The love of my life. The meaning to my smile

True and total happiness!

When all the stars have fallen down into the sea and on the ground, and angry voices carry on the wind, a beam of light will fill your head and you’ll remember what’s been said by all the good men this world’s ever known

I think I have bloggers block. Or I might be premenstural. I don’t know. I’ve been rather reclusive this last week. And for no good reason. I’m not upset, I’m not sad, I’m not mad or insecure. I’m just not inspired. I haven’t been on the interent in days. I’ve done fly by checking of my myspace mail, and everynow and then I’ve checked my gmail, but basically I’ve been voiceless as of late. I haven’t been chatting on my cell, either. Weird, huh. But I get that way. Sometimes I just don’t wanna talk. Sometimes I don’t have anything to say. And I have no patience for trying to be interesting and conversational when I have absolutely no opinions. It sounds like a funk, but I swear I’m not upset. I’ve just been complacent. I still am, mostly.

But not on Saturday. No way. And let me warn you I’m about to get political. I’m stepping up on a soapbox. I’m about to get jiggy wit my opinions…….

Today marks the anniversary of the controversial Roe vs Wade. I am Pro-Choice. You might can tell where this is going. I am a single mother and I am proud to be a parent. I believe in a higher power. I believe in the right to speak and be heard. I believe that peaceful protest can make a difference. I was raised by war protesting liberal hippies. And I have been raised to believe everyone has the right to their opinion.

So, I was somewhat supprised at my reaction to a protest on Saturday. My face burned with outrage. My skin crawled with angry goose bumps. I got so worked up, in fact, that I couldn’t breath.

It all started Saturday morning when my ex-husband and I decided to walk to get his car from five points, where he’d left it the night before rather than drive home intoxicated. I have a cold and was in need of expectorant and the drug store was on the way. It was a nice morning and the walk seemed like a good idea. So we set out, my ex-husband, my dog, and me. We had gone a couple of blocks when we noticed a gaggle of police vehicles, lights flashing, blocking off the road ahead of us. Oooo, I thought, maybe it’s a crime scene. Morbid of me, I know, but that’s what I thought. We cautiously eased by the roadblocks on the sidewalk after being reassured by the police that we could go. (well, actually we tried to get their attention by waving and whatnot, but the coppers were too busy chatting to pay us any attention, so since they didn’t tell us to stop or look alarmed at us passing we took it as permission to keep on walking) A few more blocks, a few more police vehicles later and we start to see a large police van followed by a very large, but oddly silent, crowd carrying signs. I could vaguely make out the word “kills” on one of the signs and suddenly realized that it was an Anti-Choice protest. (for those of you confused by my symantics, let me explain. As a Pro-Choice supporter I am offended ~ and I’m not easily offended~ by the term “Pro-Life” It impies that the other side of the argument is anti-life. As in pro death. Which is ridiculous. So I opt not to use that term) Now, as I have stated I support protest. I support speaking up and stating your opinions. We live in America and you have that right. And thank whatever God you believe in for that. But as we approached the demonstrators I became increasingly heated. It wasn’t the demonstration itself that was getting me worked up. It was small, maybe a hundred or so people, and sadly under attended. As they marched silently down the streets of Five Points ~ the most liberal part of Birmingham, no one paid much atttention. Which made me sad, for them. But I found two or three things very very disturbing about their protest.

First, and most practically, I was angered by the amount of police escort these peeps had. The crime rate in Five Points has grown increasingly by extremely alarming numbers in the last five years. Rape, muggings, and murders have become quite the regular news headline for this part of town. Now for those of you who are not familiar with Birmingham, Five Points is where the bars are located. And the nice restuarants. And is within walking distance of UAB (The University that Ate Birmingham) and just blocks from Sanford, another nice collage. It is the place for co-eds to congregate. Several years ago the police force in southside was weeded down and reassigned to other parts of Birmingham to prevent the outrageous crime rates in those areas. As the years passed the criminals figured it out and have relocated to Five Points. Most of the business owners and employees have been working for some time, passing around several petitions, to get a larger police presence in this area. And nothing has happened. Some nights you couldn’t find a cop in Five Points to save your live, and most of the time if you are looking for one it’s for that very reason. But here, on a peaceful and quiet Saturday morning you couldn’t spit and not hit four or five police officers. Closing off SEVERAL blocks of busy streets for these demonstrators. And, by the way, since when does the Ant-Choice side need protecting. They are the ones that BOMB clinics. They are the ones that scream and yell and grab you if you attempt to enter clinics. They are the ones carrying signs of dead baby parts. Were the police there to portect us from them? I mean seriously. This is a city that survived a hideous Clinic bombing, by Eric Rudolph killing a police officer and permantly injuring a nurse (no actual abortion doctors harmed, just innocents). I’ve never heard of a Pro-Choice supporter bombing or killing anyone to get the point across. BTW, the protest had the audascity to walk by the very same clinic that was bombed all those years ago.

