yeah, they are downright M E A N.<br />
<br />
So today, a thought (a pure one, no less) popped into my head.<br />
<br />
I need to use replacement therapy to modify my own behavior!<br />
<br />
DING DING!<br />
<br />
The psych degree pays for itself...A G A I N!<br />
<br />
For the past two hours, I've tried to think of ONE word that will encapsulate all those other 'bad' words that I have said.<br />
<br />
And, yep, I've said every one of them. 'cept one. There's one I've never said. Never said it, never will. If you want to know what it is, well, you'll have to figure it out on your own, cuz I ain't sayin' it. My Mama and Daddy didn't raise us with THAT word in our house.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
The point is this.<br />
<br />
I've found THE word.<br />
<br />
One word.<br />
<br />
An awesome word.<br />
<br />
A good word.<br />
<br />
A word that will garner attention (as if I need an ounce MORE of attention, seriously).<br />
<br />
A word that will fit when I stub my toe and need to SCREAM.<br />
<br />
A word that works in the hospital setting when needles the size of meat thermometers are being shoved into me like I'm the Christmas prime rib.<br />
<br />
A word that works in front of my children.<br />
<br />
A word that works for.....ME.<br />
<br />
You might have heard of it before, might not.<br />
<br />
If not, go ahead and 'google' the title of this post - AMISH SPRING BREAK.<br />
<br />
Okay, so here it goes. <br />
<br />
Ready?<br />
<br />
There's no turning back.<br />
<br />
I'm heading for:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>R U M S P R I N G A</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">~</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0