Family Vacation Part 2- Faith and Family

I debated on writing this blog because it is not my usual light-hearted story, but I decided to tell you this story as part of my testimony.  Some people have asked why I would put all of my business on the internet.  For those of you who know me, you know that I live my life as an open book.  I may not be proud of all the things I have done, but I do own my mistakes because I have learned from them.  I don't believe I would be the person I am today without my past, good and bad, so here's my story.

To give you a little background, when I was pregnant with Jake, I was in a court battle with my ex-husband.  My oldest son chose to go and live with his dad and the court decided to give my ex-husband custody of both of my sons so they could stay together.  I had never been away from my children for more than a couple of days, so to say that my world imploded was an understatement.  I began having panic attacks and it was a chore to even get out of bed.  My middle son, Ben, was only 8 at the time, and would cry and beg to stay with me longer when he was at my house.  Every day was torture.  I turned my back on God and refused to go to church.  I could not understand why God would do this to me.  I had made big mistakes in my past, but for years I had been the good Christian I thought I needed to be, so why did He punish me by taking my children away?   I hated living.  I hated God.  I hated everything except my little miracle baby I carried in my womb.  But for my baby, I can't honestly say I would be here today.  I was so far in the darkness, I could not find the light.

One Sunday, Grant came in my room and forced me out of the bed and told me to get ready for church.  I cried, I begged, and I cursed him for making me go back there.  I hated God.  I hated church.  I never wanted to go back but he loaded me in the car anyway and off we went.  I sat in the pew crying and steaming mad as the pastor walked to the front.  He said that he had planned a sermon but he felt that he needed to show us this video instead.  The lights went off and a man appeared on the screen.  The man offered his testimony by sharing a story about his child.  They were a close, loving, Christian family at one time, but his daughter got caught up in the world and turned her back on him.  No matter what he did she was lost to them and to God.  He began using words that I thought only I used when talking about my relationship with God and my situation with my children- hate, shame, hurt, hopelessness, failure, confusion- As the words seeped into my brain and heart, my eyes went up to the screen.  This man was talking to me!  As his story went on, he shared that after having those feelings, he turned back to God and started praying for his daughter again.  He renewed his faith that God was in control and placed the fate of his family in His hands.  Lo and behold, it worked!  Years later, his daughter came back to him.  It was the prodigal son all over again.

By this time, tears poured down my cheeks.  God had sent this message for me.  God was trying to tell me that if I would trust in Him, He would make everything ok, but that it would be in His time and not mine.  I knew as surely as I knew my own name that God was slapping me upside my head and saying, "Get over it.  Pick yourself up and get on with your life and I will take care of the rest."  My heart felt warmed for the first time in weeks.  My soul felt light.  Grant, my mom, and I hit our knees and prayed right then and there for God to take over for us and in return, we would be faithful to Him and not question His plan.  Until that moment, I thought I was a Christian but I wasn't.  I had more faith in myself than I did in Him, but I tell you this, when all seems lost and you can't do anything else, THAT'S when true faith begins.  For me, it was like flipping a switch at that very moment.  I got up off my knees knowing God was in control.

Long story short, my oldest saw that the grass wasn't greener on the other side and came back a year later permanently.  My middle son visited back and forth until he was 15.  At 15 he refused to come back to my house and for 3 years, I rarely got to talk to him or see him.  Every birthday, holiday, etc. I would text him to no avail.  I'm not going to lie and say I didn't have my moments of breakdowns.  Some days were torture, but I never lost faith that God had a plan and that his plan was better than my plan every could be, and so I waited, and texted, and mailed cards for three years.  If your faith has never been tested, please hear this- God knows your heart.  Remain faithful even when you don't want to, even when you think it's a waste of time, even when everyone around you thinks you are crazy, remain faithful.  On Ben's 18th birthday, I sent him a text (he wouldn't usually answer my calls) wishing him a happy birthday.  To my surprise, he sent back and asked me to come out to his school and see him!  I had only seen him a few times over the last 3 years, so this seemed to be the miracle I had been praying for.  My mom, Jake, and I went and spent a few hours with him and it was probably the happiest moment I had with him since he was born.  I thought that the storm had passed and we were back on track, but that wasn't what happened.  For months after that, I rarely got a text and he never came around.  The old me would have freaked, but the new me knew just to stay the course because this was in God's time and not mine.

Now back to the vacation.  While we were in Jackson playing baseball, I sent Ben a picture of Jake as hind catcher.  That was Ben's position on his team and I wanted to show him his brother growing up in his footsteps.  I then sent him a text like I had hundreds of times before.  It simply read 'We are heading to PCB for vacation.  Wish you could come.'  I never expected the response I got, 'When are you going and I'll see if I can get off work."  Huh?  Did I read that right?  I read and reread, but the words didn't change.  I sent him the details still not believing that he would go.  The night before the rest of my family left Saltillo to meet us in PCB, he sent me a message, 'I got off, guess I'm going'  Seriously? Is this going to happen?  I called my brother and mother and told them they would have an extra passenger.  They were as skeptical as I was, but we all fixed our eyes on the faint light at the end of the tunnel and waited.