My second issue was the four teenage BOYS carrying a child sized coffin wearing red tape over their mouths. Okay, first off, if you are a teenage boy and you are on the Anti Choice side of the argument (which I already have a problem with boys having an opinion on abortion at all, but my mother keeps reminding me that everyone is entitled to their opinion) then here’s a suggestion on how to stop a huge number of abortions…keep your dick to yourself. We do KNOW what causes pregnancy, you know. The tape should be over your zippers and not you mouths. Not having the sex would stop a good number of abortions.

And secondly, a child’s coffin!!! I am so glad my child was not with me. I would have been horrified at my son being subjected to this sight. He is eleven and exactly as mature as he needs to be at eleven. I bet these same people block violent tv from their televisions so their children aren’t affected by the worlds violence, the same people who think the purple Teletubbie is gay and therefore should be removed from childrens television. But toting around a baby coffin and signs with very vivid pictures of dead babies is just peachy in their book. It really pisses me off. There is this Anti-Choice van that sometimes parks outside my sons school and the local library where a lot of his school mate go after school. This van is COVERED with horribly graphic pictures of dead things. If it were a video game it would be rated M for mature. If it were a movie it would be rated NC-17 or R and I would have to show my ID to get in to see it. But here it is sitting outside the elementary school for fice and six years olds to see. It just pisses me off. There is a time and place. Have some decency! Are first and second graders really your target audience?

Another thing that bothered me was these women carrying signs that read “I regret my abortion” Well, I’m very sorry for you. I am. But that’s your shit to deal with, not mine. Talk to your shrink. That’s what they are there for. I have no place in your guilt. Work it out yourself and move on.

My final rant about the protest is this: They had their children with them. Children, I believe, should be outside playing ball or in treehouses, not walking down the street carrying signs proclaiming that I’m going to hell over a subject they have no grasp of. What an awful burden to lay on a childs shoulders. And let me clarify here, I am appalled at children under a certian age at ANY protest. I was horrified to look into a little girls innocent eyes and see hate. Please don’t preach to me about children being important while you raise your child on hate.

Now, let me clarify some things here. My child is the most important thing in my world. I would not trade him for anything. I never ever regret having him. He is my light. I try to raise him to respect others opinions, religions, and cultures. I try to raise him to have repsect for the planet and the universe. I try to raise him to make good decisions. And I’m doing a damn fine job of it. I explain to him both sides of political controversy. Not just my side, but the other side as well. I was horrified when he asked me about abortion, but I explained to him what it was and why there was some much controversy surrounding it. And I hope that my son feels as though he can talk to me about any situation that arises in his young life in these dangerous times that we live.

Let me also clarify some things about me and my opinion. I was a very troubled teenager. I lived a good deal of my adolesent years as a runaway, in and out of juvenile halls. I am not proud of this past, but not ashamed, either. It has shaped me. And during those times I got myself in to several situations. I have been pregnant four times. I have had an abortion, a miscarrage, and two live births ~ on of which I gave up for adoption when I was just fifteen. I have some expirience in the choices and consequences of pregnancy. And I have some pretty strong views. I do not regret one single decision I made. The miscarrage, of course, not being a decision, I really had no choice. And it was awful, a pain ~ mentally and physically~ I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Though I do not regret my decisions I understand the pain of making them and those that do regret. It hurts. All of it. But they are our decisions to make. Not yours to make for me.

