Uncategorized

Blog Ramblings

ImageSo this whole blogging world is new to me. Actually it never occurred to me that people blogged the way they do as in my definition of a blog was people who write and post pictures about their family vacations, children, life as husband and wife and nothing more. One night when I found word press by typing in blogging signing up and surfing you could imagine my surprise when I seen topics from abuse, weight, sexual identity, work, every day life and so on. The majority of my time has been spent on here reading and getting to know some people .Actually a few people I could really call up and ask them is their anyway we could be friends. I even look forward to their next post about their lives or thoughts on a particular subject. I would mention them but think it may be early in the game for this. This has been unexpected and I feel like it is right up my alley as far as being myself and sharing parts of my life. Something that I have always wanted to do. I am a bit overwhelmed because it takes me forever to write one thing and even in writing this my son has the fridge open he is asking me a million questions and I am hunting and pecking these keys and feel as though it is a slow going process. Listen I love to write and talk about things just as much as the next person but feel as though this has not been easy because its hard for me just to sit here and type something on a whim! Sometimes when writing my stories about my past it takes me days because it doesn’t come out of my mind as fast. So this being said this is my first blog where I am just typing what comes to mind. Since reading more and more on here, I know when posting this even if it don’t make since it will be okay and I appreciate this and love that basically its no holds bar around these part.

Home

The Oldsmobile

Childhood

Being  lean in money my dad bought a car to get him from “Point A to Point B”

The Oldsmobile did just this for my dad

Today it holds a bittersweet memory

The car was a lighter brown and long like the long hours my dad worked to support his family on his own

There were four doors only three worked

A reminder of being the family of three we were

The driver side mirror was shattered spider webbed out where you could see my dads broken reflection

Symbolic to all the years he drove around single with a broken heart

The passage side door we all climbed in

Was heavy like the love that my brother and I carry for our hero of a dad

The brownish red interior of the car hung low

like the low times we were having in our lives

The smell of smoke

Fastfood

Filled the air

Like the love my dad poured out to and fro

To form a concrete foundation

To anchor down what we did have

The Car always moved

Slow at first

A reminder

That forward we go but slowly

 

Family · Home · love · Twins

Grateful

My little boy has a head full of dark brown wavy hair. I keep it cut short, it looks like a fitted helmet on his head. His eyebrows are dark and bushy, his brown eyes droop with long thick curled up lashes that you can ring out when wet, his skin is light brown an as smooth as ice, he has tiny dimples, and a smile that look as if he is trying to push out further. He is a complete doll.

The past six months we have set a bedtime hour a bit earlier so we can do some activities. He has started looking forward to this time and so have we. We read stories, sing a few songs, count and pray.Tonight we asked him to tell us a story of his own the story went something like this: ” The Spider crawled up mommy’s arm (using his two little chubby fingers he steps them up my arm) the rain came down splashed out the spider up came the sun and the spider lost his legs and could not walk”

After his story my husband starts reading a book one of my boys favorite books. He goes straight into the book not reading the title. My little guy says silly dad you forgot to read “Chuck and Friends” and he takes my husband back to the cover of the book. We all laugh for different reasons it was a good family moment. It plays back in my mind as I write it out and feels my heart with joy so thankful and glad to tuck it away in my time capsule in hopes he does the same. We start our counting from one to twenty trying to reach a pre school milestone. He gets stuck on thirteen and sixteen but other than that he is doing well and enjoys learning. He has got his own little accent he does while counting and laughs at himself all the way to twenty.

Tonight he was more wound up than usual. I warned him that we would cut it short if he did not straighten up, and of course being four he blew it. We told him we loved him and we would try again tomorrow. He started screaming bloody murder and chanting count, count, count. He eventually fell asleep he was so worn out it wasn’t long. I turned off the television, sat down on the couch and reflected.

I put the pen to paper so one day he can read about this memory and what he means to me as well.

I love you and try to say it many times over in hopes the words embed into your soul. If anything was gained when I lost your brothers it would be the value of life. Most so yours my little guy. I feel as though I can embrace our moments and in my soul know what they’re worth, because I know what it is like to be empty. To come home from a hospital after giving birth and have nothing, nothing in my arms to hold, nothing in the crib to place my eyes on, no baby to put baby clothes on, and milk but no baby to feed. This is the best way for me to explain such a feeling, at the end of the night while you say your prayer. My eyes survey the room at the toys on the floor, pictures on the wall, a bed filled up, with your beautiful head of hair showing. I graze my hand over your head and tilt mine back and say Oh Lord Thank you for filling me up. To you we are so grateful.

Uncategorized

Help!

1} I got to 5 likes and they told me to write a post about them, does that mean that my page itself got 5 likes or does it mean my post did?

2) These awards what are they all about?

3) can we private message fellow bloggers?

4) Do any of my followers have a facebook blog, and can we follow each other on their as well?

5) what do clicks mean on my stat page?

6) If you have any other feedback I am looking forward to hearing from you…

 

Home

Benjamin

First Crush: Who was your first childhood crush, what if you saw him or her again

This  poem was written by me back in Nineteen-Ninety-Nine. My friend Christy said I should enter it in a contest, it may not be that good but she don’t give out compliments unless she means them.