I didn't text my mom until around lunch the next day.  I was both excited and afraid to know if he actually came on the trip.  But when I received the text 'We have him' my heart exploded! My baby boy (That's still what I call him because he was my baby for 9 years before Jake.) was going on a 5 day vacation with me!!!  It was like old times, no awkward moments, no tension, just Benji and the family that missed him for what felt like a lifetime.

I don't know what the future holds for us, but through faith and prayer, I have those days with my child that I will hold close to my heart for the rest of my life.  If it is God's will, this was the first of many good times to come, but if not, I will remain faithful in my Christian walk and share my story of becoming a TRUE Christian after years of being a Christian as long as God did what I wanted him to do.

Look out Griswolds, Here Come the Prathers/Washingtons/Hopkins/Grays/Evans Family Vacation (AKA the mine, yours, and ours dysfunction junction formally known as a modern family) - Part 1

I finally made it home from vacation.  I know you missed me, but it was well worth the wait because a vacation with the family is a sure fire way to get plenty to blog about.  As usual, we had to squeeze our vacation between the kids' activities.  Jake had a tournament in Jackson, so we hung out there for a few days before heading down to Panama City for a few days and then speeding home for AC to head out on a church trip.  As usual, the fun started before we left.  I was still awake at 2 a.m. putting a vacation message on the office answering machine, gathering up bills to pay while I was on vacation, and trying to pack for 3 activities at once.  Somehow we got 2 beach umbrellas, an easy up tent, 3 chairs, AC's entire wardrobe, a laundry hamper full of beach towels, 2 coolers, every electronic gadget known to man, and a handful of clothes for the rest of us in my little SUV and headed out at 7 a.m.  We made it to Jackson a couple of hours before Jake's first game.  He got to change into his uniform in the car while we unpacked the entire car to get the chairs and tent out (mistake number one- packed things needed first first so we had to unpack everything else to get that stuff out).

After the game, we unpacked and repacked the car again (found out the reverse of first first wouldn't fit) and headed to our hotel.  We piled everything on the wheelie thing that carries the luggage and it promptly slid off between door number one and door number two in the lobby.  Grant threw a couple of bags back on the cart and walked on as if it never happened while I tried to grab another cart, dodge the automatic door, and guard the rest of the luggage.  Luggage piled high, I headed for the elevator.  I've never pulled a luggage thing before, so I shoved, pulled, and manhandled it all the way to the elevator door where my family patiently waited as if they had no idea who I was or why I was following them.  Grant took one look at me and informed me that I needed to turn the cart around the way it was supposed to go and then I wouldn't have to fight it.  (Thanks for the tip after the fact, dear.)   We finally made it to our room and set up camp.

I always find it strange to stay in a hotel with my family.  You would think that people who have lived together forever would know each others' quirks and habits, but until you share a single room and bathroom, you really have no clue.  Grant is the homesteader.  The second he enters the room, he unpacks everything and places it in the exact place it would be if he lived there.  I am the vagabond.  My things never touch a single surface in the room.  I live out of my suitcase and the thought of putting my clothes in a drawer never occurred to me until I married Grant.  I thought the dresser was just a place to put a tv and not to put my clothes.  AC is the loner.  She is appalled that she has to share air, must less a bed and toilet, with anyone, and takes every opportunity to tell you so.  When it's her bedtime, it's everyone's bedtime, and woe be unto anyone that moves after she has put her head on the pillow.  Jake is the tornado.  He explodes into the room with clothes, shoes, and toys flying in every direction.  He never can knows what is clean or dirty and loses a shoe at least twice a day.

After 3 days, we packed up to head toward Florida.  The plan was to stop in Mobile overnight, sleep late, and finish the drive the next day.  Grant called a company he uses for travel arrangements from the car to book a room.  We pulled up to the hotel in Mobile and the first thing I saw was what looked like a prostitute (Grant said not to assume, but a lady wearing short shorts, a tank top, and heels while strolling back and forth in front of the hotel is either for rent or for free but she ain't there for sleep).  My caution light in my head went off that MAYBE this wasn't the hotel for us, but it was 10:00 at night so we checked in.  The room was just what I should've expected based on the clientele.  As soon as I opened the door, I saw a burger wrapper on the dresser.  Upon further inspection, I found used soap and towels in the bathroom and the air conditioner didn't work.  Jake took one look and refused to touch anything.  He stood like a statue in the middle of the room while I had a germophobic breakdown and started bathing in sanitizer.  We gathered up all our bags, repacked the car (for the umpteenth time) and began looking for another room in the Mobile area.  I literally pulled up a hotel list and called the entire list to no avail.  We finally found a hotel in Pensacola an hour later.  Yet again, we unpacked the car, dropped our bags at the door, and crashed at an Econo Lodge at 1:00 a.m.  The next day, we repacked the car and finished the drive to sunny Panama City. Oh, Lord, was I excited to see sand and water.

That's all for today.  Grant's making me get back to my job that actually makes money, so check in with me tomorrow for, as Paul Harvey said, "the rest of the story."

