Too Much

Too early on the Monday of Thanksgiving vacation (x 20).  Why can't my internal clock just stay asleep a little longer I ask.  It seems cruel and unusual punishment to not sleep late on days when you have the opportunity.

In the last couple of weeks we have found the man's half-sister that was given up for adoption 46 years ago.  It has been the most exhilarating, and scary/terrifying, experience.  The last time I have felt both excitement and nervousness to that level was on my wedding day.  It's kind of hard to describe.

Yet me, in all of my being myself, is still curious, still wondering (about things that are really not my business).  And then asking, when is something too much? Too much excitement? Too much clinginess?  Too much "I think I know you so well"? Do I not have the ability to step back, give room, not seek?  What are you seeking?  Why do you "come on so strong"? I am definitely in awe of people who have a laid back, blase, no rush attitude, who don't need another human to verify them.  I can only aspire.

In the mist of the most wonderful news ever is also the acknowledgement that everything is not a bed of roses, all easy, and wonderful feelings. This is the other side of the effects of life-changing decisions. How do you fill the void that someone is missing when the person with the answers has gone already?  How do you take away the feeling of rejection, no matter the circumstances then and now? And the hurt, pain, and sadness that have been around for a lifetime?  There is no magic eraser but there is definitely a heavy heart here knowing that someone is feeling that, and try as you might, you don't have the ability to fix it. Pray mighty big, that God can heal the hurts and fill the holes is the most my mind can think of. 

Just For Fun

Ladies, WITHOUT prompting, ask your husband/boyfriend/fiancé these questions and write EXACTLY what they say. The outcome can be hilarious.

•What is something I always say?
What do you think?

•What makes me happy? 
Sam Heughan with no clothes on

•What makes me sad?
not being around my old family so much

•How tall am I? 
5’ 6’

•What's my favorite thing to do? 
scrapbooking and editing pics on computer

•What do I do when you're not around?
scrapbooking, editing pics, facebooking, visiting family

•If I become famous, what will it be for? 
biggest Outlander fan

•What makes you proud of me? 
your motherly skills

•What is my favorite food?
some type of corn tortilla, dip, avocado

What is my favorite restaurant? 
Tampico’s

•Where is my favorite place to visit?
Viet fu-- Nam

•If I could go anywhere, where would it be?
Vietnam

•Do you think you could live without me?
I didn’t ask him. (He has so I’m sure he could)

•How do I annoy you?
you’re doing it now (asking him questions). Not paying bills

•What is my favorite movie? 
Dirty Dancing, Grease, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

•Who is my celebrity crush?
that dude Jamie

•You get a phone call that says I'm in trouble, who am I with?
Jessica (he started to say Toni).

I Once was Where You Are

 Yes, I once was where you are.  I felt like you, thought like you.  It's almost unsettling. So many thoughts. Thoughts about family, about the guy on the receiving end of my love and affection, about spending nights together, cuddling, about careers and setting the world on fire.

  Then life happened. We got caught up in life. Babies, jobs, attention from the wrong places, stress, overwhelmed, non-communication, rejection, lies. The best of times, the worst of times.  Very cliche but very true.

   No one starts out in the prime of their life and hopes to not only do stupid things, but hurtful things.  Don't be judgmental. You simply never know what bridge you will have to cross, even when it seems like the most FAR-FETCHED  idea ever.  It can happen to you.

  Be careful on those judgements. I don't promise many things but I do promise they will come back to you. It's the reap what you sow logistics of life.

   Pick your arguments. Being "right" isn't all it's cracked up to be.  My right may not be your right at this moment, and it may never be. But there may come a day, when you not only understand but actually change your view of this "right".  I have done it more than once. Ironically, it seems the older I get, the more it happens.  It's all about perception, experience, and current spot in life.

You Simply Can't Imagine

My cousin.  Younger.  One of 10.  Jaimie. Third child of my mom's youngest sister. Nothing seems especially peculiar, outstanding, or any aha about that, unless you hold her close to your heart.

   When she came along, I remember my mom (her Nanny) driving from Broussard with us in the backseat, like a crazy person, so she could get to the hospital soon enough to be there when Jaimie came into the world.
  We stayed at my aunt's house with my great-grandmaw Barrilleaux.  I remember me, Paul (Aunt Sherry's oldest), and Grandmaw Barrilleaux laying in the bed.  And the call coming in sometime in the middle of the night.  Sherry had given birth to a baby girl.  My first thought was "oh my gosh", it's Paul's birthday! August 15.
And then she came home.  Maybe we were there, maybe we weren't.  But all of mom's pictures were not good.  The hair spray can had busted in the bag with the film.  She looked like Shaula.  And we would call her Shaula, ALL THE TIME.

