This weekend was good and bad. Good because we had a great time in Atlanta, the Saints beat the Panthers and the Falcons lost to the Packers. YAY! I got some good quality time with the Mister, plus some rest on yesterday. We launched the newest, hardest released EVAH on Saturday morning, and when I weighed last night, I was down 4lbs! Sweet!
So, on with the bitter. Sometimes being happy just gets tiring, know what I mean? I feel like I have to put on this happy face all the time and I am not doing so well with it these days. I'm not doing so well at all.
Mr. Mc and I were discussing the fall football games, and the Saints play the Falcons in New Orleans the day after Christmas. Mc wants to go. I do, too, but ya know, suddenly I was hit hard by the fact that we were supposed to have our baby with us this Christmas. It hurt. Badly. I thought I had been doing so well. Not anymore. I've cried the last 2, now 3, days. It's getting closer and I'm not sure how I am going to deal with it. I'm not sure I am strong enough.
I've realized that I have been consciously, or maybe even sub-consciously, filling my schedule with things, attempting to stay busy. Like, maybe I can convince myself that I was too busy to have a baby anyway. If I can stay away from home until almost time for bed, I am just too busy, right? If I never have a weekend free...
I am probably inadvertantly doing myself more harm than good. I know this is what the whole marathon thing is about. My knees are killing me, but still I run. It's like I want to punish my body for giving out on me before. Stupid, right?
I hate this. And there really isn't anyone to talk to about it. There's nothing that can be changed anyway. I'm a mess.
As the air becomes more crisp, the leaves begin to change and fall, and the football season continues, one thing becomes painfully clear.
We were supposed to have a baby this Christmas.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Dear God, What Have I Done?
I just announced on FB that I will be doing the New Orleans marathon for my 30th birthday. Darn FB. It is the root of all evil.
Yes, I have misplaced frustration. Can I do it? I hope so. Let the training begin. I gave up nachos anyway, so there is nothing else I want to eat. The marathon diet should be fine.
Yes, I have misplaced frustration. Can I do it? I hope so. Let the training begin. I gave up nachos anyway, so there is nothing else I want to eat. The marathon diet should be fine.
Two Texts and a Phone Call
According to Lo, that is the most effort a man should make in trying to determine whether or not a female is interested. His theory is, if a women does not respond to a man after two texts and a phone call, then she does not wish to have any further involvement with said male. Makes sense to me, I guess.
I am not very single-savvy, as Theo and I have been together since the ripe old age of 19, so I really have no clue as to whether or not this is a reasonable assumption. It sounds about right to me, though. Now, granted, I was a mere teen back when the last male persued me, but I recall being downright giddy whenever the phone would ring, hoping it was him. I THINK I had a Caller ID box connected to my dorm-room phone at the time, however, I am a bit fuzzy on those details. But I do know that I was hoping, wishing, whatever, that he would call - thus letting me know that he was interested, too. Texting wasn't really a "thing" back then, we did have our pagers, but I am pretty sure I hadn't given him that number initially. I will say though, I still get pretty excited to get a sweet text from Mr. Mc, 10 years later.
Despite my leanings toward agreeing with the Two Texts and a Phone Call "rule", I think perhaps it may be a better idea to determine the actual logistics. For instance, perhaps the two texts and phone call all occur on the same day, a day when the would-be recipient is out-of-area or the battery has died on the cell. What then? I know sometimes, depending on the network, I don't even realize I have a missed call unless the person has left a voicemail, which, based on my knowledge of Lo, doubt he would leave a voice message. What if I don't have a text plan? I know that seems kind of like cell blasphemy, but seriously there are people without texts. Like my parents. That annoys the crap out of me - sometimes I just want to text my mom instead of talking. Just let her know I was thinking about her. We found out the hard way that she didn't have a text plan. My dad flipped when he got the bill that month. FLIPPED. Dude, just get texting. He didn't. I digress. What if my screen is broken? What if I am on a cruise/plane/island? What if I dropped my phone in the toilet? There are just so many variables to consider!
We also discussed when is the appropriate time for the communication to occur.
SCENARIO A
Two young professional people meet at a social environment (bar, sports grille, lounge) on a Saturday night. Randal suggests that the "smooth" thing to do would be to contact the female and ask her to meet you (him) after church for lunch. This says to a woman, 1 - he goes to church, 2 - he is interested in seeing me again (and soon!), and 3- this isn't about sex (I personally think that this is probably the best way to get sex - to make it look like it isn't about sex).
SCENARIO B
Two meet at a social setting involving friends (holiday/sports/friendly gathering) on a Saturday night. Once interest has been established, the two will likely go to their respective friends to discover more details regarding the person of interest. Monday, contact will need to be established to perhaps arrange a meeting for later in the week.
This has never happened to me, so I cannot comment either way. According to them, these two scenarios are a typical meet-cute. Okay.
The conversation really didn't get anywhere because Kandis said that Randal didn't do either of those things and she ended up asking him out. And then they had a small tiff and I changed the subject back to what originally spawned the conversation in the first place -- me being through with J because I have been wanting him to show more initiative in wooeing women. Randal went emo for a moment, as he do. He's a cute little emo-boy, though. When he and Kandis get married and have children, as they will -- I have claimed it! -- I hope he has a little boy who goes emo on him like that so he can see what it looks like. Not that I want my little nephew to be emo, but you get what I am saying.
Back to J. He is such a great guy and I really want him to have a meaningful relationship with a woman. And I know a great one who is pretty and kind and sweet, but I think she is a bit reserved. And neither one of them is going to make the first move. Just go on a date already!
I think I am obessed with dating because I never did it. THANK GOD. Because just trying to get other people to do it is stressing me out. I would probably stare at the ceiling all night wondering why my 2 texts are and why I wasn't worthy of being asked to lunch on Sunday after church. So, yay for Theo and I getting to skip all that noise. I cannot imagine dating in the FB era either. NIGHTMARE! People go batshit when they see stuff like "in a relationship" or "it's complicated" as your relationship status. That is just so...nosy anyway.
Ugh, anyway, let me go. I need to send Theo a text. Or two.
I am not very single-savvy, as Theo and I have been together since the ripe old age of 19, so I really have no clue as to whether or not this is a reasonable assumption. It sounds about right to me, though. Now, granted, I was a mere teen back when the last male persued me, but I recall being downright giddy whenever the phone would ring, hoping it was him. I THINK I had a Caller ID box connected to my dorm-room phone at the time, however, I am a bit fuzzy on those details. But I do know that I was hoping, wishing, whatever, that he would call - thus letting me know that he was interested, too. Texting wasn't really a "thing" back then, we did have our pagers, but I am pretty sure I hadn't given him that number initially. I will say though, I still get pretty excited to get a sweet text from Mr. Mc, 10 years later.
Despite my leanings toward agreeing with the Two Texts and a Phone Call "rule", I think perhaps it may be a better idea to determine the actual logistics. For instance, perhaps the two texts and phone call all occur on the same day, a day when the would-be recipient is out-of-area or the battery has died on the cell. What then? I know sometimes, depending on the network, I don't even realize I have a missed call unless the person has left a voicemail, which, based on my knowledge of Lo, doubt he would leave a voice message. What if I don't have a text plan? I know that seems kind of like cell blasphemy, but seriously there are people without texts. Like my parents. That annoys the crap out of me - sometimes I just want to text my mom instead of talking. Just let her know I was thinking about her. We found out the hard way that she didn't have a text plan. My dad flipped when he got the bill that month. FLIPPED. Dude, just get texting. He didn't. I digress. What if my screen is broken? What if I am on a cruise/plane/island? What if I dropped my phone in the toilet? There are just so many variables to consider!
We also discussed when is the appropriate time for the communication to occur.
SCENARIO A
Two young professional people meet at a social environment (bar, sports grille, lounge) on a Saturday night. Randal suggests that the "smooth" thing to do would be to contact the female and ask her to meet you (him) after church for lunch. This says to a woman, 1 - he goes to church, 2 - he is interested in seeing me again (and soon!), and 3- this isn't about sex (I personally think that this is probably the best way to get sex - to make it look like it isn't about sex).
SCENARIO B
Two meet at a social setting involving friends (holiday/sports/friendly gathering) on a Saturday night. Once interest has been established, the two will likely go to their respective friends to discover more details regarding the person of interest. Monday, contact will need to be established to perhaps arrange a meeting for later in the week.
This has never happened to me, so I cannot comment either way. According to them, these two scenarios are a typical meet-cute. Okay.
The conversation really didn't get anywhere because Kandis said that Randal didn't do either of those things and she ended up asking him out. And then they had a small tiff and I changed the subject back to what originally spawned the conversation in the first place -- me being through with J because I have been wanting him to show more initiative in wooeing women. Randal went emo for a moment, as he do. He's a cute little emo-boy, though. When he and Kandis get married and have children, as they will -- I have claimed it! -- I hope he has a little boy who goes emo on him like that so he can see what it looks like. Not that I want my little nephew to be emo, but you get what I am saying.
Back to J. He is such a great guy and I really want him to have a meaningful relationship with a woman. And I know a great one who is pretty and kind and sweet, but I think she is a bit reserved. And neither one of them is going to make the first move. Just go on a date already!