Don't Judge Until You've Put Your Butt in Another Man's Underwear

In honor of Father's Day, I would like to introduce you to my Daddy, Petey.  Many of you know him, but for those of you who don't, you are in for a treat.  I've always been a Daddy's girl. I fondly remember my parents getting into a argument and Mama loading up my brother to go to my Grandmother's house.  It's a fond memory because at that age, I didn't understand that my parents were feuding, I just knew it meant making a run to the Hub Grocery for sardines, rag bologna, hoop cheese, and crackers.  Daddy and I would sit on the couch eating and watching "Beretta" until my Mama cooled down and came home.  I remember Daddy coming home half lit, Mama yelling, and Daddy grinning and dancing to make Mama laugh.  I remember going hunting and fishing and shoplifting gum at Downs Grocery when I was 5 (and having to confess to James, the owner, which affected me so much to this day, I have never taken ANYTHING again).  I remember so much about my childhood with my Daddy, and all of it was great.  My parents divorced when I was a teenager, but, unlike most kids of divorce, I don't remember the 'bad' as bad, just different from 'the usual'.

When Mama and Daddy were married, Mama was successful with suppressing  a lot of Daddy's 'quirks', but without her to keep him in check, his 'quirks' became 'eccentricities.' (trying to come up with words that mean crazy, embarrassing tendencies but doesn't sound as bad).  The first time I knew I was in for an experience, Daddy got a bit tipsy and decided to call his cousin, but he didn't know her number.  He got on the phone with the operator and said, "I need the number for MaryAnn in Houston."  When the operator told him she needed a last name, Daddy replied, "She used to be a Hopkins, but I don't know her name now.  Just give me the numbers for all MaryAnns in Houston."  From then on, I unplugged the phone when Daddy got an urge to call somebody.  In just a couple of years, both Daddy and I remarried and without me there to make him behave, he went into overdrive, but in a WHOLE different way.  He started trying to save money.  Now, he had aways been a cheapskate, but his second wife allowed him to spiral down into the depths of cheapness.  He would make a pot of coffee on Monday and reheat it every morning for a week.  He started buying his clothes at yard sales.  He started ordering water instead of tea at a restaurant and filling up his own cup in the bathroom of convenience stores to keep from buying a drink.  But, the cherry on top came when he started…for the people with a weak stomach, just skip this part……dumpster diving.  He would go to the store on the day they threw out groceries that expired or wilted and dig them out to take home.  He even got dead plants out to landscape his yard.  It was so bad, Grant refused to eat when we went to Daddy's house because he was afraid it came out of the dumpster.  If Daddy had been poor, I would've understood, but he was, if anything, comfortably middle class, to say the least.  To him, it was fun and a challenge to see just how much he could save.

As the commercials say, "But, wait, there's more!"  His 'eccentricities' have evolved over the years.  He does the extreme couponing now.  He even has a contest going with a friend each year to see who saves the most each year.  Daddy buys stuff he doesn't even want just to beat his buddy at the end of the year.  When cigarettes went over $3, he started rolling his own.  Not rolling papers and a little tobacco, but an actual machine and a bag of tobacco that looks like mulch. For holidays, we actually give him a real pack of cigs that he saves to take to the cafe so they will think he's "high dollar."  My aunt wraps up her husband's hand me downs and Daddy LOVES them.  If I buy him new clothes or shoes, I have to remove the tags and scuff the soles or he will return them, and he's still depressed that I spent money on new clothes when I could've gotten it at a yard sale for a quarter.  Need more evidence that he's eccentric?  He gets extra salt and ketchup at restaurants and FILLS UP BOTTLES AT HOME with them.  That's his Sunday afternoon activity for fun.  I could tell you these money saving tips by Petey all day long because, trust me, even I can't believe the lengths he will go to save a nickel (literally lengths, he has a specific amount of toilet paper to use and not a square more, no sense wasting 4 inches of paper).

Though Daddy has gotten penny pinching down to a science, when it comes to electronics, let's just say, his ingenuity doesn't carry over into other fields.  He has a DVD player that he has never played a DVD in because he doesn't know how.  He has a cell phone, but doesn't know how to text or check his messages.  He sent me his first text for my birthday.  It said, "Hapqy Brthcdx." (He doesn't know how to change from the first letter to the next letter yet, but at least he's trying.)  When I texted him back, he had to call me to tell him what it said because he can only read what pops up on the screen and when it goes away, he can't find it again.  When I wrote the blog about getting caught at Grant's house by the police, somebody asked why I just addressed my Mama and not my Daddy, and I laughed out loud.  My daddy still thinks a 'mouse pad'  is what a girl mouse needs to wear a week out of the month if she hasn't been through menopause.  I could put porn, bomb blue prints, or a recipe for ricin on his computer and he would be one of those people on TV that says, "I didn't know I was living with a psycho until the FBI showed up at my door," and everybody watching the story yells at the tv because there's no way he didn't know.  Yep, that's my Daddy.

Through the good and the bad, he's the greatest.  I know that he would be there for me no matter what, where, or when.  He might bring his own glass of water or can of viennas so he won't have to spend a dollar while he's there, and, more than likely, he will have on clothes that some other guy had on a week ago that cost Daddy a quarter, but he will be there, nonetheless.