   And then she grew.  At some point, she became the one we got to take, here, there, where ever.  She was easy going, quiet, calm (not that everyone else wasn't.  We were a pretty calm bunch.)
   She spent time with me, and Rick.  Just loved having her around.  It wasn't a thought.  I really can't imagine why she would have enjoyed being with any of us.  She came to college with me.  I even think she had to sit in the hall (please forgive me!!!).  She came to our friends' house.  She hung out at home.  She brought us the flowers for our moms when we got married.  She is Hannah's godmother (one of the most noblest "jobs" ever).
   She reminds me, or makes me realize things about myself that I have never known or noticed (evidently I say excuse me under my breath when I burp.  I NEVER NOTICED THIS, and definitely didn't think anyone else did either).  I talk about anything, deepest fears, highest moments, doubts, battles, so much, and she just nods her head like that's okay.  I don't know if she agrees, or not, but I always feel I am normal (surely I am extreme one way or the other, no doubt).
   And no matter life's road for her, an adventure always, I feel as if my dreams are absolutely channeled through her (yes, that sounds way too deep).  And I stand in awe.  Not letting fear, the unknown, any of the above halt you in any way is always my thought.
  She had a little heart surgery last year.  I had an aunt, a precious and very close aunt, that had open heart surgery the year I graduated from high school.  She was a diabetic, and her husband was a Jehovah's witness.  She needed blood.  He refused to give it to her.  She was my grandmother's sister, one of her closest.  My grandmother and her siblings went to a judge to get a court order for the doctors to give her blood.  The doctors were blunt, "If she doesn't receive blood soon, she will die."  She did die.  I was devastated.  But there is something about losing a loved one at 18, as opposed to 40-something.  Age definitely changes perception, and how much you appreciate the scope of the person and all that they entail.  So, when it was Jaimie's turn for surgery, it became a battle between being "strong" and making sure she knew every possible thing I thought she needed to know if God wanted to take her home.  And if I went with the "tell her everything" mindset, how much faith is that?  And then how much fear am I adding to what must already be a scary situation?  I don't think I unloaded all of my thoughts (my memory is shady at best).
    Are you ever just scared that someone may not know how much you love them?  How "proud" you are of them (even when it is not your place, or you don't have a right to be proud.  That's a parent position)?  How thankful you are that they let you love them?  It really is just that simple.  Just in case you don't know.


 

A Grandpaw and a Gun

    

    I don't know if this picture matches the Easter we spent with my grandparents, the memory seems to match the age. 

My Grandmaw Irene, Grandpaw Lloyd, Kim, Karen and me. 

   My cousin, Kim, no doubt my first best friend. No matter when we had the chance to see each other, from my earliest memory of her, it was always a happy time. I was always excited. 

   This Easter, I remember her and I sleeping on a fold-out sofa bed. When we woke up in the morning, the Easter baskets were no where to be found. I I can still see so clearly, Kim and I sitting on the bed and looking at my Grandpaw at the door. His story: he shot the Easter Bunny when he was jumping out of the window, and that was why we didn't have any Easter baskets! The thought that the bunny was dead was just horrible, my little child mind couldn't grasp that idea. Thinking about it now ,

I'm not surprised by his story, it was his niche-storytelling. 

   And the final memory, walking in the front room, my grandparent's room, and finding our baskets sitting there. I still have the basket. 💛💚💜

I LOVE

I LOVE.....

• how you don't ask in the morning how work is going.  Heck, you don't ask at all, any time during the day. 
• how you don't ask how I'm feeling, ever.  
• how you don't dance with me, regardless of the occasion.  I simply appreciate more the ones who did (you know those precious friends who would twirl me around the floor), and the times I get to take pictures at events and watch others dance, all the time thinking those ladies have won the lottery and don't even know it. 
• how you only wash your own dish and not all the others that are stacked up.  It's a great reminder that no one will take care of me but me. 
• how you don't call me baby.  Not because you don't know how to call someone baby but because you don't look at me that way.  You call our daughter baby.  It's the perfect vision of your perception.  It is the most stark reminder of those that have special nicknames. It makes me appreciate them even more.  
• how you give me a hard time about drinking any kind of beverage.  You miss out on the me that is a bit more carefree, fun, cheesy.  Just different ;-)
• how you don't like to spend so much time with family, near and far.  It makes me appreciate them and my time with them even more.  They wrap me in the good stuff. I feel comfortable around them and know it's okay to be me.  
• how you don't ever ask what you can do to help, with anything.  I see you're drowning, don't worry about the clothes, the dishes, the house.  Oh, you need me to stack some papers for you, put them in alphabetical order?  No problem, I can do that in a few minutes.  Nope, never.  
• how you control the remote EVERY SINGLE DAY AND NIGHT.  If you are in the house, it doesn't matter if I want to watch something, I better go sit in the room, alone, and watch it because it won't be with you.  
• how every conversation is diabolical and manipulated because you simply can't imagine that people do not have an ulterior motive.  That maybe, just maybe, they don't think that deeply about simple things.  The deep stuff is saved for the big things, like emotions and love.  
• how you like to hug on a pillow or a blanket that ends up between us.  It hurts my back so much and pushes me so far away from you.  Another opportunity for me to be thankful for those that loved freely, and didn't feel the need to hold back affection for any reason at all. 
• how you are so judgmental of physical appearance and beauty.  I become even more grateful for the love of my body.  There are some who can desire a person, regardless of physical attributes.  Desire is a mighty powerful thing (the most powerful for me.  I don't think you've noticed that).  
• how you disregard tears.  In fact, I'm pretty sure you have never cried.  
• how our children have some of my most sincerest personality traits.  I have no doubt how that's going to benefit them.  
• how so many actions, by others, that I tell you are out of line but somehow you make me sound irrational.  Maybe I'm too much of a feeling=actions kind of person.  Or my loyalty is entirely too great and too deep.  

It's an addiction

My memory is kept by the pictures. Almost to a point that is scary. Everything is visual. Even when I write, I write as if I'm trying to create a picture with words. My happiness is looking at the moments frozen in time or the videos with movement and talking. My memories fade quickly, I can't hear the voice, don't remember the words. At this moment in my life, I think my "niche" is putting words and pictures together. I want to use pictures to tell every story as a record of the moment, or a person's personal story or just thoughts where you find the pictures that match the words. 

No doubt my retirement is planned at 42.