You always have a first love in life who lingers within your cardiovascular. Sometimes later in life  The Holy Spirit might unfold why things did not work… My blessing out of the deal was that my feelings were preserved instead of the alternative.

In the words of my mom Linda “Keep Your Fantasy in A Fantasy” because they’re  not what you imagined. Here is a little piece of my preservation.

The night we met

My feelings hadn’t happened yet

New years eve

You stole my heart from me

All those calls we made

All those nights

We laid awake

Together

safe

Happy

You said You wanted me

I wanted You too

I wanted to be your friend

Share everything

With you

I wished at times

lying next to you

I could’ve melted

To be part of you

Wherever you went to

Today you’re a memory

You remain a fantasy

A deep tear within my heart

The silence

You bestowed upon me

Never trumped

My faith in you

For a great life

Of happiness

I Love you

Daily Post · friendship · Home

Probation

FullSizeRenderTake A Chance On Me: What was the biggest chance you took? Did it work out?

I was twenty-one working in a daycare, taking care of babies. The daycare was large and had about 500 kids all together. The front desk had two happy well dressed woman sitting behind it. They were always smiling and greeting  you by name. There was an elevator across from the desk, it ran to the second story of the building, when you got off  you could go right or left, on the right was a short hallway that cut off into a tea, on the left side was a supervisor office and on the right side the owner of the building had her office. I always took the left turn and around the corner. I enjoyed the turn every morning before walking into my room. There were five infant rooms with windows. You could stand out and peak in at many tiny babies, back then we took care of babies who were just six weeks old. I enjoyed the job and the responsibilities because the job made me feel like I was doing my part to make the world a better place. I still had a lot of growing up to do during my spare time.

I had quite the group of friends that led to many nights out dancing, mingling, and meeting men. We always closed the bars down, meaning we did not leave until sometimes after three. This led to strolling in late to work most mornings and coming head to head with that perfect freshly pressed blonde supervisor. She seemed like she had it all together… ( there has always been something intimidating and admirable about a woman who has herself dressed to the nines first thing in the morning). She would look at her watch, shake her head, and purse her lips. I would walk straight to the elevator with my head down to my chest as far as it would go, standing waiting for the doors to open was like waiting for a punishment from your parents, when you were younger. I somehow managed to dodge her wrath.

THEN

One night got a bit out of hand. My friend (who also worked at the daycare) asked me if I wanted to go for a few drinks… It was the first time I tried Fuzzy Navels and they were going down like Niagara Falls. The few things I remember was leaving with my friend and two other guys, a fight that broke out in the parking lot, and falling up stairs. I woke up to the bright sun beaming on me  in a hotel room (yes hotel room) I got up and ran to the bathroom to get sick, after my episode I stood up, creeped back in to the room with my head down, walked over to the clock, picked it up and with a glance a lump formed in my throat, it was eleven o clock. My shift started at eight. A big fat tear rolled down my face. I walked over and shook my friend. I asked her what should we do? Her answer: well its too late now we will just have to look for another job. She lived with her parents. I had my own place and enjoyed having my own place, plus I  loved my job. It made me feel helpful, needed, and grown up. I had let myself down for the first time in my whole life. I got myself together and headed home and went straight to bed. I cried myself to sleep. I woke up later that evening thinking about how to make this right, regardless of the outcome. My plan was just calling and lying, for some reason I  couldn’t bring myself to do that.

The next morning came in as slow as a snail. I got out of bed at six o clock, got breakfast, my shower, and put my makeup on and headed out. My roommate: where are you going”? “To work” Do you think you still have a job Shelley? I have know  idea but I had to try. The drive into town remains the most nerve-racking drive of my whole life. I got to the parking lot and had a few minutes to get inside before my shift. I sat there debating about going in. I just could not give up this good thing I had going on with this job. I got out my car with my head high and shoulders up! I opened the double doors and my boss was sitting at the front desk. I walked straight in as fast as I could to the elevator with my head down. “Shelley” what are you doing here? Going to work? “No” you don’t work here anymore. The words shot out of her mouth in hit me like a bullet to the lungs. Taking my breath away, clumping up in my throat, slowly choking me and holding my voice hostage. It took me a minute to swallow so I could say something. People started to gather around and watch, making the situation worse. “Shelley” just turn around and go home. Fran, please just let me go to my classroom please? “Shelley” you let so many people down yesterday including your class, you through my schedule off and I had to switch people to different class rooms because you no called no-show. Fran please let me go upstairs and do my job?  She sat there for a minute pursing her lips and not blinking. I guess I could use you for the day. Go to your room. We will come get you later. You may have a chance to explain yourself. The day drug but that was okay by me. They waited until the end of my shift to come and get me. We walked down the hall of shame to the supervisor’s office with five well put together woman (you know how that gets me). The owner of the daycare included was there and says what happened to you yesterday Shelley? I sat there debating if I was going to tell the truth or not. She says again “Shelley were waiting” I looked at them all and said I will shoot for the truth, last night I had one to many drinks and woke up at eleven o clock in a hotel room and I really can’t remember too much at all. The reason I did not call was because I had to get myself together, I was shocked, sick and a mess and needed to reflect. I let myself down and had to figure out how to handle the situation. They all looked at each other and looked at me. Then the director says you’re  on probation for three months if you so much come in a minute late we will let you go. I stood up off that chair and told them all “Thank You” it was that moment of truth where I transformed and set the foundation of my work ethics!