Chubby Chasers and Big Fluffy Females: This One Is For You

We are going on a family vacation in a few weeks.  Unfortunately, this year we are going to the beach.  Don't get me wrong, I love the beach like a fat kid loves cake, but going to the beach means wearing a bathing suit…in public….surrounded by scores of toned, bronzed, beach bunnies that make me look like an albino sea lion that washed up on shore.  I came up with several plans to alleviate some of my self loathing, but at this point, I know I'm doomed.

Plan A was "Distraction."  I was going to invite people that looked FAR worse than I do so when strangers looked toward my group, their eyes would zoom in on the largest, whitest person in the group and I would kind of blend into the background.  Unfortunately, Grant was the biggest, palest person I could come up with, and, though he is both pale and big, he does not have the 'ewwww' factor needed to draw attention away from the other big whities in the group, so Plan A was aborted.

Plan B was "Camouflage."  Plan B meant bathing suit shopping.  I'd rather get a gynecological exam simultaneously with a root canal than to shop for a bathing suit, but, like all things torturous, it must be done.  I opted to order online from a company that allows easy returns so I could do all my crying and self-loathing at home in the privacy of my own bedroom and not in the dressing room at the store (which ALWAYS results in me in a heap on the floor and the sales lady bringing me tissues and calling security to get me out of the dressing room.)  My stomach knotted up when I saw the UPS driver pull into the driveway, but I forged ahead.  Bathing suit 1 was kind of an animal print with ruching and a tiny ruffle around the hem of the top and a sold black skirt.  The description on the website said the print would camouflage, the ruching would hide rolls (or some politically correct word for rolls), the ruffle would help make my not there anymore tush look rounder, and the skirt would hide my little flap of skin that rubs together if I walk too much.  Well. let me tell you, when I put this pig in that tutu, it was LOL hilarious.  I looked like a bumble bee minus the stinger- moving on….Number 2 was gathered on the sides for extra belly room, same skirt, and a different pattern that promised to practically make me invisible on the beach.  WRONG!! Note to bathing suit manufacturers- pay attention to the placement of pattern on a fat lady suit.  One of the flower's center looked like a bulls eye directly pointing to my belly button.  I'm talking big sunflower thing right in the middle of my Buddha belly that screamed 'LOOK AT THIS BIG BELLY!!!!"- moving on….Number 3 was same skirt (I'm liking the skirts, no visible leg flap or belly shed line) with a top with an A line for extra room for the belly.  Well, it did give me belly room, but because my belly actually used the room, the top rode up in the front so I looked like the fat kid in a shirt a size too small-  Finally, Number 4 was same skirt and the top had ruching and a black and brown pattern.  When I got it on, from the front. it actually wasn't that bad.  From the side was another matter because at that angle I kind of resembled a killer whale, but I figured if I laid on a dark towel and never turned sideways, this was the only one that was even an option.  Plan B was a go.

I came up with a few other plans that I will try in case of emergency (like if Megan Fox pulls up a chair beside me).  I am taking several cover-ups and have some sunburn colored makeup to fake my way back indoors.  I think I may even pay Jake to pretend to drown if worse comes to worse.  Oh, well, it is what it is, and, though I keep hearing my own version of Chris Farley's "Fat Man in a Little Coat"  which goes more like "Fat Girl in a Little Suit,"  I figure after I drink a few cocktails and listen to the waves, in my mind Megan Fox won't have NOTHING on me!

Birthdays and Belly Rolls

On my birthday eve each year, I think of how my life has changed over the years.  I thought I'd share a few of the things that have been running through my mind when I think of Tra back in the day and Tra today.

1. Back in the day, summer meant finding a cute bikini, rubbing iodine and baby oil all over my body, and my biggest fear was peeling from the sunburn I usually got.  Today, summer means finding a bathing suit that doesn't make me look fat (like THAT has ever happened in the last couple of decades), rubbing sunscreen all over my body, covering my face with a hat so I get get even more wrinkles, protecting my hair so my color doesn't fade, and my biggest fear is finding a melanoma (but I'm more afraid of being pale, so I take the risk).
2. Back in the day, it took a couple of hours to get dolled up to go sit in the grocery store parking lot for a couple of hours.  Today, half the time, I don't even take the time to put on real shoes (house shoes will do), must less makeup, and hopefully a bra to go to the store to get milk and bread and pray nobody sees me.
3. Back in the day, I loved to work out and looking cute in my clothes was a bonus.  Now I hate working out, but when I can't button and breathe, it's my only choice, and not looking like the Michelin Man with a blue tint to my oxygen deprived body is a bonus.
4. Back in the day, the fun started at 9, and if I over indulged, I could pop a couple of Tylenol and grab a couple of hours sleep and I was good to go.  Today, I'm ready to go home at 9, and if I overindulge it takes me a couple of days to get over it (kind of feels like I was in a car wreck) and I gave up on Tylenol doing ANY good centuries ago.
5. Back in the day, I had NEVER had a discussion about fish oil, leafy greens, home remedies for aching joints, brands of probiotics, and had never even heard of triglycerides.  Today at least one of these topics comes up in conversation every single day.
6. Back in the day, I had just gotten a cell phone,  my computer was on a desk at home and I only used it for research papers, and if I wanted to watch a tv show, I had to build that time into my schedule.  Today, I never go from one room to another, must less from one destination to another, without my iPad and iPhone and get p.o.ed if my TIVO doesn't record my show for me to watch at midnight when I finally get down time.
7. Back in the day, I don't remember ever staring at my face and body in the mirror and thinking, "OMG!!! This is hideous."  Today, I look in the mirror and not only think, "OMG!!! This is hideous, but also, OMG!!! I have old lady skin, I look 5 months pregnant, my knees have skin overhang, my butt moved around to the front (hence, the pregnant look),  when did I get that line between my eyes, when did I start having to pick my boobs up to put them in my bra, what is that hanging under my chin…." Well, you get the point.
8. Back in the day, I would've went for a run, stopped eating carbs, and hated myself until I got myself back on track.  Today I just say, "Oh, well," turn my back on the mirror, put on a bigger shirt, and eat another donut.