And I thank every God I can think of that I live in a country that allows me to make my own decisions. It could be a lot worse

You’re living in your own private Idaho

Okay I started off the year a bit thoughtful. Melancholy, even. But not in the way you might think. I wasn’t so much reflective on the last year or conjuring up dreams for the upcoming year. I found myself focusing on how retarded I’ve been in a couple of my relationships. And how much time I’ve wasted. In both relationships that could have been good and relationships that were not worthy of me. A friend of mine recently asked me “When does he come? When does the one I’m supposed to be with come? When do I get to stop going through this?” I had no answer for her. I mean, jeez, what a fucking question! I don’t know if I’ve ever actually thought about it in those terms, exactly. Of course I am possibly jaded. And I believe that I have already found the one and fucked it up. How do you know which one is “the one”? And, damn, is there just ONE “the one” for each person? That just sucks. And if you find someone in which you never struggle with would it be worth spending the rest of your life in that peaceful calm? How do you grow without struggle? Not me. I need some downs so that I can have those fabulous ups and appreciate them when they happen. Plus, I’d be bored if I got what I wanted all the time.

But as I’ve previously stated, I’ve wasted some time. Wasted some time playing those silly mind games that you play simply because you are afraid to be rejected or hurt. Why can’t I just tell him that I’d do anything for him. That I would be willing to spend the remainder of my days with him? Seems simple enough. And why waste time remembering that relationship when I know nothing has changed. The same issues remain. Can’t be together. It’s just that sometimes my silly heart just doesn’t listen to reason and reality.

And then there’s the crush I have. Why can’t I just say, “Hey, I like you. Wanna have a go of it?” I’m a grown woman and somehow still I am terrified of being told no. Or worse, being laughed at. Or even worse, being that girl. Any more on this subject might give away the identity of my crush and I’m not ready for that…just yet.

And why, oh why, did I waste even a minute of my time of that pitiful drug addict? Do you ever have moments in your life that you look back on and just cringe? That whole year of my life was completely wasted. When I think of all the things I could have done with that year and all the minutes I’ll never get back because of that wasted peice of shit I am disgusted.

Then there was all that time I wasted, correction, we wasted in a relationship that we knew would never go anywhere.I knew, he knew, but we were comfortable. I guess. I fear I’ll never quite figure that out. When I’m asked about it, I have no answers. Simply put, I just don’t know.

So, I spent my New Years Eve with the one boy who is never, not one moment, wasted time. My son, Tristan. For me, he will always be the one. He saves my life every single day. Every moment I spend with him I learn something. He could barely keep his eyes open for the midnight celebration. As I lay next to him I studied every eyelash, every crease, every inch of his face and I felt complete. I studied the scar on the corner of his eye where he fell at daycare, opened up the side of his eye socket, and I had to rush him to the hospital. His brown hair still has the softness and curl of that baby boy that used to fall asleep in my arms breathing gently on my chest. There is no one I would rather ring in the New Year with. I had to wake him up when midnight finally came. He opened his eyes (barely) sleepily kissed me and said “Happy New Year, momma, I love you” as he rolled over and fell back into that deep sleep of childhood. It was a good, no GREAT, New Years Eve. It’s gonna be a good year.

Now if I could only muster up the nerve to ask……

And there go all my defenses

Well, there it was. Another Christmas come and gone. It’s time to take the tree down and I don’t want to. Why can’t I have Christmas for a whole week. Every morning waking up and running downstairs to see what’s under the tree! Even now, in my thirties, I have a hard time sleeping on Christmas eve. My eyes just won’t shut. As soon as the sun appears on Christmas morning my lids fly open and I jump out of bed. As clear as day I remember the morning I ran out of my room and found my furry Strawberry Shortcake blanket under the tree. That was a great year! I had begged and begged my mother for that blanket. It came from one of those boothes in the middle of the mall ( I believe it was in Eastwood Mall back when there was a Mr. Gattis in there) The blanket cost $30 something dollars, which was not a small amount to my parents back in the seventies/early eighties. Everytime we walked by that boothe I would run up and hug the blanket and beg my mother to buy it. So, when on Christmas morning I saw it under the tree, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. I still think about that damn blanket. I wonder what happened to it. Recently Candace and I found the exact same furry blanket merchants at Christmas Village. When I spoke to the proprietor he confirmed that he had owned the boothe in Estwood Mall all those years ago. I swear I nearly cried. But, alas, a thirty dollar blanket from the eighties now cost over $100.