If you ever do anything in life be honest, face your mistakes head on even if your punished you will be free. True freedom comes within the heart and mind. When you tell the truth its then when you truly live.

Uncategorized

The Trailer

When my brother and I were younger my father raised us. “All by his Smokey Lonesome” so to say my mother took off and handed the whole job to my dad! He is one of the most loving men I know. My father is medium build with once red hair now gone white, fair skin and a mustache that is very trimmed up and has worn it longer than I can recall? If you do not know my dad you may be intimidated and if you do know him you may be intimidated, he has always got his arms crossed (if he is standing) if you ask him a question you will get a straight answer, he pulls no stops, he always says what he means and means what he says, my dad has always got his priorities right where they should be even in his early twenties when he was taking care of us by himself (no child support or help from the state). He worked most of the time to put a roof over our head, food on the table and clothes on our backs. To tell you the truth this is not all he done or what my heart goes back to. Among other things that went down in my life without a mom my childhood school years is what I struggle getting over. With help of the Holy Spirit and putting the pen to the grind and age has soften the blows. I will tell you I still have a bit of work to do. As a little girl with course short black hair that the name “fro” was no stranger, along with my dark skin did not make for a “Walk in the Park” going to a bit of a smaller school. My dad would fix my hair the best he could and send me off with love. Their my hell would begin by getting called anyone with a bit of darker skin would be, by the age of nine my vocabulary was no stranger to trash, poor, or nigger, the fact we did not live on the upside of town took a toll on me as well, being asked where my dad shopped or what he did for a living by the time middle school hit, they were also telling me my mother did not want me cause I was so ugly and my dad found me in a garbage can (cause he looked nothing like me). Kids were starting to sit behind me and shoot spit wads in my hair along with rubber bands or anything else small that would get stuck and be amusing for them. This was also the years when kids started putting their hands on me one time I was last as always coming outside, and had something special waiting for me behind the wall, a girl who grabbed me and bashed my head up against the brick. I did push her back to save myself but guess who got in trouble? One time a boy in my younger elementary school years was my friend challenged to fight me after getting off the bus a few throws were thrown but the hurt came from betrayal. There were a few more times where kids in numbers would have a hey day with me and since I got away let me just spare you the details. Kids would blame things on me if someone did something they were not supposed to do in class and teachers believed them? they would also make up names to call someone then blame it on me, one time a girl met me after school and told me to just wait until she was off of school property and she eventually did what she set out to do. Then and even now they remain to be some very sad times for me and one man got me through what I call the trenches of my life. My dad’s love is what shinned a light on some very dark times. He was so good at spending his time off with us it took a load off me. He would take us to the plowed down field across the way and fly kites with us (unravel it real slow sis it will go higher) he would take us to the drive in movies and we would always fall asleep, oh how it wasn’t the movie dad, in the winter he would take us sledding do you remember that steep snowy hill you fell down dad? Sitting on his laps while the cubs lost to another game, I can still hear him and Harry Caray yelling even today! giving us all the change in his pocket at the end of the day, running after the snow cone man for us, movies on the living room floor with his midnight snack always easy to share, sitting at the kitchen table eating all of our suppers, helping us do homework there as well, carrying us to bed when we fell asleep at night, hugging us all the time, if something was upsetting us he would always say, “it is going  be okay” and it always was, my list could go on and on. The foundation you gave me through that time drives me through the storms even today and I am able to move forward with one foot in front of the other in even raising my own child, free and clear of what love alone can do, and never will I ever forget all I ever needed to live this life is what you alone taught me in that trailer.

Uncategorized

“Practice makes…

“Practice makes Perfect”

Like I said before I am really having trouble figuring out all this blogging?  In the past I would journal then I took a writing class this last past year and learned a few things “basics” actually basic English. I did not do to well in High School so when going to college it was more or less staring from the beginning. My teacher informed me that she really enjoyed my work which was based on actual events of my life. She told me my grammar was not really a issue in her class and when more time allows I should take the introduction to novel and she hopes to see me when I have more time? she told me practice makes perfect so here I am and would love just a few friends outside my own life to help me along if anyone is interested let me know and give me some pointers.

Uncategorized

My First post

Today is rainy, cold and a bit dark out,  however I am irritated as usual. Why you ask? My Tin can is a mess and I am  behind on laundry, the floor needs vacuumed and the kid need sometime to run and jump and all I can think about is getting this page up in running and have not got the slightest idea how its going to all come together. For instance my picture what is a j peg picture? They will not let me download a picture from my computer, so what can I do to meet the requirements for a simple picture of myself? Also it would be nice to have a friend. So please feel free to chime in and befriend me with  a little help as well.