Back in the day I looked great, felt great, and had my whole life ahead of me.  Today I don't look so great, don't feel so great, and half my life is gone, but I am older and wiser and more content within myself and with the world around me than I ever was back in the day, so bring on the birthdays.  So far, they've only made my life better.

If the cops have never come to arrest you while you are in your undies, you can't appreciate this blog.

Mama, I know you know the boys were conceived by immaculate conception, so put your hand over the next couple of lines and skip to the end.

The rest of you, if premarital stuff bothers you, skip this blog.

Now, I should be down to the little nasty folks like me that have a little tilt on their halo, so let me tell you about one of my most embarrassing moments in my entire life.

The first time I spent the night at Grant's house (there's the premarital part), before we went to sleep, he told me he had an early appointment, but he would be back before lunch, so I just could hang around the house until the got back.  Grant got up the next morning and went to work and I slept in.  When I got up to go to the bathroom a while later, I set off the MOTION ALARM!!!  This idiot that I loved up to this point had cut on his house alarm along with his motion detector.  The phone rang and it was the security company asking for the password.  I told them I didn't know, but I was calling the owner to tell me what it was.  I put them on hold and ran over to cut off the siren and call Grant.  About this time I hear a knock on the door.  I look through the window and see the freaking police!  I open the door in a t-shirt and undies (not matching even fyi) to see two uniformed cuties with huge smiles on their face.  To make it even worse, one of them was a former boyfriend of Grant's ex-wife, so he KNEW Grant and knew I wasn't his wife (I hope at least he knew she was an ex by then, but I didn't ask.)

I was trying to explain to them what happened when I remembered the security company on the phone.  I left the door and called Grant's cell phone on my cell phone as the security lady waited and the cops let themselves in to watch what happened next.  I got Grant on the phone and asked him the password, and he……wait for it……wait for it……he said, "Uhhhhh….." Now here I am half naked with two cops and a lady just itching to say, "Book her, Dan-O," and I yelled at him, "I'm standing here with two very amused cops in your shirt and a smile, so you better give me that damn password."  He reluctantly gave it up (we are freaking engaged and he later told me he was worried about giving me the password because if we didn't work out I could break in.  Yeah, like I would break in and steal your green plastic couch and egyptian gold table.  Sorry, I got off track)  But wait, the most embarrassing moment of my life hasn't happened yet.

I finally was finished with the security lady and was escorting the by now blushing cops to the door when……oh yeah, it's that bad……Grant's Granny pulled up!!!  The security company called her because she was his alternate contact person and she came to investigate.  Now, not only does the security company and the Tupelo P.D. know that I am THAT kind of girl, but also an 80 year old lady that doesn't like anybody and now HATED me for being THAT kind of girl at her grandson's house.  Well, the cops held up, again to see what happened next, while I explained, now on the front porch in my undies and a shirt, the whole story again.  Conveniently, Grant's appointment supposedly lasted a tad longer than expected, just about 30 minutes after everyone left.  Oh, boy, did we have a DISCUSSION!

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, was the most embarrassing moment of my life.

My husband knocked me out in the fourth round.

I wrote my blog quickly yesterday before a ball game, and realized when I read back over it that I left out a crucial part of my story.  The reason Grant was late for our date was because he went and actually  bought that outfit and wore it out of the store so he would look 'hip and trendy' for our date.  All these years later, that still cracks me up.  Moving on---

Grant and I have been HAPPILY married for 11 years.  The first year, not so much, and it was all my fault.  For those of you who have never been through a divorce, it's called the 'awww, heck naw, I let one man walk all over me and I'll be danged if I'll let another one' disease, and I was eat up with it.  The first time my disease flared up, I threw an empty tea pitcher at Grant.  Now, for those who don't know us, Grant is over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than me, so when I threw the pitcher, he laughed and laughed and said, "Look at my little bantam," (for all of you city folks that is a little chicken).  I didn't know what to do after that, so I just walked off. Round 1 went to Grant.