This year I watched as my sons eyes lit up with wonder and glee as he opened all the presents he thought he wasn’t going to get. It gets harder and harder to make that face happen as your little baby turns slowly (or way too quickly) into a teen. Not nearly as much amazes them. Well, they don’t let it show nearly as often. So when my tweener opened his new X-bos 360 (which we completely convinced him was unreasonable and there was no way we could afford it) and the LongShot 3foot Nerf Shotgun (that everyone told him he couldn’t have because he’d shoot his eye out – I know, we’re evil) and his face glowed with that happy wonder and amazment it was the best Christmas present I could have ever recieved. It was a very happy Christmas morning!

I’m looking foward to the new year. I don’t make resolutions on New Years. I don’t need the guilt of breaking them. However this year I do have some goals I’m starting the year with. They are simple. You’d think so, anyway. It’s the usual crap: loose weight, get job, dance, be happy.

And why is it that just when you think you have it all figured out. Just when you think it’s completely out of your system. Just when you think you’re fine without it. It strolls right up to you and smiles. Je devine c’est la vie.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Wow, it’s Christmas already! Yeah!!!!!!

Here’s what I have learned this Christmas season so far:

Tweeners are extremely hard to shop for! This year my sons Christmas list included a $3,000.00 gaming laptop and a set of Dragon Mega Blocks.

Toys for boys come in two shapes: Square and Wrapthisbitch!

Even the hardiest of Christmas lovers can get irritated with Christmas traffic and other shoppers. I try to stay merry during the season. But Ill be damned if I didn’t mutter a few choice words at some of my fellow shoppers.

X-Box 360 games cost a buttload! There’d better be gold in those little square boxes!

My parents and sister live way too far away from me!

My son is easy to tease about Christmas.

I can’t wait till Sunday because I’m spending it with my Son, Grandmother, Aunt, and Cousins.

My best friend Bri makes the best gosh darn cookies! I’m glad she only makes them at Christmas because otherwise I’d be FAT! Okay, fatter.

Oh and one unrelated to Christmas thing:
Sometimes I just can’t be the bigger person.

Remember why you came, and while you’re alive experience

Ah childhood.

Remember fieldtrip day? Not only do you get to be out of school for an entire day, but you get to ride on the bus and eat sack lunches. And usually you are going somewhere cool and fun. Your parents aren’t there to hassle you or wrangle you. Just you, your friends, and the world.

From a kids perspective it’s a great day.

As a parent, it’s a little different.

My baby is riding on a charter bus for an hour each way today. For me this is nerve-racking. It seems like a constant stream of bus related accidents are reported on the news each week. I realize it’s not as many as my mind is conjuring up, but it happens. When I Googled “bus + accident” I was astounded at the 6,120,000 results. Typing in “bus + crash + school” yields you a mere 1,280,000. The first few included: “Fourth teen dies in school bus crash”, “Mechanical issue may have caused bus crash”, “Bus crash kills 22”, and “Ham Lake school bus brash injures 24”. I know I’m crazy and paranoid and overprotective but this terrifies me.

My kid was tremendously excited about today’s field trip. The thrill of riding on the Charter bus topped his list of things he was excited about. He’s actually traveling to the Alabama Shakespeare Festival Theater in Montgomery. And I have to admit, of that, I’m quite jealous. And Tristan was pretty excited about seeing the play. And as he sat there rambling on and on excitedly about the trip my mind was spinning. I was excited for him. But at the same time all these horrible scenarios were going through my parental head. What if the bus crashes, what if he gets separated from his group, what if he wanders off and no one notices, what if he gets abducted and I’m not there to watch him, what if what if what if……

I know what you’re thinking. I know I’m being crazy. And I have these kind of thoughts constantly. I don’t let it control me. I try my hardest not to let it affect Tristan and his fun. I let him go on field trips and to other kids houses (I always panic about guns being accessible in others houses. I saw a commercial once that scared me for life. It showed parents relaxing and commenting on how glad they were that their son was next door playing with his friend, and then if flashes to two young boys and one of them says “hey you wanna see my dads gun” and the other kid says “yeah, cool” and then they are looking at the gun and then you hear a gun shot as the screen goes black. It was affective. I have been scared ever since). I let him ride his bike and go to the park. But it doesn’t mean this shit isn’t knocking around in my brain.

So here I sit. Trying not to think about it. Trying, unsuccessfully, not to think about it.