I think I am obessed with dating because I never did it. THANK GOD. Because just trying to get other people to do it is stressing me out. I would probably stare at the ceiling all night wondering why my 2 texts are and why I wasn't worthy of being asked to lunch on Sunday after church. So, yay for Theo and I getting to skip all that noise. I cannot imagine dating in the FB era either. NIGHTMARE! People go batshit when they see stuff like "in a relationship" or "it's complicated" as your relationship status. That is just so...nosy anyway.
Ugh, anyway, let me go. I need to send Theo a text. Or two.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Love the Fall
For some reason, I had this song stuck in my head today. Can I just say, I frickin' love this song? Theo does, too, though he likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else. It is actually one of the songs on the previous BodyStep release. Peak 1, track 4, for some crazy reason was THE hardest track for me to learn last time, when normally I always spazz out around track 5. But, nope, that track, with the weird boxer shuffle always did something to me. I would go the wrong direction, bounce on the wrong beat, eh... The POINT being, because I had such trouble learning the choreo for track 4, I was forced to play this song over and over and over and over and over...you get the idea. And poor Theo just HAPPENED to be home those 2 mornings where I slaved over that song, 45 minutes each day. Seriously, it NEVER takes me that long, normally I can get my choreography down like THAT* (I'm snapping right now, see me? LIKE THAT *snap*). But instead of going batshit crazy on me for having to listen to the song repeatedly, when I apologized after about 5 repeats, "Sorry, baby, I know you are sick of this song," Theo responded, "I kind of like it." And a few weeks later, while I was playing the song just randomly via the computer, Theo walked in and said, "Hey, that's my song!" :) Sweet, right?
I do love the Fall. Something about the air becoming crisp, but not too cold, the leaves turning colors, football, marching bands, I don't know. It just does something to me. I have ALWAYS loved the Fall, I think. Fall means high school dances and hot cocoa from the concession stand. Burnt-orange colored Yankee candles on my parents' mantle.
Now, I realize that it is still September, but a girl can look forward to October, right? Right?
ALSO, please note that the version Theo loves isn't the one below -- it is the remixed BodyStep version. But, you get the picture.
In OTHER news, how about we got halfway to Florence last Saturday - actually MORE than halfway, we were in Moulton -- when Glo (my mama) called and said that we didn't need to come to Florence because my Grandma said she wasn't going to her birthday dinner the next day. Which was the whole reason we were going to Florence in the first place. Kidding me? Nice. Gotta love Grandma, she is a G. We had a good time being in Florence, anyway, and I did go spend some time with my girl before we left. But the end all, be all, at 7pm that Sunday, she did decide that she wanted to have her birthday dinner and went. Theo and I just drove back to Birmingham. Now that I think about it, I should probably be offended. But, I won't be since the only other people who attended the dinner were my aunt, 2 cousins and about 10 kids. I would probably have been too busy trying to discipline the kids to enjoy myself. As it was, I heard that grandma 'acted up' the entire time, per my mother, per my aunt telling my mother. Of course, when I called Grandma to ask how the dinner went, she said it was great. And then she told me that I was the only grandkid that cared about her because I call her to check on her all the time. Awwww. As much as I wanted to bask in that, I told her that wasn't fair because my cousin Jen drives her EVERYWHERE and goes to see her every day and Grandma agreed, Jen cares. I told her I have to call since I don't get to see her like everyone else, so it all kind of balances out. So she decided that her grandDAUGHTERS care, but not her grandsons. Hahaha. I reminded her that Brad always sends cards, candy and money; Damon bought her that super nice flatscreen TV that she HATED and made him take back because it wasn't a "real television set", and Geoffrey had just flipped her mattress for her last month. She wasn't having it.
Poor flatscreen TV. That thing was NICE. NIIIIIICE. Damon had to go back and get her one with the big ass back. Do you KNOW how hard those are to find these days? Gotta love Grandma. Turning her nose up at the latest technology. LOVE.
I do love the Fall. Something about the air becoming crisp, but not too cold, the leaves turning colors, football, marching bands, I don't know. It just does something to me. I have ALWAYS loved the Fall, I think. Fall means high school dances and hot cocoa from the concession stand. Burnt-orange colored Yankee candles on my parents' mantle.
Now, I realize that it is still September, but a girl can look forward to October, right? Right?
ALSO, please note that the version Theo loves isn't the one below -- it is the remixed BodyStep version. But, you get the picture.
In OTHER news, how about we got halfway to Florence last Saturday - actually MORE than halfway, we were in Moulton -- when Glo (my mama) called and said that we didn't need to come to Florence because my Grandma said she wasn't going to her birthday dinner the next day. Which was the whole reason we were going to Florence in the first place. Kidding me? Nice. Gotta love Grandma, she is a G. We had a good time being in Florence, anyway, and I did go spend some time with my girl before we left. But the end all, be all, at 7pm that Sunday, she did decide that she wanted to have her birthday dinner and went. Theo and I just drove back to Birmingham. Now that I think about it, I should probably be offended. But, I won't be since the only other people who attended the dinner were my aunt, 2 cousins and about 10 kids. I would probably have been too busy trying to discipline the kids to enjoy myself. As it was, I heard that grandma 'acted up' the entire time, per my mother, per my aunt telling my mother. Of course, when I called Grandma to ask how the dinner went, she said it was great. And then she told me that I was the only grandkid that cared about her because I call her to check on her all the time. Awwww. As much as I wanted to bask in that, I told her that wasn't fair because my cousin Jen drives her EVERYWHERE and goes to see her every day and Grandma agreed, Jen cares. I told her I have to call since I don't get to see her like everyone else, so it all kind of balances out. So she decided that her grandDAUGHTERS care, but not her grandsons. Hahaha. I reminded her that Brad always sends cards, candy and money; Damon bought her that super nice flatscreen TV that she HATED and made him take back because it wasn't a "real television set", and Geoffrey had just flipped her mattress for her last month. She wasn't having it.
Poor flatscreen TV. That thing was NICE. NIIIIIICE. Damon had to go back and get her one with the big ass back. Do you KNOW how hard those are to find these days? Gotta love Grandma. Turning her nose up at the latest technology. LOVE.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
'33 Was A Very Good Year
So sayeth my grandma, who turned 78 years young today. For all of you mathmeticians out here in cyberspace, that means that my sweet Carliss entered the world in 1933.
I am so happy about today being my lady's birthday. She is probably one of the most awesome people I have ever known. And not because she laughs at my jokes. I love that she is the type of grandma who sits at her chair facing the picture window and takes in everything that happens around her. I love that she has no qualms about calling someone out. And by "out", that can always mean out of their name. My cousin Jennifer has been a "heifer", or rather, "heffa" for the last 10 years. My nearly 40 year old brother Geoffrey is a "boy" and I have been a "little girl" for the past 30 years. I love that she has never really played favorites amongst my brother and I, nor my cousins. She seems to love us all equally - Geoffrey, Damon, Jennifer, Brad and I, her grandbabies.
I love this lady for her strength and willingness to do hard work. I admire that she, without complaint, would go to work Monday - Saturday at 6am as a cook, working long hours in a hot kitchen, preparing meals for others, standing on her feet 10 hours a day, with never enough time to take a break for breakfast or lunch herself. I admire her tenacity, fighting breast cancer with an iron fist, stopping smoking at the age of 70 cold turkey, despite having been a smoker since the age of 11.
One of the things I hate about not living in Florence (and granted there are just about a handful), is the fact that I cannot be close to her. Whenever I go "home", her apartment is usually my first stop, and before I leave, my last. I love just being around my "girl". The things she says. The way she always smells (which alternates between cornbread and White Diamonds). The way she laughs and tells me "Girl, you crazy." The way she always says that it is "good to be here." The way she makes 9 sweet potato pies every Thanksgiving and how NO ONE, I mean NO ONE can make chicken and dressing taste the way she does.
I love that I can call and ask what she is doing and it will either be, "Watching' Ol' Andy," or "Eatin' a chicken wing," or "Sittin' on the porch," or "Lookin' out the window". I love that she talks smack about her neighbors, "Them N^@@&$ know they didn't need no new mattress," and "They don't never go to work," and calls them suckas, patties, and stumps.
I love that she calls Mr. Mc, my "old man" and always makes certain to ask how he is doing whenever we talk. I love that she always has time to talk to me, about nothing at all, and it seem like the most important thing in the world. I love her cheese toast, always burnt a bit, but the best you will ever eat. I love that a 'salad', to her, is lettuce and mayonaise and a sandwich is bread and tomato.
I love that she puts people in their place with no preamble. It is what it is. No sorry and no lead in. "You don't speak for me, heifer. Now, go get my chicken," what she told Jennifer after Jennifer told her she didn't like Popeye's.
I love that she cleans her bathtub every day. I love that she won't accept that Dr. McFall has diagnosed her with early Alzheimer's. I don't accept it either, Grandma. I love that she doesn't need much. Just 2 pieces and a biscuit from Popeye's (and a snark on the "big booty black stump" who owns it), a new dress every now and then, a visit to "the church-house" and a good pair of teeth. I would give you the world, Grandma.
But most of all, I just love her for being her. Happy Birthday to my girl. I love you.
I am so happy about today being my lady's birthday. She is probably one of the most awesome people I have ever known. And not because she laughs at my jokes. I love that she is the type of grandma who sits at her chair facing the picture window and takes in everything that happens around her. I love that she has no qualms about calling someone out. And by "out", that can always mean out of their name. My cousin Jennifer has been a "heifer", or rather, "heffa" for the last 10 years. My nearly 40 year old brother Geoffrey is a "boy" and I have been a "little girl" for the past 30 years. I love that she has never really played favorites amongst my brother and I, nor my cousins. She seems to love us all equally - Geoffrey, Damon, Jennifer, Brad and I, her grandbabies.
I love this lady for her strength and willingness to do hard work. I admire that she, without complaint, would go to work Monday - Saturday at 6am as a cook, working long hours in a hot kitchen, preparing meals for others, standing on her feet 10 hours a day, with never enough time to take a break for breakfast or lunch herself. I admire her tenacity, fighting breast cancer with an iron fist, stopping smoking at the age of 70 cold turkey, despite having been a smoker since the age of 11.
One of the things I hate about not living in Florence (and granted there are just about a handful), is the fact that I cannot be close to her. Whenever I go "home", her apartment is usually my first stop, and before I leave, my last. I love just being around my "girl". The things she says. The way she always smells (which alternates between cornbread and White Diamonds). The way she laughs and tells me "Girl, you crazy." The way she always says that it is "good to be here." The way she makes 9 sweet potato pies every Thanksgiving and how NO ONE, I mean NO ONE can make chicken and dressing taste the way she does.
I love that I can call and ask what she is doing and it will either be, "Watching' Ol' Andy," or "Eatin' a chicken wing," or "Sittin' on the porch," or "Lookin' out the window". I love that she talks smack about her neighbors, "Them N^@@&$ know they didn't need no new mattress," and "They don't never go to work," and calls them suckas, patties, and stumps.
I love that she calls Mr. Mc, my "old man" and always makes certain to ask how he is doing whenever we talk. I love that she always has time to talk to me, about nothing at all, and it seem like the most important thing in the world. I love her cheese toast, always burnt a bit, but the best you will ever eat. I love that a 'salad', to her, is lettuce and mayonaise and a sandwich is bread and tomato.
I love that she puts people in their place with no preamble. It is what it is. No sorry and no lead in. "You don't speak for me, heifer. Now, go get my chicken," what she told Jennifer after Jennifer told her she didn't like Popeye's.
I love that she cleans her bathtub every day. I love that she won't accept that Dr. McFall has diagnosed her with early Alzheimer's. I don't accept it either, Grandma. I love that she doesn't need much. Just 2 pieces and a biscuit from Popeye's (and a snark on the "big booty black stump" who owns it), a new dress every now and then, a visit to "the church-house" and a good pair of teeth. I would give you the world, Grandma.
But most of all, I just love her for being her. Happy Birthday to my girl. I love you.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Like Water off a Duck's Back
I have been struggling the past 2 days. A few people, names to remain unwritten, have been working my nerves. I have prayed about it, and last night, while in the shower, I thought of ducks and the idiom that they are known for.
"Because of the glandular oil with which ducks preen their feathers, waterfowl have plumage which repels moisture-- this is why ducks can swim about for a lengthy spell before getting too wet to float. Water can roll off a duck's back without effect."
I have decided that I should take criticism by the same token. Try, at the very least. The days, they are long. But, I will attempt to retain a sense of optimism. Stay tuned on that note.
In other news, the weekend went over smashingly well. Saturday was very...physical for me to say the least. I began the morning at 7am by meeting with my running group at the Lakeshore Trail. We did 4 miles - wow! Afterwards, I was in the car, comforting myself after the run with the fact that since it was only 8am, I would have time to stretch before teaching BodyStep at 930. By the time I got to the gym at 8:10, however, I pulled into the lot and after a quick scan for Holly's BMW, "Betty", I thought to myself,
Oh, CRAP.
It's Labor Day Weekend. Meaning, Holly is at the beach and Jaz is BodyPumping today at 8:15 before BodyStep. Great. Needless to say, I was wore OUT by the time Step ended at 10:30. But, man, it hurt so good. What didn't hurt so good? The fricking blister that had formed on the back on my right heel. Ugh. Fricking salesguy at The Track Shack said that the shoe fit properly, even though I expressed concern that the heel was moving up and down. Yeah, no. Blister.
After a quick shower, which included blister burning when water touched it, I met up with Kandis and Frenchie at Edgar's. Love them and love Edgar's. Spending time with those two is just...easy, know what I mean? It is almost like spending a day by myself, because the 3 of us are so in sync. Does that make me sound full of conceit to then say that they are fabulous? If so, too dang bad. I love being with those chicks.
Afterward our nearly 3 hour brunch, I went to Publix to get the week's groceries. HATE when my regular cashier and bagger are off. HATE! There is one guy who completely SUCKS at bagging and I almost always get him when my regular bagger Bernard isn't there. I don't start off at a register where he is working, he somehow always finds his way over to me. I almost wanted to tell him not to fricking bother. He is a horrible bagger. I could rant on his horribleness for days. Is horribleness a word? Doubtful. Did I mention how much he sucks as a bagger? I left half of the groceries in the car for Theo to bring up later that night because I was fairly certain that the bags were going to fall apart before making it up the stairs. To be fair, I told Theo what and why I did what I did. After carrying the bags up (3 trips, natch) 5 hours later, he agreed with my opinion of the bad bagger. Ugh. I hope my Bernard is back next week. If not, I am limiting my purchase to bread and milk.
Marlon came over that night to watch the game and shoot the breeze with Theo, Lo and Walt, in town from Nash. Aww, Marlon. He is one of my faves, for real. I love that he married Frenchie. I have benefitted so much from their relationship. She is great. Did I tell you she was great? Too bad Marlon got in trouble that night. Before I went to sleep at 11pm, I told him Frenchie said for him to be home in 30 mins. I found out the next morning that he stayed until 5am. YIKES. But, at least he was safe and there were no hoes around. Just boys and football. No worries!
Kandis and One L celebrated their 1 year anniversary on Sunday. Awww! Love! We had a fish fry at the apartment and folks came over and it was fantabulous. Our friends are pretty dang awesome, if I say so myself. :) Kandis did get in trouble for not making cookies. She knows she is the cookie lady. Get on your J-O-B, Kandis. Will forgive since I picked up some cupcakes when Theo and I made a quick stop at Publix after church Sunday. No sign of bad bagger. Thank God.
Maybe I am too invested in this bagging thing. Do other people pay this much attention? I spend too much time at Publix. They all know my name. Is that weird? Meh.
Tomorrow is Date Night with Krystle! Also known as Negro Night because we watch Black films and snark on them. Lo would be so disgusted. He would likely accuse us of not being supportive of our people. I refute that. It's just that since the inception of Krystle and Jaz's Negro Night, we have yet to watch a movie that was actually good. Now, I know there are good Black films, but we prefer to watch the bad ones. There are just so many B-Black films out here. AWFUL.
OMG, this movie was pure garbage gold. It is a damn shame when bad acting happens to mediocre actors.
On a completely random, un-related note, did you know that Maurice Clarett had a blog?
W.
T.
F.
I feel as if my blog has been cheapened by this somehow.
"Because of the glandular oil with which ducks preen their feathers, waterfowl have plumage which repels moisture-- this is why ducks can swim about for a lengthy spell before getting too wet to float. Water can roll off a duck's back without effect."
I have decided that I should take criticism by the same token. Try, at the very least. The days, they are long. But, I will attempt to retain a sense of optimism. Stay tuned on that note.
In other news, the weekend went over smashingly well. Saturday was very...physical for me to say the least. I began the morning at 7am by meeting with my running group at the Lakeshore Trail. We did 4 miles - wow! Afterwards, I was in the car, comforting myself after the run with the fact that since it was only 8am, I would have time to stretch before teaching BodyStep at 930. By the time I got to the gym at 8:10, however, I pulled into the lot and after a quick scan for Holly's BMW, "Betty", I thought to myself,
Oh, CRAP.
It's Labor Day Weekend. Meaning, Holly is at the beach and Jaz is BodyPumping today at 8:15 before BodyStep. Great. Needless to say, I was wore OUT by the time Step ended at 10:30. But, man, it hurt so good. What didn't hurt so good? The fricking blister that had formed on the back on my right heel. Ugh. Fricking salesguy at The Track Shack said that the shoe fit properly, even though I expressed concern that the heel was moving up and down. Yeah, no. Blister.
After a quick shower, which included blister burning when water touched it, I met up with Kandis and Frenchie at Edgar's. Love them and love Edgar's. Spending time with those two is just...easy, know what I mean? It is almost like spending a day by myself, because the 3 of us are so in sync. Does that make me sound full of conceit to then say that they are fabulous? If so, too dang bad. I love being with those chicks.
Afterward our nearly 3 hour brunch, I went to Publix to get the week's groceries. HATE when my regular cashier and bagger are off. HATE! There is one guy who completely SUCKS at bagging and I almost always get him when my regular bagger Bernard isn't there. I don't start off at a register where he is working, he somehow always finds his way over to me. I almost wanted to tell him not to fricking bother. He is a horrible bagger. I could rant on his horribleness for days. Is horribleness a word? Doubtful. Did I mention how much he sucks as a bagger? I left half of the groceries in the car for Theo to bring up later that night because I was fairly certain that the bags were going to fall apart before making it up the stairs. To be fair, I told Theo what and why I did what I did. After carrying the bags up (3 trips, natch) 5 hours later, he agreed with my opinion of the bad bagger. Ugh. I hope my Bernard is back next week. If not, I am limiting my purchase to bread and milk.
Marlon came over that night to watch the game and shoot the breeze with Theo, Lo and Walt, in town from Nash. Aww, Marlon. He is one of my faves, for real. I love that he married Frenchie. I have benefitted so much from their relationship. She is great. Did I tell you she was great? Too bad Marlon got in trouble that night. Before I went to sleep at 11pm, I told him Frenchie said for him to be home in 30 mins. I found out the next morning that he stayed until 5am. YIKES. But, at least he was safe and there were no hoes around. Just boys and football. No worries!
Kandis and One L celebrated their 1 year anniversary on Sunday. Awww! Love! We had a fish fry at the apartment and folks came over and it was fantabulous. Our friends are pretty dang awesome, if I say so myself. :) Kandis did get in trouble for not making cookies. She knows she is the cookie lady. Get on your J-O-B, Kandis. Will forgive since I picked up some cupcakes when Theo and I made a quick stop at Publix after church Sunday. No sign of bad bagger. Thank God.
Maybe I am too invested in this bagging thing. Do other people pay this much attention? I spend too much time at Publix. They all know my name. Is that weird? Meh.
Tomorrow is Date Night with Krystle! Also known as Negro Night because we watch Black films and snark on them. Lo would be so disgusted. He would likely accuse us of not being supportive of our people. I refute that. It's just that since the inception of Krystle and Jaz's Negro Night, we have yet to watch a movie that was actually good. Now, I know there are good Black films, but we prefer to watch the bad ones. There are just so many B-Black films out here. AWFUL.
OMG, this movie was pure
On a completely random, un-related note, did you know that Maurice Clarett had a blog?
W.
T.
F.
I feel as if my blog has been cheapened by this somehow.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
I Don't Care What You Say
Conversate is not a word.
Merriam-Webster.com has it listed as a nonstandard, first used in 1973. Ugh. Don't feed the beast, Webster. The word is converse. Not to be confused with Converse
Converse:
CONVERSE:
I know in my blog posts, I am the reigning Queen of improper grammar usage, but in my everyday life, and ESPECIALLY my professional career, I try to be mindful of my speech. I just find it...disconcerting that someone with a college degrees from a respectful institution will use a non-word such as 'conversating' in a meeting with a superior. And not even in a referential manner -- the non-word was used as if it made perfect sense. As a replacement for "when speaking with ___" or "in conversations with ___" or "after conversing with_____"
/rant over.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Today Was A Good Day
I think I love today. It was nothing that I expected when I woke up this morning, but that's cool. It's good to switch things up a bit, take the day as it comes. Stop being so rigid. Ahh, let me stop. Actually, my day today wasn't all that different from any other day, except for the fact that it is Friday. If today was Monday, today's turn of events would be my regularly scheduled programming.
Kandis hit me up via text to see if we could get a workout in. I normally don't get my sweat on on Fridays, but I figure, why the heck not? See me? That's flex. I hit Mindi up on FB, caught Lindsey the new counselor chick at the office before she clocked out and grabbed my DVD of BodyStep 85. And it was ON like...Donkey Kong? WTH do people say that? I'm sorry I did. Moving on...
After a grueling workout in the cardio cinema (thanks, Joe, for letting me re-arrange the gym to suit me!), we sat and chilled, shooting the breeze. I'm pausing to state that Mindi B. is one cool chick. I'm glad to have her on my squad. Speaking of squads, before I get back to the Mindi story, One L Randy mentioned about 2 weeks ago that he was pleasantly pleased that I had Kandis on my squad. Of course he is. He loves her, doncha know? As he should. That girl, Kandis, she is a find. Smart, beautiful, kind and cool. Thank GOD, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the Wise Men, Moses, Noah, Abraham, Jonah, all of them that Randy got his love life together. There was only so much more I could take from his chick-of-the-season having ass. Kandis, she is The One. Theo and I knew it all along. Awww. Love. Anyways, back to Mindi. Before you ask, yes, she is a Black chick. Crazy, right? What negroes you know name their kid 'Mindi'? With an i on the end to boot? Shocked me, too. So, Mindi stresses out a lot. She has a stressful job, working for one of those government agencies with 3 letters for a name. It must really suck to tell people where you work and people physically recoil. It happens, I have seen it. Theo pulled back a bit when she told him. Ha.
Mindi stresses and worries a lot about health and other junk. I feel her, I do that stuff too. It's pointless. So I will give her the advice I attempt on myself when I get stressed out. "Jaz (Mindi), stressing yourself out over that shit isn't going to make it any better. I (You) cannot control other people's actions, only my (your) own. I (You) only have one life to live and this is it. I (You) shouldn't waste time worrying about something that in the grand scheme of things, no one is going to remember anyway. As far as health/weight/money goes, all I (you) can do is to try my best to do the right things for me (you). Take care of self. But most of all, I (you) need to try to be happy and be a good person. Why not? Trust God, He will take care of everything else. He's GOT THIS. That's what He does. "
You listening, Mindi? You are ridiculously smart (Valedictorian, plus 2 college degrees to be exact), beautiful with a great bod (I hate your flat stomach, tiny waist, and curvy hips UGH It's one of those ba-dow bodies and you don't even appreciate it - BITCH! - no homo), are strong, fit and athletic, live in a VERY nice gated community, have great friends (like Ireshia, Ashley, Horace, Kandis and ME!), and just a good, down-to-earth person. So, take this virtual bitchslap to reality like the G that you are.
I have more to say about this, but Theo has come home and he is acting like he is about to die of hunger. I need to wrap this up before he makes me go Ike Turner on that ass for acting like he is brand new. Negro, just eat the cake.
Kandis hit me up via text to see if we could get a workout in. I normally don't get my sweat on on Fridays, but I figure, why the heck not? See me? That's flex. I hit Mindi up on FB, caught Lindsey the new counselor chick at the office before she clocked out and grabbed my DVD of BodyStep 85. And it was ON like...Donkey Kong? WTH do people say that? I'm sorry I did. Moving on...
After a grueling workout in the cardio cinema (thanks, Joe, for letting me re-arrange the gym to suit me!), we sat and chilled, shooting the breeze. I'm pausing to state that Mindi B. is one cool chick. I'm glad to have her on my squad. Speaking of squads, before I get back to the Mindi story, One L Randy mentioned about 2 weeks ago that he was pleasantly pleased that I had Kandis on my squad. Of course he is. He loves her, doncha know? As he should. That girl, Kandis, she is a find. Smart, beautiful, kind and cool. Thank GOD, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the Wise Men, Moses, Noah, Abraham, Jonah, all of them that Randy got his love life together. There was only so much more I could take from his chick-of-the-season having ass. Kandis, she is The One. Theo and I knew it all along. Awww. Love. Anyways, back to Mindi. Before you ask, yes, she is a Black chick. Crazy, right? What negroes you know name their kid 'Mindi'? With an i on the end to boot? Shocked me, too. So, Mindi stresses out a lot. She has a stressful job, working for one of those government agencies with 3 letters for a name. It must really suck to tell people where you work and people physically recoil. It happens, I have seen it. Theo pulled back a bit when she told him. Ha.
Mindi stresses and worries a lot about health and other junk. I feel her, I do that stuff too. It's pointless. So I will give her the advice I attempt on myself when I get stressed out. "Jaz (Mindi), stressing yourself out over that shit isn't going to make it any better. I (You) cannot control other people's actions, only my (your) own. I (You) only have one life to live and this is it. I (You) shouldn't waste time worrying about something that in the grand scheme of things, no one is going to remember anyway. As far as health/weight/money goes, all I (you) can do is to try my best to do the right things for me (you). Take care of self. But most of all, I (you) need to try to be happy and be a good person. Why not? Trust God, He will take care of everything else. He's GOT THIS. That's what He does. "
You listening, Mindi? You are ridiculously smart (Valedictorian, plus 2 college degrees to be exact), beautiful with a great bod (I hate your flat stomach, tiny waist, and curvy hips UGH It's one of those ba-dow bodies and you don't even appreciate it - BITCH! - no homo), are strong, fit and athletic, live in a VERY nice gated community, have great friends (like Ireshia, Ashley, Horace, Kandis and ME!), and just a good, down-to-earth person. So, take this virtual bitchslap to reality like the G that you are.
I have more to say about this, but Theo has come home and he is acting like he is about to die of hunger. I need to wrap this up before he makes me go Ike Turner on that ass for acting like he is brand new. Negro, just eat the cake.
Date Day!
I've got a date with two beautiful girls tomorrow! :)
I plan on waking up early, running with the Black Girls, teaching BodyStep, then meeting up with Kandis and Frenchie at Edgar's. Doesn't that sound GREAT?! In related news, I will probably pass out from exhaustion around 3pm tomorrow afternoon.
I plan on waking up early, running with the Black Girls, teaching BodyStep, then meeting up with Kandis and Frenchie at Edgar's. Doesn't that sound GREAT?! In related news, I will probably pass out from exhaustion around 3pm tomorrow afternoon.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
I'ma Do Me
And am.
Today, I had some great interaction via the internets with Allison, my very own drill sargeant/friend. I have committed to becoming a personal trainer. THIS, I will do, no later than February 2012. My plan is to make it happen before 2011 is over, but that is my soft deadline. Hard deadline, 2/1/12. I need to start making plans for my future, and stop letting the future make the plans for me. I have been letting life happen to me for a good while, but you know what -- that is all about the change. For realz. I have got to get serious about what *I* want to do with MY life.
Theo has been on me about this for years. He is so...something. Real talk, that dude is borderline crazy, but about this, he makes much sense. I love him, though. He tells me that I need to do something with myself, to get on board with SOMEthing. He actually probably isn't as crazy as I portray him sometimes. He has got a lot going on in that head of his, and unfortunately, I don't always seem to understand his thought process. But I will tell you this about the man, he has goals and he is willing to put in time and work on what he wants. And as he always says to me, "Have I ever not done something I told you I was going to do? Have we ever struggled?" That is a hard and thankful nope. He hasn't and we haven't. Thank God. I love that the boy is a worker. He is goal-oriented, driven, ambitious, all that stuff. That is some sexy stuff right there. Ain't nothing like a lazy, no-count, no dream-having sorry sucka. I don't care how fine a dude might look, letting time pass you by without having a plan for your life is very unattractive. Yuck. So, I got to thinking, if *I* think something isn't cool for someone else, why am I allowing myself to do get by with doing, or in my case - not doing -- the same thing?
I need some goals. Seriously, I used to have plans for myself, but then life happened, and not the way I expected it to. It's wild when the picture you painted for yourself in your mind just doesn't end up looking the way you imagined it would. Not that it is a bad thing necessarily. It just...is. And so, now, here I am, 29 years and counting, with no clear idea on what I want to do or be "when I grow up."
When I was a kid, I dreamed of becoming a writer. Truth be told, I still do. But a funny thing happened on the way to adulthood -- reality. There are millions, billions, of people out here with stars in their eyes and the ultimate dream of become a NYT bestselling author, with their names in big bold letters across the front cover and spine of books being sold world-wide. But the reality is, there are only going to be so many J.K. Rowlings, Stephenie Meyers, Kurt Vonneguts, John Grishams, and Nicholas Sparks. And honestly, my goal was actually to be more like a Ann M. Martin, Francine Pascal or Betsy Haynes. But then, instead of Bradford Court, I somehow ended up on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
That's a scary route to take and I am waaaaay too young to be on that path. Really, anyone who is breathing is too young to be on that path. I had goals once. And I need to get them back before I become one of those people I despise.
I have gotten so caught up in the day-to-day, that I have lost sight of my actual life. Don't get me wrong, I love what Mr. Mc and I have got going on here in B'ham. We've got jobs, a roof over our heads (with vaulted ceilings!), food in the fridge (shoot, I have a favorite grocery store! shout out to Publix on Hwy 31!), some cash in the bank, an AMAZING circle of friends, supportive family, and our health (for the purpose of making a point, please disregard that my knee feels like someone has poured kerosene on it). We've got it all. Oh, and for all of the religious wingnuts out there, yes, we also have Jesus, lest you condemn me for not mentioning Him. (Love you, Jesus!) Moving on... what I am saying here is, Jaz ought to start doing some of the things Jaz wants to do before Jaz can't do. I'm getting back into writing. Maybe not a book, but a blog is something, right? And my PT certification is on deck. I don't know about the rest of ya'll, but I am about to change my whole scene. Hope you can say the same. If not, hey, whatev. You just do you, I'ma do me.
Today, I had some great interaction via the internets with Allison, my very own drill sargeant/friend. I have committed to becoming a personal trainer. THIS, I will do, no later than February 2012. My plan is to make it happen before 2011 is over, but that is my soft deadline. Hard deadline, 2/1/12. I need to start making plans for my future, and stop letting the future make the plans for me. I have been letting life happen to me for a good while, but you know what -- that is all about the change. For realz. I have got to get serious about what *I* want to do with MY life.
Theo has been on me about this for years. He is so...something. Real talk, that dude is borderline crazy, but about this, he makes much sense. I love him, though. He tells me that I need to do something with myself, to get on board with SOMEthing. He actually probably isn't as crazy as I portray him sometimes. He has got a lot going on in that head of his, and unfortunately, I don't always seem to understand his thought process. But I will tell you this about the man, he has goals and he is willing to put in time and work on what he wants. And as he always says to me, "Have I ever not done something I told you I was going to do? Have we ever struggled?" That is a hard and thankful nope. He hasn't and we haven't. Thank God. I love that the boy is a worker. He is goal-oriented, driven, ambitious, all that stuff. That is some sexy stuff right there. Ain't nothing like a lazy, no-count, no dream-having sorry sucka. I don't care how fine a dude might look, letting time pass you by without having a plan for your life is very unattractive. Yuck. So, I got to thinking, if *I* think something isn't cool for someone else, why am I allowing myself to do get by with doing, or in my case - not doing -- the same thing?
I need some goals. Seriously, I used to have plans for myself, but then life happened, and not the way I expected it to. It's wild when the picture you painted for yourself in your mind just doesn't end up looking the way you imagined it would. Not that it is a bad thing necessarily. It just...is. And so, now, here I am, 29 years and counting, with no clear idea on what I want to do or be "when I grow up."
When I was a kid, I dreamed of becoming a writer. Truth be told, I still do. But a funny thing happened on the way to adulthood -- reality. There are millions, billions, of people out here with stars in their eyes and the ultimate dream of become a NYT bestselling author, with their names in big bold letters across the front cover and spine of books being sold world-wide. But the reality is, there are only going to be so many J.K. Rowlings, Stephenie Meyers, Kurt Vonneguts, John Grishams, and Nicholas Sparks. And honestly, my goal was actually to be more like a Ann M. Martin, Francine Pascal or Betsy Haynes. But then, instead of Bradford Court, I somehow ended up on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
That's a scary route to take and I am waaaaay too young to be on that path. Really, anyone who is breathing is too young to be on that path. I had goals once. And I need to get them back before I become one of those people I despise.
I have gotten so caught up in the day-to-day, that I have lost sight of my actual life. Don't get me wrong, I love what Mr. Mc and I have got going on here in B'ham. We've got jobs, a roof over our heads (with vaulted ceilings!), food in the fridge (shoot, I have a favorite grocery store! shout out to Publix on Hwy 31!), some cash in the bank, an AMAZING circle of friends, supportive family, and our health (for the purpose of making a point, please disregard that my knee feels like someone has poured kerosene on it). We've got it all. Oh, and for all of the religious wingnuts out there, yes, we also have Jesus, lest you condemn me for not mentioning Him. (Love you, Jesus!) Moving on... what I am saying here is, Jaz ought to start doing some of the things Jaz wants to do before Jaz can't do. I'm getting back into writing. Maybe not a book, but a blog is something, right? And my PT certification is on deck. I don't know about the rest of ya'll, but I am about to change my whole scene. Hope you can say the same. If not, hey, whatev. You just do you, I'ma do me.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Coming Clean
I hadn't forgotten about this blog. I was staying away from it because I just wasn't ready to write anymore. Not this way. I still wrote in my journal. Not daily, but at least a few times a month. Especially on days when I simply couldn't keep a handle on my emotions. But blogging is something different. Putting my feelings, my life, out in a place that isn't just my own, that I can't slide underneath my side of the bed and know that no one would read; I just wasn't able to do it. But if I am going to come back, to really commit to this blog and be honest about our lives, I can't just put our friends' antics into print. I have to put myself out here as well. So here goes. These are the words that I have never been ever to write, not even in my journal. Words that haven't gotten easier to say in the past four months.
I had a miscarriage.
It may not seem like anything to you, the person reading this, it may be common occurance, but for me...
I hope that this helps me, and if not me, maybe someone else, some random Googler who is going through the same thing, to heal. To know that it is not easy,that your feelings are valid, that something isn't wrong with you and it isn't your fault that this happened.
It happened on a Friday afternoon. I was with my mentee/little sister and I just didn't feel right, so I took her home, called my brother and at his suggestion, stopped at the Exxon to use the restroom. I remember pink streaks on the tissue, not blood, and despite all of the books saying that this was normal, I knew something just wasn't right. So, I drove myself straight to the Brookwood emergency room, frantically trying to reach Theo on his cell. I remember every second of that night. My former stylist Anita being in the emergency room with her daughter, trying to get me to calm down and requesting immediate assistance. Theo and Marlon rushing in. Screaming in the hospital restroom. Kandis, Frenchie and Jessi holding my hand. Theo's face. Drinking lots of water so that they could do an ultrasound. Pain on the right side of my body. My parents and G driving in from Florence in record-time. Theo's face. Waiting for a doctor to tell me something I already knew. Theo holding my hand, telling me no matter what happened, everything would be ok, that we would be ok.
She said it so matter of factly, the doctor. I just remember Theo's face. My husband, struggling to keep it together. It is so hard for me to write this, tears streaming down my face even now. I keep flashing back to the first part of that day, that beautiful Friday after that awful storm had ravaged our city. You know how calm it gets after a storm? And how it seems so...wrong for the sun to shine so brightly and the wind to blow and flowers to still bloom? Just a few days earlier than that Friday, tornadoes had come through and completely destroyed entire neighborhoods. But that day, that Friday, my world had started out beautifully.
My friend David, who is also our realtor, Allison and I had gone house-hunting and found, what we had thought, was THE one. It was beautiful and big and had absolutely everything Theo and I had been looking for. I remember dancing in the foyer, picking out which room would be the baby's, talking about painting the kitchen with Allison, my very own drill sergeant/Martha Stewart, and deciding that the backyard would definitely be big enough for a swingset. We arranged for Theo and I to have another showing that Sunday, so he could see it, love it, then we could make an official offer.
That was just 3 hours earlier.
I hated having to look at Theo, my family and our friends. But, I loved them so much for being there. When we walked out of the ER doors, the waiting room was filled with people. Filled. But instead of the seats being occupied by sick and/or hurt people, they were reserved for our friends and family. People who had left work, ended their date nights early, driven from afar, done whatever it took to be there with us, with me, when I couldn't be there for myself. I felt like a failure. I didn't care what anyone said, doctors, friends, websites, whatever. I didn't care. I felt as if body couldn't do what it was supposed to do, when it was supposed to do it. I know now that it DID, but it still doesn't hurt any less.
People say, "Oh, it just wasn't the right time," and "Something must have been wrong," and "God knows best," like it is just supposed to be better because they say these things. Like you should just say, "Okay, you're right, let's go home!" and all is right in your world. Guess what? It's not.
Despite people's best efforts to make me feel better, I had never felt more alone. Damaged. I learned that others have a inate need for a person to seem 'better' as quickly as possible. I had only been pregnant for a short time, after all. Wasn't it better that I find out now instead of later, when I had gotten attached? People didn't seem to realize that I was attached. I know 6 weeks isn't 6 months, but it is long enough to get excited about something. To look forward to something. To really have joy. I remember that being pregnant made me look at myself differently. I remember feeling different. Beautiful. Strong. I loved that feeling. I loved the excitement on my husband's face. I loved the pride in my mother's voice. I remember being so afraid that I would somehow mess it all up. Terrified that something would go wrong. And then, it did. I felt guilty. I felt like a failure. I felt like I had nothing to look forward to anymore. And no one could understand. I was just supposed to be 'better'.
The doctor prescribed painkillers that I really wasn't too interested in taking. I wasn't a very good patient. Instead of taking the meds as prescribed, I would wait and take the pills once the pain became unbearable. And then, like a child, I would fight the sleep that would attempt to come as a side-effect. I think I still have 1/2 a bottle of them left in our medicine cabinet. I just wasn't that interested in being doped up as a means of coping. The pain in my abdomen was minimal compared to the pain I suffered emotionally. I took the meds for about 2 days.
Those days, that week after the miscarriage, I learned so much about myself, about others, about life. I looked to my husband, who surprised me in how well he handled himself and the situation, and how he wanted so badly, needed me to be myself again. He did things without my asking, without my knowledge, things I never would have thought of, but was so glad that he had. When my pregnancy was confirmed, I had gone to the library and checked out as many books on the subject as possible. I had magazines and brochures from the Dr. Roberts, pregnancy cookbooks strewn all over our apartment. On Saturday afternoon, when I finally woke, I realized that our home was spotless and completely void of anything having to do with pregnancy. Theo had taken all of the books back to the library, and later I found all of the magazines and brochures packed away in a box, deep inside of our walk-in closet. The pregnancy test that he had squealed over, then the second that he had needed me to take "just to be sure", that he had labeled with the date, were sealed away in a plastic bag, in the box as well. Finding those things, over a month later, my heart ached for this man, my husband, who had hidden his hurt so well so that I could rely on his strength. I love him.
I also learned that on that Saturday, while I slept, he had my Jeep fitted with all new tires and brakes, things that I had barely noticed I needed, but he knew all along. Breakfast was waiting for me, though it was aleady past noon, all of the things I loved, exactly how I liked them, from the IHOP down the street. And though he wasn't home when I got out of bed that day, he had only recently left, and shortly thereafter there was a light knock on the door, then a key in the lock, and a friend he had called (and given a key to), came in to give me a warm hug. We watched The Joneses and The Joy Luck Club, Krystle and I. Not talking about anything, deliberately avoiding a subject I just wasn't ready to talk about. I loved her for just being there, my friend.
By Sunday, Theo desperately needed me to smile. He wanted me to just get past it, to get on with our lives. "I want my wife back," he said as we stood on our porch, leaning over the stair railings. Didn't he realize I wanted the same thing? But, I simply couldn't imagine that things could ever be the same. That I could smile again instead of wanting to cry. How would he expect me to be back to the way I was, so soon? Could I ever be? I wanted to be happy again, to be the old me. The me that smiled and laughed and maked lame jokes. I was so afraid that 'she' was lost to me forever. Kandis came over that day. I remember her call came while I was at the grocery store. I had needed to get out of the house, so I tried to do something that was 'normal' to me. The gym was out. Work was out. So, to the store I went. I cried in Publix that day. All I could remember thinking was, "I lost my baby." Except nobody thought it was a baby, it seemed, but me. Kandis called right before I completely lost it, standing in front of the aisle with all the baby things. It was if, she knew that very second that I needed her. She asked if I wanted some company. A part of me almost said no, because I didn't want to have to pretend to be 'better'. But the other part of me realized how selfless it was for someone to offer to be with you when you are at your lowest. Kandis is like that. Selfless. Kind. She made cookies that day. I think we ate the entire pan. And she painted my toenails. And she hugged me something fierce when I broke down. She told me all the things I had heard from nurses and the doctor, but when she said it, I really wanted to believe her. That it wasn't my fault. That it was because my body knew something was wrong. That God knows what is best and was looking out for us. That is was better that it happened then instead of much later. I wanted so badly to believe her. More than anyone and anything else, I clung to what she said. And even though I didn't believe her then, I wanted to try.
I had a doctor's appointment the next day. I had been scheduled to come that day anyway. Cruel fate. Initially, that had been the date of my check-up and blood work. My parents came back to Birmingham so that my mother could be with me when my doctor confirmed what another had already told me. The nurse, my favorite nurse, LaLa, cried with me and my mother.And Dr. Roberts assured me that everything looked ok, that just because this happened doesn't mean anything, and that there is nothing that can be done to ensure that it doesn't happen again, so stop worrying about that I cannot control. Theo urged me to go back to Florence with my parents for the week since he was going to have to leave for Columbus that night. And so, I allowed my parents the chance to take care of me. And I saw my mother experience the same helplessness I felt, in that she ached for me not to have to go through what I was going through, but there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
I realized that no one really knows what to do in life. All of us are just going through, our first time and last time here on Earth, living life the way we hope God wants us to. We just handle things the best that we can when the time comes. My parents, my husband, our friends, they wanted so badly to right the wrong, but they didn't know how. None of us do. We just have to be there for each other, and pray that time will help in the healing.
It was really hard for me to see pregnant women and babies. It still is, actually. It is a visual reminder of what I once had, but lost. I remember sitting in a meeting at work, then having to rush out in tears after sitting across from a pregnant woman for 2 hours. I couldn't bear it. I get a pang every time I log onto Facebook and see yet another status update announcing a pregnancy or photo uploads of pregnancy progress. I get so conflicted, because though I am happy for them, I cannot help but feel sad for us. I still feel, at times, that I failed. Irrational it may be, these are my feelings and I own them.
Frenchie, one of my very best friends, and I were due on the same day in December. After my miscarriage, I was so afraid that I would scare her, or that I would feel differently towards her. I don't. If anything, I am more protective of her. I hope she does not look at me differently. I hope she is not afraid. I am so sorry that our loss will mar her pregnancy in that she will always know that we had begun our journey together. I am sorry that I am not carrying a twin-friend for her little girl. I am so thankful that despite my miscarriage, we still have something and someone to be excited about. I was so, so scared that I wouldn't be able to even look at Frenchie. That our friendship would change somehow. But I realized that I love her so much, and Marlon, and Brooklyn, that I could not help but have joy in my heart for them. I am so happy that "we" are having a baby. And when I look at my beautiful friend, I see her and what a wonderful gift it is to have her in my life, not the pain of my loss. When we are together, these days, I hardly even connect the two. I know now that it just wasn't our time.
I feared, and at times still fear, that something will happen to us again. But I can't live my life consumed by that fear. I have faith that whatever happens in our future, is meant to be. Theo and I will have our family, one day, when the time is right. God does know what is best for us. It has taken me a long time to get to this point, but now that I am here, I am a firm believer. I am so, so very blessed. And I trust God.
I hope people read this and take something away from it. Every week, without fail, someone comes to me and asks when I am going to have a baby, when my husband and I plan on starting a family. People do that to women of a certain age. Like, if you make it to 29 without a kid, you are a dried up hag. People do this to single women who are in long-term relationships, "when ya'll gonna get married?" I cannot believe that people think these are questins that are okay to ask another. The question is almost an attack on the recipient, like something is wrong with them since they don't have a child or a husband. Seriously, the question isn't appropriate, and isn't one that is always easy to answer. And now, it sucks even more because when people ask me why, after 3.5 years of marriage, my husband and I are childless, it is heartbreaking on my end to have to tell them, obviously a stranger because if they were a friend of mine, they would already know. Not that it is any of their business, but my answer to "when are you going to get pregnant" is now, "well, I was pregnant, but then I miscarried," and I say it with an implied, "See, now we are both uncomfortable because of your rude and intrusive question, thanks, you jackhole." But instead of getting the point, people like to go on and on about, "Well, when you try again, it will happen soooo fast," and "oh, that happened to so and so and they got pregant two months later,"or "now, you will have twins," and my personal favorite "well, you need to go ahead and try again before it is too late." Nice. People really do suck sometimes.
So what is the point of all of this? Honestly, I don't know. Basically, just putting it out there. This is supposed to be about our lives, and so here it is. Listen, my story isn't anything extraordinary. A lot of women miscarry. The ER doctor said that 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage. It's funny, until it happens to you, you never really notice how much something happens. How common something may be. Well, it wasn't 'common' to me, no matter how many people it may happen to, every day. It wasn't anything that I could have prevented. I know that, and it is scary because of the fact that there really was nothing I could do. But, I count my blessings every day, especially when things get tough and I find myself feeling a little down. God is awesome and has a plan for all of us. Still, I wish things like this didn't happen to anyone. That miscarriages didn't occur. But they do. I know. It happened to us.
I had a miscarriage.
It may not seem like anything to you, the person reading this, it may be common occurance, but for me...
I hope that this helps me, and if not me, maybe someone else, some random Googler who is going through the same thing, to heal. To know that it is not easy,that your feelings are valid, that something isn't wrong with you and it isn't your fault that this happened.
It happened on a Friday afternoon. I was with my mentee/little sister and I just didn't feel right, so I took her home, called my brother and at his suggestion, stopped at the Exxon to use the restroom. I remember pink streaks on the tissue, not blood, and despite all of the books saying that this was normal, I knew something just wasn't right. So, I drove myself straight to the Brookwood emergency room, frantically trying to reach Theo on his cell. I remember every second of that night. My former stylist Anita being in the emergency room with her daughter, trying to get me to calm down and requesting immediate assistance. Theo and Marlon rushing in. Screaming in the hospital restroom. Kandis, Frenchie and Jessi holding my hand. Theo's face. Drinking lots of water so that they could do an ultrasound. Pain on the right side of my body. My parents and G driving in from Florence in record-time. Theo's face. Waiting for a doctor to tell me something I already knew. Theo holding my hand, telling me no matter what happened, everything would be ok, that we would be ok.
She said it so matter of factly, the doctor. I just remember Theo's face. My husband, struggling to keep it together. It is so hard for me to write this, tears streaming down my face even now. I keep flashing back to the first part of that day, that beautiful Friday after that awful storm had ravaged our city. You know how calm it gets after a storm? And how it seems so...wrong for the sun to shine so brightly and the wind to blow and flowers to still bloom? Just a few days earlier than that Friday, tornadoes had come through and completely destroyed entire neighborhoods. But that day, that Friday, my world had started out beautifully.
My friend David, who is also our realtor, Allison and I had gone house-hunting and found, what we had thought, was THE one. It was beautiful and big and had absolutely everything Theo and I had been looking for. I remember dancing in the foyer, picking out which room would be the baby's, talking about painting the kitchen with Allison, my very own drill sergeant/Martha Stewart, and deciding that the backyard would definitely be big enough for a swingset. We arranged for Theo and I to have another showing that Sunday, so he could see it, love it, then we could make an official offer.
That was just 3 hours earlier.
I hated having to look at Theo, my family and our friends. But, I loved them so much for being there. When we walked out of the ER doors, the waiting room was filled with people. Filled. But instead of the seats being occupied by sick and/or hurt people, they were reserved for our friends and family. People who had left work, ended their date nights early, driven from afar, done whatever it took to be there with us, with me, when I couldn't be there for myself. I felt like a failure. I didn't care what anyone said, doctors, friends, websites, whatever. I didn't care. I felt as if body couldn't do what it was supposed to do, when it was supposed to do it. I know now that it DID, but it still doesn't hurt any less.
People say, "Oh, it just wasn't the right time," and "Something must have been wrong," and "God knows best," like it is just supposed to be better because they say these things. Like you should just say, "Okay, you're right, let's go home!" and all is right in your world. Guess what? It's not.
Despite people's best efforts to make me feel better, I had never felt more alone. Damaged. I learned that others have a inate need for a person to seem 'better' as quickly as possible. I had only been pregnant for a short time, after all. Wasn't it better that I find out now instead of later, when I had gotten attached? People didn't seem to realize that I was attached. I know 6 weeks isn't 6 months, but it is long enough to get excited about something. To look forward to something. To really have joy. I remember that being pregnant made me look at myself differently. I remember feeling different. Beautiful. Strong. I loved that feeling. I loved the excitement on my husband's face. I loved the pride in my mother's voice. I remember being so afraid that I would somehow mess it all up. Terrified that something would go wrong. And then, it did. I felt guilty. I felt like a failure. I felt like I had nothing to look forward to anymore. And no one could understand. I was just supposed to be 'better'.
The doctor prescribed painkillers that I really wasn't too interested in taking. I wasn't a very good patient. Instead of taking the meds as prescribed, I would wait and take the pills once the pain became unbearable. And then, like a child, I would fight the sleep that would attempt to come as a side-effect. I think I still have 1/2 a bottle of them left in our medicine cabinet. I just wasn't that interested in being doped up as a means of coping. The pain in my abdomen was minimal compared to the pain I suffered emotionally. I took the meds for about 2 days.
Those days, that week after the miscarriage, I learned so much about myself, about others, about life. I looked to my husband, who surprised me in how well he handled himself and the situation, and how he wanted so badly, needed me to be myself again. He did things without my asking, without my knowledge, things I never would have thought of, but was so glad that he had. When my pregnancy was confirmed, I had gone to the library and checked out as many books on the subject as possible. I had magazines and brochures from the Dr. Roberts, pregnancy cookbooks strewn all over our apartment. On Saturday afternoon, when I finally woke, I realized that our home was spotless and completely void of anything having to do with pregnancy. Theo had taken all of the books back to the library, and later I found all of the magazines and brochures packed away in a box, deep inside of our walk-in closet. The pregnancy test that he had squealed over, then the second that he had needed me to take "just to be sure", that he had labeled with the date, were sealed away in a plastic bag, in the box as well. Finding those things, over a month later, my heart ached for this man, my husband, who had hidden his hurt so well so that I could rely on his strength. I love him.
I also learned that on that Saturday, while I slept, he had my Jeep fitted with all new tires and brakes, things that I had barely noticed I needed, but he knew all along. Breakfast was waiting for me, though it was aleady past noon, all of the things I loved, exactly how I liked them, from the IHOP down the street. And though he wasn't home when I got out of bed that day, he had only recently left, and shortly thereafter there was a light knock on the door, then a key in the lock, and a friend he had called (and given a key to), came in to give me a warm hug. We watched The Joneses and The Joy Luck Club, Krystle and I. Not talking about anything, deliberately avoiding a subject I just wasn't ready to talk about. I loved her for just being there, my friend.
By Sunday, Theo desperately needed me to smile. He wanted me to just get past it, to get on with our lives. "I want my wife back," he said as we stood on our porch, leaning over the stair railings. Didn't he realize I wanted the same thing? But, I simply couldn't imagine that things could ever be the same. That I could smile again instead of wanting to cry. How would he expect me to be back to the way I was, so soon? Could I ever be? I wanted to be happy again, to be the old me. The me that smiled and laughed and maked lame jokes. I was so afraid that 'she' was lost to me forever. Kandis came over that day. I remember her call came while I was at the grocery store. I had needed to get out of the house, so I tried to do something that was 'normal' to me. The gym was out. Work was out. So, to the store I went. I cried in Publix that day. All I could remember thinking was, "I lost my baby." Except nobody thought it was a baby, it seemed, but me. Kandis called right before I completely lost it, standing in front of the aisle with all the baby things. It was if, she knew that very second that I needed her. She asked if I wanted some company. A part of me almost said no, because I didn't want to have to pretend to be 'better'. But the other part of me realized how selfless it was for someone to offer to be with you when you are at your lowest. Kandis is like that. Selfless. Kind. She made cookies that day. I think we ate the entire pan. And she painted my toenails. And she hugged me something fierce when I broke down. She told me all the things I had heard from nurses and the doctor, but when she said it, I really wanted to believe her. That it wasn't my fault. That it was because my body knew something was wrong. That God knows what is best and was looking out for us. That is was better that it happened then instead of much later. I wanted so badly to believe her. More than anyone and anything else, I clung to what she said. And even though I didn't believe her then, I wanted to try.
I had a doctor's appointment the next day. I had been scheduled to come that day anyway. Cruel fate. Initially, that had been the date of my check-up and blood work. My parents came back to Birmingham so that my mother could be with me when my doctor confirmed what another had already told me. The nurse, my favorite nurse, LaLa, cried with me and my mother.And Dr. Roberts assured me that everything looked ok, that just because this happened doesn't mean anything, and that there is nothing that can be done to ensure that it doesn't happen again, so stop worrying about that I cannot control. Theo urged me to go back to Florence with my parents for the week since he was going to have to leave for Columbus that night. And so, I allowed my parents the chance to take care of me. And I saw my mother experience the same helplessness I felt, in that she ached for me not to have to go through what I was going through, but there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
I realized that no one really knows what to do in life. All of us are just going through, our first time and last time here on Earth, living life the way we hope God wants us to. We just handle things the best that we can when the time comes. My parents, my husband, our friends, they wanted so badly to right the wrong, but they didn't know how. None of us do. We just have to be there for each other, and pray that time will help in the healing.
It was really hard for me to see pregnant women and babies. It still is, actually. It is a visual reminder of what I once had, but lost. I remember sitting in a meeting at work, then having to rush out in tears after sitting across from a pregnant woman for 2 hours. I couldn't bear it. I get a pang every time I log onto Facebook and see yet another status update announcing a pregnancy or photo uploads of pregnancy progress. I get so conflicted, because though I am happy for them, I cannot help but feel sad for us. I still feel, at times, that I failed. Irrational it may be, these are my feelings and I own them.
Frenchie, one of my very best friends, and I were due on the same day in December. After my miscarriage, I was so afraid that I would scare her, or that I would feel differently towards her. I don't. If anything, I am more protective of her. I hope she does not look at me differently. I hope she is not afraid. I am so sorry that our loss will mar her pregnancy in that she will always know that we had begun our journey together. I am sorry that I am not carrying a twin-friend for her little girl. I am so thankful that despite my miscarriage, we still have something and someone to be excited about. I was so, so scared that I wouldn't be able to even look at Frenchie. That our friendship would change somehow. But I realized that I love her so much, and Marlon, and Brooklyn, that I could not help but have joy in my heart for them. I am so happy that "we" are having a baby. And when I look at my beautiful friend, I see her and what a wonderful gift it is to have her in my life, not the pain of my loss. When we are together, these days, I hardly even connect the two. I know now that it just wasn't our time.
I feared, and at times still fear, that something will happen to us again. But I can't live my life consumed by that fear. I have faith that whatever happens in our future, is meant to be. Theo and I will have our family, one day, when the time is right. God does know what is best for us. It has taken me a long time to get to this point, but now that I am here, I am a firm believer. I am so, so very blessed. And I trust God.
I hope people read this and take something away from it. Every week, without fail, someone comes to me and asks when I am going to have a baby, when my husband and I plan on starting a family. People do that to women of a certain age. Like, if you make it to 29 without a kid, you are a dried up hag. People do this to single women who are in long-term relationships, "when ya'll gonna get married?" I cannot believe that people think these are questins that are okay to ask another. The question is almost an attack on the recipient, like something is wrong with them since they don't have a child or a husband. Seriously, the question isn't appropriate, and isn't one that is always easy to answer. And now, it sucks even more because when people ask me why, after 3.5 years of marriage, my husband and I are childless, it is heartbreaking on my end to have to tell them, obviously a stranger because if they were a friend of mine, they would already know. Not that it is any of their business, but my answer to "when are you going to get pregnant" is now, "well, I was pregnant, but then I miscarried," and I say it with an implied, "See, now we are both uncomfortable because of your rude and intrusive question, thanks, you jackhole." But instead of getting the point, people like to go on and on about, "Well, when you try again, it will happen soooo fast," and "oh, that happened to so and so and they got pregant two months later,"or "now, you will have twins," and my personal favorite "well, you need to go ahead and try again before it is too late." Nice. People really do suck sometimes.
So what is the point of all of this? Honestly, I don't know. Basically, just putting it out there. This is supposed to be about our lives, and so here it is. Listen, my story isn't anything extraordinary. A lot of women miscarry. The ER doctor said that 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage. It's funny, until it happens to you, you never really notice how much something happens. How common something may be. Well, it wasn't 'common' to me, no matter how many people it may happen to, every day. It wasn't anything that I could have prevented. I know that, and it is scary because of the fact that there really was nothing I could do. But, I count my blessings every day, especially when things get tough and I find myself feeling a little down. God is awesome and has a plan for all of us. Still, I wish things like this didn't happen to anyone. That miscarriages didn't occur. But they do. I know. It happened to us.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I'm Back. For Real, For Real
No, really.
It's been a while, but I can honestly say that I hadn't forgotten about my space here. This space, that no one really knows about but me. It is both a blessing and a curse, I would say, that this blog can serve as my little online journal, where I can express my inner-most thoughts and feelings. However, the problem is that, since no one reads this thing, I really don't have any accountability. At all.
I was talking to my friend Marlon last week and told him about my blog. The secret is now out. I need to get serious about this, if it is something I plan to continue.
I had some rough months, but now I am back. Hopefully on a more consistent basis. We'll see what happens.
It's been a while, but I can honestly say that I hadn't forgotten about my space here. This space, that no one really knows about but me. It is both a blessing and a curse, I would say, that this blog can serve as my little online journal, where I can express my inner-most thoughts and feelings. However, the problem is that, since no one reads this thing, I really don't have any accountability. At all.
I was talking to my friend Marlon last week and told him about my blog. The secret is now out. I need to get serious about this, if it is something I plan to continue.
I had some rough months, but now I am back. Hopefully on a more consistent basis. We'll see what happens.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Population +1 (or 2?)
McCrazytown is about to get a new resident. Currently growing inside of me is Mr. Mc's implanted seed. Isn't that THE most disgusting way of saying you are pregnant? YUCK. Luckily, that is not the way we presented the news to our parents. :)
I am currently about 6 weeks along and to be honest, a little bit on the terrified side. Everything I think, feel, or do for the last week or so has been consumed by the thoughts of this little life. I am so afraid that I am going to mess it up somehow. I've been praying for him/her, so hopefully things are going pretty good in there. I'm still nervous, though. We have about 6 more weeks before we are on the other side of the risky/scary woods of the first trimester.
I am currently about 6 weeks along and to be honest, a little bit on the terrified side. Everything I think, feel, or do for the last week or so has been consumed by the thoughts of this little life. I am so afraid that I am going to mess it up somehow. I've been praying for him/her, so hopefully things are going pretty good in there. I'm still nervous, though. We have about 6 more weeks before we are on the other side of the risky/scary woods of the first trimester.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
You Can't Catch Me
Ok, so you probably could. Amanda and I have been running on Tuesdays and Thursdays-- today officially marked the beginning of week 3. We mix it up a bit, going to Star Lake some mornings and hitting up the Rivi on others. The Rivi is good for distance running - we actually both have found that we run faster and farther when we hit the treadmill; Star Lake is good for getting some fresh air and getting the lungs working. Still working on that mouth-breathing thing. Sexxxxxy. We did about 2.5 miles this morning, which may not seem like a lot to some of youse runners, but for me, that's no small feat. I am going to make my milestones small (not sure what Amanda decides), so I am going to make my next goal 3 miles. Ugh. I cannot WAIT for the day when I am pounding pavement like Forrest Gump and can truthfully say, "I just felt like running." Yeah, I have NEVER had that feeling come over me. Here's hoping it hits soon.
Shout out to AP -- she's a good lil' running buddy if I might say so myself. It's much easier to roll out of bed in the morning while it is still dark outside when you know someone is waiting on you.
In related news, I have a WL goal of -8lbs.
Here's to the journey!
Time: 34 minutes
Distance: 2.65
High Speed: 5.5
Weight Tracker: 0
Shout out to AP -- she's a good lil' running buddy if I might say so myself. It's much easier to roll out of bed in the morning while it is still dark outside when you know someone is waiting on you.
In related news, I have a WL goal of -8lbs.
Here's to the journey!
Time: 34 minutes
Distance: 2.65
High Speed: 5.5
Weight Tracker: 0
Thursday, January 27, 2011
It's Been a Looooong Time Coming
Dang, I actually had forgotten about my blog until today. Crazy, I know. I think that is what happens with old age. I can also say that in re-reading my previous posts I kept having weird WTF moments like, "WHO was I referring to?" Dude, nicknames are going to be eliminated going forward. I just can't deal with that there.
I am going to have to make some changes should I continue this blog going forward, however I am pretttttttty sure that will go over just fine simply because I have no followers. No one knows this blog even exists, with the exception of ME. I am grateful and yet sad/embarassed all at the same time. However, I will continue on with the plan of logging my thoughts, hopes, dreams or general observations. Because, eh, why the hell not?
Jaz is bizzack. Bigger, better and blacker than ever.
I am going to have to make some changes should I continue this blog going forward, however I am pretttttttty sure that will go over just fine simply because I have no followers. No one knows this blog even exists, with the exception of ME. I am grateful and yet sad/embarassed all at the same time. However, I will continue on with the plan of logging my thoughts, hopes, dreams or general observations. Because, eh, why the hell not?
Jaz is bizzack. Bigger, better and blacker than ever.
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