My next flare up, I decided I would go to my room and slam the door.  He walked in behind me.  I went to the bathroom and locked that door and the slide lock so he couldn't get in.  Sitting on my throne , I was feeling pretty smug when I heard a knock on the door.  Grant said, "Where's the screwdriver so I can take the door off the hinges?"  I KNOW this idiot is bluffing, so I wait him out.  Then I hear him hitting the screwdriver on the hinge and he said, "Uh oh, I'm scratching up the hinge bad, but oh well, I have to make you come out so we can talk."  I got so tickled I laughed out loud and he heard me.  Round 2 went to Grant.

Well, fighting and hiding hadn't worked so I resorted to leaving.  I piled the kids in the car and took off.  He called on my phone and when I finally answered he said, "Ok, I've never been in this situation before but I THINK when you leave, you're not supposed to take my kid too."  Yep, I forgot to only take my own kids.  Round 3 went to Grant.

Now that I had perfected my plan, the next time, I planned to run away while the kids weren't there.  I went for my keys and he snatched them before I could reach them.  Well, I wasn't losing this time, so I took off walking.  That jerk got in MY car and followed me all the way down the driveway and to the end of our subdivision.  I couldn't keep a straight face, so I had to go home.  This guy was wearing me down, but I still wasn't laying down for the count.

By this time, I had given up on fighting running, and hiding, so all I was left with was shunning.  I went to sleep on the couch.  He walked in the room with a pillow and blanket and laid down on the floor beside the couch.  I said, "What do you think you are doing?" He replied, "I didn't get married to sleep by myself, so I will sleep in here beside you until you go back to bed."  Aw, I knew I had this one.  I could wait out ANYBODY, just ask my parents.  Well, he tossed, and he turned, and he punched his pillow, and he moaned about the hard floor, it went on and on until, once again, I laughed.
This time, I went down for the count.

It took a solid year of laughter therapy before I got over my 'aww, heck naw' disease, but I've been in remission so long, I consider myself cured.  Grant can make me madder than anyone has ever made me in my entire life.  I imagine myself choking him until his little squinty eyes pop out and look like mine at LEAST once a day, but every time I imagine it, I chuckle a little to myself  and know I never will…..But a girl can dream….

I found my future husband holding a sign on the side of the road

Before I start telling stories of all my dirty little secrets (Don't get excited, they won't be Fifty Shades dirty), I wanted you to get to know my dys'fun'ctional family.

My husband's name is Grant.  I've known him since I was 5 years old.  Grant used to hide under the table and watch me practice dancing at his mother's dance studio.  In junior high, Grant was my boyfriend and took me to the fair.  I remember him holding my hand because his pinkies were crooked. He swears he kissed me, but other than the deformed pinkies, so either he has me mixed up with someone else (He said that's why he called all his women 'baby', to keep from calling them the wrong name) or there was nothing memorable for me at least.  As time went on, we went our separate ways, but always were friends but nothing more.

I'll skip all the gory details of my first marriage and pick up the story 10 years later.  I was going through a gut-wrenching divorce and was on my knees praying that God would give a a concrete sign that I was doing the right thing in getting a divorce.  In the middle of my prayer, the phone rang and it was my ex, drunk and cussing me like so many times before.  I got off my knees, dried my eyes, and said, "Thank you, Lord," and that was that.  

My niece called me the next day and asked me to go to her dance recital.  I had a date lined up for that night, but decided I would run by the recital for a minute before heading to Tupelo.  Well, I ran in and sat down next to my brother and sister-in-law, quickly looked around, and saw Grant sitting a few rows behind me watching his daughter dance.  My sister-in-law whispered and told me that she thought his wife had left him and I should give him my number.  Well, I thought about it the whole time I was there, and when I left I stopped by his seat and dropped the 'I'm single and ready to mingle' vibe on him.  He told me to call him sometime (like I would EVER call a boy first) and I gave him my number and said he could call me if he wanted to go out but I wouldn't call him.  I headed to meet my other date and didn't think about it again. 

Well, the other date was just a 'meet for drinks' and he was a joke, very cute and very smooth, but I was on a mission for a husband, so I wrote him off and thought of Grant again.  I had known him all my life, he would be the perfect 'break-in' date, after all, I had been with my ex 13 years, I needed to wade before I swam, so I decided when he called, I'd go out with him.  He didn't call- not that night or the next day.  I got to thinking if he didn't hurry up, my kids would be back from their dad's and I wouldn't be available for another week, so I broke my rule and called him.  As soon as he picked up the phone, I said, "My kids will be back in 2 days, so if we don't go out tonight, we won't get to go out." Oh, Lawd, what jingle bells I had grown!

I get all cute, shaved legs, put on matching undies (like it mattered, he'd never see them on a first date, blah, blah, blah), and….nothing…..waiting…..waiting….45 minutes later, he shows up.  I wanted to give him a 'who the heck are you, I'm very desirable etc. etc' but when I opened the door, I had to reign myself in because I almost laughed in his face.  This guy I knew for nearly 3 decades, the most preppy, athletic, all-American looking guy EVER and he is standing there in painter's pants, a t-shirt with a gecko on it, and open-toe sandals!!!  Despite the surfer dude being late, I got in his Malibu (yeah, surfer dude drove a Malibu) and sat on a PILE of papers in the passenger seat that he didn't bother to move before he got there.

The date went great.  He found it amusing that I told him I needed to interview him to see if he was husband worthy before I spent time dating him.  I explained that I was approaching 30 and had 2 kids, so I was looking for a husband, not a good time, I could find plenty of one and not so much of the other.  He caught on quickly and decided to interview me back.  Since we met all the important criteria, we moved forward at lightening speed.  3 months into the relationship, I got cold feet.  I had just gotten out of a long relationship, never lived on my own before, never went to a bar legally (illegally we won't talk about), and all the other things that happened in the lives of people between 15 and 28 that weren't married with kids.  I broke it off.  

I called him on the phone, said I wasn't ready to give my heart to anyone, and hung up.  He called, I didn't answer.  He came by, I didn't answer the door.  That was it for me.  The next morning, I headed off to work.  I got off the bypass on Veteran's and as I approach the baseball fields, I see a blue car….then I see a guy standing on the road…..and there's a little girl there too….he's holding a sign….It's Grant!!  I slow down and read the sign.  It simply said, "I love you."  Beside him was his little girl and she had picked flowers and made a bouquet.  I stomped on my brakes, turned into the parking lot, and that was it for me.  At that moment, I knew that for better or worse, no matter what, this man would never break my heart.  

3 weeks later, he gave me a ring.  1 week after that, I gave up planning a wedding because every place I picked he had been with some hoochie or another before.  1 week after that, he told me he had the wedding planned and all I needed was a dress.  5 months after my break-in date, we were married in Lake Tahoe.  Now, don't get all gooey on me because it wasn't all hearts and flowers.  Grant was late getting us to the airport and we sat not speaking for 5 hours waiting on another flight.  I thought it was a sign from God that we weren't supposed to marry.  He thought it was a sign from God that the plane would crash, so he basically saved my life.  13 years later, it seems we both got our signs wrong.

Wanting to go full force into my new stay-at-home mom job, what was my first job?  Since my kids were 6,7,and 10 at the time, I figured I needed at least one kid at home to make my new job plausible, so I decided to let the baby making begin!  Grant was on board before I could get the words out of my mouth, but my body balked at the idea.  After 11 months of  'Bugs Bunny' every day, a surgery, and enough drugs to insure I would never ride in the Tour De France with Lance, my doctor advised that nothing was working and IVF may be my only option.  Well, to heck with that, we went on vacation.

We decided to take the kids to Universal Studios in Orlando, and Grant came up with the brilliant idea of staying with his aunt and uncle and taking Grandmother with us to visit while we vacationed.  If I hadn't done so much wrong in my life that I was worried I wasn't going to get into Heaven, I would've said no, but I needed to get some brownie points with God just to hedge my bet, so I said ok.  So here we go, Grant driving, Grandmother shotgun 'on account a her car sickness,' and me and the kids in the back.  When Grandmother walked out with a picnic basket, I knew we were two wood paneling stripes away from being the Griswolds.  I won't bore you with the details, but 18 hours later, after 50 potty breaks and an hour long picnic at an 'appropriate' picnic area, we pulled into the family driveway.

I went straight to one of the guest rooms to escape the fussing, feet, and frustration of the trip and to try and calm MY 18 hours of car sickness before we loaded back up to go to Universal Studios.  After an appropriate amount of family time, we headed out to start our vacation.  The park was amazing.  Our family loves roller coasters and U.S. did not disappoint.  For a solid week, we rode and rerode everything in the park.  At the end of the week, we packed back up and headed back to Mississippi.

On the return trip, it was JUST as much fun as it was before without the anticipation of a great vacation ahead of us.  Yep, the party was over and that trip back was LOOONG.  16 hours later (amazing how a picnic and potty aren't nearly as important as getting back home and away from each other), we pulled into Grandmother's driveway.  The minute she shut the door, the fireworks began.  You see, in my family, if somebody doesn't get a good cussing at least once a week, they don't feel normal, so an entire week's worth of nice had to end.

I had fought motion sickness the entire time we were on vacation, but even after I got home, I couldn't shake it.  Finally, I took a pregnancy test despite the fact that the doctor said I wasn't pregnant just a week before.  Any wouldn't you know it, I was pregnant.  My fetus had rode every dang ride at Universal Studios!  I just knew he would be born with his toes coming out of his ear from being shaken so much when he was getting put together, but luckily, he came out beautifully normal.

Just a few months back, Grant's aunt and uncle came for a visit with Grandmother.  While reminiscing about our fun family vacation, Aunt Jeannie bursts out, "And to think, Jake was CONCEIVED at my house in Pam's old room!"  My jaw hit the floor and bile rose in my throat.  WTH was she thinking?  For 8 years she thought I….did the bunny hop…..in her house…..in Pam's old room…..surrounded with plastic flowers and kitty figurines…. What on God's green earth would possess her to think that 3 octogenarians and 3 kids in a 3 bedroom house would lend itself to baby making?  When I told her I was pregnant BEFORE we came, relief washed over both her and Grandmother.  Needless to say, I'm pretty sure I was a harlot in their minds for nearly a decade until I set the record straight.

Many friends and family encouraged me to start a blog, but I have no idea why.  I am a typical stay-at-home mom doing the things stay-at-home moms do.  Maybe it's because my way of not taking life so seriously appeals to people.  Maybe it's because I like to laugh when crying seems like the more logical response.  Maybe it's because I am a realist (or honest to the point of brutality, whichever you prefer).  Anyway, for whatever reason it is, here I go.

I'll start with where my stay-at-home journey began.  In my former life, I was an elementary school teacher.  For 7 years, I took great pride in teaching children how to believe in the possibility of being whatever they wanted in life.  Yes, I taught reading, math, and such, but my goal was to to encourage, accept, and love my students.  In return, my students gave all that and more back to me.  They are part of the reason I learned to go with the flow, laugh a lot, and when business is done, have fun.

I taught at a school next to a trailer park.  More kids than not came from homes that were more dysfunctional than even my family was  (we will get into that on a later blog), and, Lord, did they bring it to school with them.  A mom came to my class and told my students she was hunting me down to "whoop her a-- like she whooped my kid."  One student (He had an imaginary pet duck that quacked under his desk.) ran away from home in a stolen car at the age of nine.  One asked me what an 'orgasm' was because "my sister was talking about getting one and I don't know if I have one."  to which I replied, "Oh, I think you mean organism, any living thing, so yes, you have one." (dodged a bullet with that one).  Another child thought the definition of 'collapse' was 'a disease my cousin got from a nasty girl.'  Yeah, I learned to think quickly, never show fear or surprise, and roll with the punches (literally, when breaking up a fight).  

In order to teach at a school like this, the instructors had to be a little dysfunctional themselves.  My partner in crime was my BFF, Terri.  More than once, we ran and hid in the gym lockers when the principal was on the prowl so we didn't get caught playing hooky from cheerleader practice.  With the help of our favorite coach, we rigged a tv with paperclips that stretched out the window so we could watch soap operas in my room.  Another teacher had a speech impediment and called one of her students 'Howard' instead of 'Harold' so much, when the office called for 'Harold' to go to the office, he didn't go because he thought they were calling someone named 'Harold' and his name was 'Howard.'  This same teacher forgot that a visitor was blind, and accidentally ran her into a door frame while taking her to a classroom.  I loved these ladies like family and loved every minute with them and the kids.

All good things must come to an end, and my end began when a new assistant principal decided to pee on the parade.  The day before school started, she called me and told me she was moving me to first grade (aka the pee pants, green snot, and vomit at will grade).  I was mortified, to say the least.  When I got in the room with these little terrors, the ass-p (assistant principal, but ass-p fits her better) also informed me that I would have no assistant, and that assistants did recess and all activity classes.  Basically, ass-p told  me that my life was filled with snot and pee for 8 hours straight.  In the words of my teenager, my life was over.  I struggled through the first couple of months but every day was awful.  These kids sucked the fun out of me like that tornado sucked up ToTo.  And then it happened.  Picture it, Halloween 2002, a first grade classroom, me and 20 little demon spawns, and me.  As I look down the hall, I see Halloween candy, streamers, you name it, as far as I could see.  I asked my next door neighbor what was going on and she told me that on Halloween the kids went room to room trick or treating and partying.  Guess who told the newbie about this tradition? Nope, not a soul let me in on this little tidbit until one hour before the festivities.  Well, since I had no assistant, I did the only thing I could do and called Grant (my hubby) to bring everything needed for a party and quickly.  Just as I was hanging up, in walks ass-p and scolds me for being on my phone.  I explained what happened and thought she would have mercy on me, but. of course, that didn't happen.

A few minutes later the ass-p came back to my room and said she would watch my class so I could go talk with the principal.  That heifer turned me in to the principal! I couldn't believe it.  After all I had done, changing grades, buildings, no breaks, no friends, no fun, and now I'm heading to the principal's office because of this tattle tail?  Well, at that moment, my 'don't give a crap' flower was in full bloom.  I walked into the office and the principal was holding a reprimand in his hand.  I explained the whole situation to him, but he said to keep the peace between him and the ass-p, he wanted me to take the reprimand and that would be the end of it, no further action would be taken.  Before I could cover my mouth, I popped off, "Well, then you can take that reprimand and shove it along with this job because I quit." Now, in my head I'm thinking, "Oh, crap, what did you just say? WTH are you thinking? You've  REALLY lost it this time." But to my boss, I hear myself ranting about the ass-p, the demon spawn, it was ugly.  Somewhere in the middle, my brain registered my boss saying, "You can't just quit.  You're under contract.  You have to submit a letter of resignation to the board for their approval."  I see my hand reaching across his desk, him leaning back as if he thinks I'm swinging on him, and my hand grabbing a pencil and a sticky note off the desk.  Then I see my hand write, "To Whom it May Concern:  I quit.  Sincerely, Tracye Prather."  My hand throws it back on his desk, and I turn and walk out. 

My brain started working again about 15 minutes later, and when it did…..I laughed…..and I cried…..

and I laughed again.  Driving in my car, windows down, radio up, sun on my face, life was still good.   Then and there, in the middle of my nervous breakdown, a plain, simple, ordinary stay-at-home mom was born, and so it begins…..