In other news: My car is fixed!! Yeah!! Whoo hoo!!! ~I’m jumping up and down, you can’t see me but I am~ All thanks to Guy. Guy is amazing, a lifesaver, a fanfuckingtastic friend. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again and again: I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve such amazing friends but I thank God, Guan Yin, Buddha, Shiva, Vishnu, Rama, Krishna, Allah, Amaterasu Omikami, Lao-Tse, Goddess, Bahá’u'lláh, Haile Selassie, and whoever else I can thnk of every single day for them!!

Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids, in fact it’s cold as hell

My kid makes me laugh more than any other human being on earth. And most of the time it’s not even on purpose. Kids say what crosses their minds when it crosses their minds. No filters. No sense of social obligation. My child is at the unique juncture of being not quite a teenager but easing past child. He is curious and interested and changing while at the same time still wanting to play and chase and watch cartoons. Now I do realize that he is a male and males never really stop wanting to play and chase and watch cartoons. But you get my drift.

For example yesterday we were watching tv and a commercial for a jewelry store came on. The name of the store is “Kay’s” and the tagline is “Every kiss begins with Kay”. Clever, I know. Anyhoo, my son is sitting next to me watching. Contemplating. “That’s not true”, he says. So I look at him, curious to what is going through is tweener mind. “Not every kiss begins with k”, he says seriously. “oh, really”, I reply. “Not french kiss. French kiss begins with F” I sat there in amusement. Trying to wrap my mind around my baby saying and knowing the term “french kiss” I guess he got it from tv or movies or.. well let’s face it , he probably got it from me. Anyway, it was a very preteen thing to say. The sort of silly, lame, quasi dirty humor that another fifth grader would have thought was hilarious. And it made me laugh. Right out loud. And then to prove that he is still little and not quite a preteen he followed it with , “neither does butterfly kiss or Eskimo kisses” I can’t explain exactly why this warmed my heart so or why was compelled to grab him and hugged him (causing him to give me one of those “you’re crazy, mom” looks. I get those a lot.)

But the best example happened several weeks ago at the mall. I’m a shopaholic. I’ve had to come to terms with that after the first chapter of Sophia Kinsella’s “Confessions of a Shopaholic” And as a result of my obsession with stores and malls and shopping my son has developed a strong dislike of girlie stores. So, we’re walking down the corridor and he looks at me and this is what comes from his mind, “You’ve been a really good mom today. Thank you.” Immediately, and somewhat sadly, I was suspicious. “Well, thanks son.” He continues “I mean you’ve been really calm and you bought me that cookie and well that was great. So thanks.” I’m even more suspicious at this point. “And you you know what I’m gonna do for you, as a reward for being such a great mom today? I’m going to let you into Victoria Secret’s and I’m going to be really good and calm. For you. As a reward.” Oh, I get it. The little perve! So I say, “Thanks, but I don’t need anything from Victoria Secret right now.” “No, really mom. I’ll be good. Go, buy yourself something nice and pink. You deserve it” He was looking at me very seriously now. So I called him on it. “You just want to go in there and look at girls in underwear! What do you think happens in there? Pillow fights?” “No! That’s not it” But he was trying hard to contain his smile now. And as we walk on by the VS I catch him craning his neck to look in.

Man I dig that little pervert.

Here’s an interesting fact about my life. I used to date this boy named Logan. (Logan is his SCA name. His real name is Andrew. Which is another interesting coincident). When Logan and I broke up I dated/married Steven. After my divorce I dated Andrew (that’s Andrew number three of my Andrew ex-boyfriends…). Then after Andrew I dated Seth. Now the interesting part: Logan and Steven live together now. AND Andrew and Seth live together now. It’s my life. A demented sitcom.

So, I went to the local SCA meeting here in Birmingham. For fifteen years straight I held various offices here in Iron Mountain. But I haven’t been to a meeting in maybe four or five years. But Logan was going, so I figured, “Why not?” It was really fun. I tried to convince Logan to let me pretend like I was a newbie. But he, rightly, said he didn’t think I could. And as we walked in most people knew me and called out my name. That felt good. Like returning to Cheers after being gone a while. I had thought I was all but forgotten over here in Meridies. It was class night and the class was on packing and preparing for Gulf Wars. A subject I know a little bit about. I had a pretty darn good time. Until a lady commented to me, “There are lots of folks here now for you to boss around” She said it with a good tone and she was smiling. Knowing this particular lady, I know she did not mean it as an insult or anything. But it struck me as funny. And just a little painful. I know I can be bossy. But it’s a little stingy being pointed out like that.….jeez.

My kid as Elvis: