To All Those Who Have Borrowed My Mother:

Gosh. It's a touchy subject. For everyone involved.



My mom is obsessed with kids. In my professional opinion, it has to do with her having such low self esteem and getting her self worth from children. It's unhealthy and I'm sure it stems from her having such a crappy husband and a ton of responsibility when she was growing up. Anyway.



My mom has had a number of kids that weren't technically her's live in her house, under her care. I will be the first to admit that my mom is not perfect. She's dramatic, (sometimes) judgemental, etc. But. She is a good mother. GOOD MOTHER. This is not an easy task. As any of us moms can attest to, being a good mom takes some work. A lot of work. Especially when there's not a supportive partner involved and you work full time while taking care of your parents.



The fact of the matter is this: There were times growing up when I felt that my mom cared more about other people's kids. I'm happy to say that I got over it quickly as I grew up, but it was there and something I had to deal with. There were double standards. I had to eat what she made for dinner, but for other kids, she'd make specific meals for them (even if it meant making 4 dinners). I had to work growing up. A lot. That wasn't the case for other people's children. I had to abide by her rules, I gave in to her guilt. I was well taken care of and developing nicely and now I know that those are the reasons why that sometimes, I got the shaft.



What is ironic is that now, years later, these same children of other people want to blame my mom. Or ignore my mom. Or pretend that she caused their issues. Yes, my mom is over bearing. Yes, she is dramatic. Yes, she talks a lot of shit. But the bare facts show that she loved each and everyone of them. She put herself out for all of them, those children of other people. She went to their sporting events, gave them money, changed houses to accomodate space needs. She fed them, protected them, and loved them as best as she could. And in the midst of all her faults, I can say that she is a GOOD MOM. Just because she may not have gotten to the children of the other people early enough does not mean that she didn't try. And she's still trying. She uses the phrase "my kids" still. I'd be lying to say it didn't bother me. But I also know that I'm blessed to have a mom that was willing to step up to the plate for other people's kids.

Holy crap, I'm almost 30!

So 29. TWENTY NINE. That's like thisclose to 30. THIRTY. Technically, I know I'm not old. My problem is that I remember sitting at my kitchen table during my senior year at OU with Meghan, talking about how much money we'll be making once we have real jobs, "even if it's just like $18k!" Irony strikes again. Obviously, that idea was wrong, but for once, I'm not complaining about being broke.

I've been out of high school for 10 years. I've been out of college for 6 years. I've been a mom for 3 years. Where has the time gone?

It seriously seems like yesterday that Krys and I drove down 13 with our heads out the windows, sporting sunglasses, while the rain pelted us in the face (at the time, we thought we were cool/funny - now I find that just plain uncomfortable and frankly, dangerous). I remember my first weekend at OU, walking uptown, free of parental control, wondering what the hell to do with myself. After what seemed like a really cool week later, I remember walking uptown after my college graduation, wondering wtf I was going to do with myself. Shortly thereafter, I remember driving to Charlotte with Krys and Amber, prepping myself for the "real world" in Florida. I met friends, became an "adult," had (too much) fun, and before I knew it, I was 25, able to rent a car legally. Next came Olivia, which is my greatest accomplishment yet (and will remain to be, until/unless I have more children, in which case they'll be pretty impressive too, I'm sure).

What happened to the times when I longed to be an adult? Isn't it funny how life works? I remember being so insulted by the label of "kid." I formed clubs, renouncing this label, working to show all the adults of the world how important and impactful we as "children" could be. Now, I'm constantly reminding myself not to "wish my life away" (a quote of my mama's) b/c time goes way too fast.

I've had some interesting birthdays. On my 10th birthday, my parents planned a huge surprise where the party started at my grandparents and moved to my house where they would unveil my new bedroom suite. Instead, my dad and grandpa got into a fist fight and the only thing I remember after that was my mom crying, and me crying, but in separate areas as to make sure we didn't make the other one feel worse. Then there was my 16th, which consisted of a surprise party by my mom, where a ton of people showed up only to be dead silent when I walked into the room. Already awkward enough at that age, it was ... well, it was something. 21. I remember that, but not completely (for obvious reasons). When I turned 23, it was my first birthday in Jax, and I didn't have many friends. I had escargo for the first time (not that bad, I'd probably eat it again if someone else paid) and hung out with people I knew from work (who were more than wonderful to put such an effort up for someone they knew so little about). Then the big one - 26. This was big for me because it was the first birthday I had as a mom. And contrary to my previous beliefs ("The fun part of my life is over once I become a mom!!!"), it was (and continues to be) my most favorite birthday ever. Not only could I celebrate MY years, but I could celebrate Olivia's life, which pretty much would have been impossible if it weren't for yours truly (and you are welcome, to all the future generations that my daughter will positively impact). Thanks to social networking (myspace) and some awesome friends (Chas and Amber), I had one of the most spectacular birthdays ever, even tho it mostly consisted of me sitting in my apartment, being a new mom, and welcoming old friends into our world (complete with a tampon for a candle in the cake that they brought - class, nothin' but).

I've heard from numerous people that 30s are fantastic. Supposedly, you're more secure as a person - socially, financially, professionally, spiritually, etc. I have my fingers crossed that all that is true for me. But let's back it up - technically, I'm 29, not 30. I still have one year left of my 20s... what to do with it.....

When I first thought about this question, to be honest, I thought I'd have a lot of things on my "Things To Do Before I'm 30" list. Surprisingly (and wonderfully), I feel complete. I don't feel like I missed out on anything. Isn't that incredible?

I made it through high school and somehow escaped my parents' crappy marriage for the most part unscathed. I graduated from OU. I moved away. I moved back. I have a great job. I have the uber most awesome kid I know (that came from ME). I have a spectacular boyfriend (even tho I like to complain about him). I have a fantastic support system that a lot of people lack. I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve all of this, but I believe that for the most part, I earned it. Life is hard. Life is not fair. Life is not what we think it will be. But opportunities are there. Hard work does pay off. Karma is a bitch, but only if you're a bitch to karma first.

I can't say I've been perfect. I can't say my life has been easy 100% of the time. I can say that I worked my balls off for what I have and the things that fell into my lap without planning turned out to be blessings after all. I'm proud to say that I have made decisions (some very hard decisions) that have allowed me to have a stellar life, to accomodate my basic needs while continuing on the amazing journey that has been my life.

I think everyone has a book they should write. I don't know anyone that doesn't have a story to tell, a miracle to talk about, an incredible series of events that should be documented. And thinking back on my last 29 years, I am lucky - uniquely blessed.

When I was around 7 years old, I remember sitting in the laudrymat parking lot in my mom's car, creating my long term plan (yep, psycho since birth). I wanted to be 5'6, 125 lbs, blonde, professionally successful, independent, and family oriented. At that point, I had no idea what life would be like - or what I was capable of. And yet, ironically (in a good way), I am all the things I planned on being - independent; professionally successful; not bad looking (altho anymore, that means a lot less to me than it did back when Barbie played a major role in my life); family oriented; and most importantly, HAPPY. I really am happy.

I'm not thrilled that times goes by so quickly - it's nice to just savor those moments sometimes, ya know? But I have no complaints. I have bills. I struggle with balancing my professional life with my personal life. I miss living near my friends. I think my family's a ton more crazy now than when I was 7. But all in all, I've done a damn good job. Look out 29, here I come!

White Trash Mom

This is the book I'm currently reading by Michelle Lamar. I'm not a fan of the title, but the principles inside sounds pretty good. Basically, it's a book bucking the idea that moms should and can be perfect. We should look great, be professionally successful, head up the PTA, and always have time for date night w/ the significant other. My first thought is that even though this topic interests me, I've not fell for this crazy image of what a mom should be like. Or have I?



"You're not a bad mother if the school has to call you because your kid has a negative balance for his school lunch account. You're not a bad mother if your kid is the last one picked up from school. You aren't the only one who feels like you are a bad mom if you don't have your kids signed up for ten different sports and a language class (or two)." Hm. One time, my babysitter picked up Olivia late from preschool and I still haven't gotten over the trauma. The school sent a letter home to me saying that if it happened again, I'd be assigned a fee. Then I cried, reflecting on my short-comings ("If only I could be a full-time mom, this wouldn't have happened!") If it were someone else in the situation, I would be convinced that they were being way too hard on themselves and that technically, it's not a big deal. But it IS! At least to me. Maybe I do fall into the trap of the image of what a perfect mother should look like...

The thing is - I'm going to fail. I'm not going to be the best mom. I'm not going to be the best partner, friend, or worker. Shit happens. What I need to remember is that I'm trying. I really am trying. And sometimes, that's all you can ask for.

Why does my head hurt constantly?

Lately, I've had a daily headache. It's not a migraine (thank God), but it's a constant throbbing. Alllll daaaaaayyyy looooonnnnnnggg. Monday-Friday. Weird how it goes away on weekends (I'm thankful for the break tho!).

Anyway, I've had a TON of stuff running through my mind lately and I can't seem to zero in on a blog topic. I have a mental list tho - Death, Daddies, Mindless work vs Major Thinking work, my grandpa, Obama, Books I'm reading, Things I'd Do if I could Do Whatever I want... the list goes on and on. I don't think that I can focus just on one topic tonight, and so I'm just gonna wing it (you're welcome, I know you're totally interested in the workings of Billie's brain).

I am a moderate liberal. I believe that we should be able to have guns (in a legal way). It's not the people (normally) that get the guns thru legal means that are poppin a cap in people's asses, ya know? Personally, I've chosen life, but would never infringe my beliefs on someone else, especially regarding something so personal. I think that if I can have a baby without being married (sin as it is), why should I be able to tell homosexuals they can't be legally "together?" I believe in separation of church and state (after a lot of thought about this one). If my president was a different, opposite religion or belief than what I was comfortable with, I wouldn't want those beliefs to affect my rights. I think we need better educational systems, but I also think that parents should be doing a better job raising their children. I guess what bothers me lately is that these very right wing Christian conservatives that are anti-Obama, anti-healthcare reform, anti-anything to help out the normal, struggling Americans are often the same people that are preaching Christianity (or some form of faith). Don't most religious icons preach tolerance and love?!?! How can you be one thing in one form, but the opposite in something else? I think the issue with a lot of people in this category is their lack of exposure to the "have nots."

Before college, I thought I was raised in the middle class. I was wrong (as many poor people are - it's hard to know that you're poor when everyone else around you is just as poor). After being exposed to some of my friends from college's families, I've realized that I was actually raised as part of the lower class (it coulda been worse, let me stress that. I've always had a roof over my head, food on the table, and love). I guess what has really helped to shape my political opinion has been the experience of myself and the people that are closest to me. Disclaimer: I feel (delusional as it may be) that I'm well on my way to the "haves" section of the room, and so I, just like everyone else, does not want to pay my money that I work hard for to people that do not need nor deserve it. For the folks that do deserve and need help, I see it as my obligation (and right) as a fellow citizen, no, a fellow human being to ensure that I do all that I can to help meet the basic human needs of my fellow man.

I have more to say on this subject and once fired up, I could go for years, but let me leave you with this: IF I could do whatever I wanted without repercussions, one of the things on my list would be to make EVERYONE live a life (or maybe just a year) without priviledge. This means no help from family, to live in a place that doesn't see economic standing or status, to be purely, completely on your own for everything you may ever achieve. This includes a job with no healthcare, no babysitting discounts, no nice salary or working environment, nor parents footing the bill for higher education. After seeing how rough life can actually be, I can't imagine anyone truly thinking that keeping the rich rich and the poor poor is a good or fair or loving option.

I am her.

Over 2 years ago, I'd find myself sitting in the parking lot at the community center waiting for meetings to begin. On most days, I'd watch the preschoolers come gushing through the doors with parents trying to keep up. I always wanted to be one of those parents that were able to offer their child a well rounded daycare. For some reason, the "community center" has symbolized something really good in my mind - I mean, doesn't it sound great?!?! Community? Center? See what I mean?

Anyway, today after I picked Olivia up from her 4th day of school, we came flooding out the doors with her little legs carrying her as fast as they could go (she's still not the most balanced child so movement this quickly always looks a bit unsteady). As she ran down the sidewalk, with her mom in tow, trying to keep up, I had one of those moments where I find myself in the exact position I wanted to be in years before. Today is good.

Has it been 3 years already?!?!

Every year, there are a few dates that always make me reflect back on my journey as a mom - August 20th, Liv's birthday; December 20th, the day I found out I was pregnant; and the month of March, when I moved back to Ohio. Without fail, I always go back to the very beginning of when I found out that I was pregnant. I relive that day often, with every moment burnt into my brain. I remember putting my head between my legs when the doctor told me I was pregnant. I remember breaking my keychain trying to get in my car after the dr appointment. I remember getting lost in my own neighborhood because I couldn't see or think. I remember texting my friends, demanding that they leave their works immediately to meet me for an emergency. I remember going to Stephanie's house and crying on Jeremy as soon as he opened the door, unable to speak, just handing him papers. I think I remember every moment of that day. Lots of tears, confusion, and a spark of excitement (I bought the What to Expect When You're Expecting book that day, even with such shock, it's kinda hard to not be excited when you see what's happening, even though I was still completely terrified).

Those first 4 months in Jacksonville were eventful, to say the least. I wasted no time in prepping for the future, imagining what the heck was going to happen to my life. At the time, I had been through a rough year and a half and finally felt like I was getting back to normal when I got knocked up. It was like never-ending trauma. In March, I moved back to Ohio and lived with my college roomate and her husband (rent free). Although I appreciated their generosity and affections, it was an uncomfortable stage of life for me. To go from living on my own with my own space and successful career to starting over in Ohio, a place overrun with corn fields and SNOW, shacked up in an extra room in my friends' new house was less than ideal. That summer, I was so hot, SO HOT. I cried a lot because I felt fat and ugly and was unable to swim due to lack of private beaches and my insanely huge body (I don't really care much about swimming, but when you're carrying an extra 50 lbs in the dead of summer, anything that would take some weight off and allow me to cool down seemed like HEAVEN). For what seemed like eternity, I lived in Columbus but drove to Dayton daily for work. I had transferred here with the same company I was with in Florida, only to find out that not only was I demoted, but I had lost my insurance and paid time off... Not the type of info I was looking for at the time. The day I applied for Medicaid SUCKED. I sat in the office of Job and Family Services, the only white person, alone, pregnant, confused, scared, and humiliated. I had a college degree with a decent job - how did I end up there? Eventually, I started getting interviews with other companies. My favorite position was with Modis, and IT Staffing firm based out of Jax, but with a remote office in Columbus (irony). I went through 3 interviews, stuffing myself in my nice clothes, trying my best to hide my baby bump (who's gonna hire a pregnant lady?). After the 3rd interview, I learned that I did not get the job and it was around that time that I gave up on believing the things would somehow work out.

I kept trying, however, and eventually landed a job with the American Cancer Society that allowed me to live in Athens, close to my family (the purpose of moving back to OH) and work from home (an incredible opportunity for me at that time). I took a pay cut, I moved into a tiny, run down apartment, but at least I was stably employed with my own space. I worked hard on getting Olivia's room decorated and set up. Jake and I would spend evenings in there folding her clothes, smelling her baby stuff (Jake did that, not me, so that he could get used to the scent of a child), and dreaming of when there'd actually be a kid to put in that crib! We'd lay on the couch, watching Law and Order, with Jake's head on my belly and Olivia kicking him from inside (shoulda known then that she'd be a handful!). Eventually, the day came for me to go to the hospital to be induced. As I packed up our stuff, I was so... indecribably ready. I had money saved, a job that would allow me time off, my own place, baby equipment EVERYWHERE, and most importantly, I wanted to be free from those extra 50 lbs (it made doing simple things extremely complicated - I couldn't fit ANYWHERE!). I sat on my porch, throwing the ball for Jake, informing him that he'd be staying in Glouster with my family while I went to have this kid that would be bunking with us permanently from here on out. I called Stef to tell her I was going to the hospital. I looked around at my apartment for the last time as just me, Billie.

I showed up late to the maternity ward at O'Bleness (typical of me). After setting me up in a room, they started the pitocin, thinking that by the same time that next night, we'd have our newest addition. Instead, it was 48 hours later when Olivia finally made her appearance. During labor, Amber, Meghan, and my mom stayed with me, feeding me ice chips, rubbing my back, holding my hand, and watching all of the disgusting stuff that happens to a woman giving birth. I know that no matter what happens in life, I'll ALWAYS appreciate them for being with me during the most important moments of my life. When they finally decided to perform a c-section, I was terrified. My mom came into the operating room with me, but for those first few moments, I was there alone with the nurses. I remember begging them to tell me that everything would be ok, and instead of positive assurance, I was met with the loudest, most deafening silence I've EVER heard. They strapped down my hands and put a curtain under my chin so I couldn't see or move (I'm claustrophobic, so that part REALLY sucked). I hadn't taken Lamaz, so instead, I sang a commercial jingle (Beep beep, dot com, shop for cars online) over and over and over. After what seemed like forever (and a joke from the dr about "oh, you thought it was a girl???"), they showed Olivia to me, holding her up on my right side. All I could do was cry. Immediately, all of my worries, frustrations, anxiety vanished. All I could think about was holding that tiny being, name still unknown. My mom cut the umbilical cord and my friends stayed with Olivia to make sure that she wouldn't be switched (I watch too much Law and Order, I know). When they finally took me to my room, they brought the baby out immediately. I was in awe of her. She was so tiny, so perfect, sooooo tiny. When she was born, the discovered that she was Polydactyly. Normally, anything abnormal grossed me out, but this time, it seemed like such a miniscule thing that I didn't even notice until the nurse mentioned it. That night, I couldn't sleep, I just laid watching her, wondering how I could've produced something so precious.

The next few days were filled with flowers, visitors, learning, and sleep. It's amazing how birth can just take the life right outta ya (haha). I enjoyed the nurses, I learned to change a diaper, I finally named her (after 3 days of indecisiveness). The day we went home, I didn't really want to leave. It was so comforting to have those nurses close for those middle of the night feedings and to answer any questions I might have without making me feel like an idiot. As a volunteer wheeled us out of the hospital, I was disappointed to find Olivia's first breath was a smokey one, thanks to the smoker next to the hospital exit (I'm still bitter about this - and it just adds to my reasons to quit smoking). My mom drove us to our house to pick up a few extra supplies. While there, I put Olivia in her crib and was AMAZED at how tiny she was. Everything I'd been waiting on had finally arrived.

We spent the first 3 days at my mom's house. Those days weren't my favorite, so I mentally skip over that part. Once we came back home, I was too scared to drive for the longest time. Thankfully, I had stocked up on supplies pre-baby and wasn't forced to go to the store for another week. Our first time in WalMart, I felt like a crazy person, trying to control myself from yelling at people that got too close ("Don't you see there's a baby here?!?!").

I remember the Notts coming to visit and me forgetting how to work a bottle (I was nursing so I don't think I'd used a bottle yet) and how embarrassed I was when Roger had to show me how to work the bottle's nipple. I remember the nights of crying, the 3rd night especially when I finally gave her a binky (who knew what trauma that would later cause). I remember sleeping on the couch a lot with her on my chest during the days. At night, I eventually gave up on trying to stay awake throughout the night for her to nurse and finally succumbed to sleeping in a recliner with her (it allowed me some sleep which was much appreciated). I remember hiding in the closet when her umbilical cord came off and watching Ryckman dispose of it. I remember seeing my Jax friends via webcam for the first time with Olivia. She was 5 weeks old on her first airplane to visit her Florida family. I let the flight attendent take her to the front of the plane to show her friends while I settled in (later thinking of how easy it coulda been for her to take off with my child!). I remember Stef and Jeremy trying to help soothe her during a crying fit or 2 during that visit. I remember how impressed and pleased I was that she slept through a manicure and pedicure during that visit. I remember the first time she rolled over - I wasn't even in the room! I'd ran back to my bedroom for something, leaving her and Jake on the floor. When I returned, she was upside down and backwards... I still wonder if Jake somehow moved her. :-) I remember putting her in her bouncy in the bathroom with the tub running because the noise soothed her.

That first year, almost 2 years, we remained in our tiny apartment, the three of us. I remember being frustrated at times, but those memories are fuzzy. What I remember clearly is playing outdoors, eating new foods, singing and doing crazy dances, knowing that if she was older, she'd be totally embarrassed by me. Our family was complete, even though it was only me as the parent.

The last year has been a whirlwind. Olivia has started daycare and will be going to preschool in September. We've moved into a bigger house, aquired some additional pets, and Rick. She's walking, talking, dancing, screaming, running, jumping, singing, and being a typical 3 year old.

So 3 years and nine months later, here I am, happy, successful, loved, not so terrified, and comfortable with my life. There was a time or two that I didn't think things would work out, but I'm happy to say that I was incredibly wrong. Sometimes I read www.truemomconfessions.com and see that people often post on there how they were scared to have a kid and after reading all of the complaints by the parents, they're even more terrified or just completely against reproducing. If there was one thing I could say to those people, or anyone that is/was/will be in a situation similar to my own, it would be that sometimes, the best things are the most challenging things and that nothing worth anything comes easy.

Happy Birthday Olivia!!!

Faith

This is an exerpt of a letter I'd recently written to a friend.

So you totally called me out on the not telling you about Jesus thing – this is a hot topic for me (and always has been). My faith is … unsteady, to say the least. Here’s my story:

I was raised in church. My mom and her side of the family were devout, old school Christians (totally anti-alcohol, my grandparents weren’t advocates of dancing, rest on Sundays, etc). I went like 3 years (literally) without missing Sunday school. I went to church Sunday mornings, evenings, and Wednesday nights. I read the Bible 3 times before I finished high school. As I got older, I taught Vacation Bible School classes, played the piano for worship, led the singing, did the “special music” (which consisted of me singing church songs into a karaoke machine), anything and everything (we had a small church so volunteers were few and far between). Eventually I grew resentful of having to do so much for the church without “getting much back in return” (meaning that there was nothing to engage anyone of my age group – mostly b/c I was pretty much the only one in my age group). My family constantly reminded me that I was “different” b/c I was a child of God – which is fine, but when you’re in the midst of puberty, the last thing you want is constant reminders of how you’re different and will never fit in. I rebelled in high school, and then got involved in the Navigators on OU’s campus. They were an awesome group that exposed me to the freedom found in Christ. Instead of church being something that listed out what I couldn’t or shouldn’t do, it became a wonderful reminder of how to fully experience life. That lasted for a while, then I started hanging with some less than well behaved friends and that kinda went away. As much as I loved and appreciated my walk w/ Christ, I liked to fit in and party even more.

During college, I fluctuated between longing for a relationship with God and wanting to just have a good time. Occasionally, I’d venture up to Galbreath Chapel to have some alone time w/ God (I cried a lot there, ashamed of myself). I felt guilty a lot of the time and decided that I couldn’t have any kind of good relationship with God because of my less than Christian-like behavior. While I was in Jax, I struggled still. I went to Celebration Church sometimes… I remember my first mother’s day in Jax, I cried during the whole service b/c I missed my mom so much. Throughout my entire life, guilt has played as much of a role as faith. To me (for the longest time, anyway… I’m getting better at things now), guilt and faith went hand in hand…

When I got pregnant, I was totally at a loss. I felt guilty, pissed, GUILTY (for being such a bad person, for bringing a child into the world to have a slut mom, for shaming my family, etc….). Throughout my pregnancy, I taped the verse (Jeremiah 29:11) to my fridge and read it daily “For I know the plans I have for you, declared the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I started going back to church, trying to get myself straight before I had a kid. One of my biggest focuses at the time was to get forgiveness - from God, my mom, myself… One day, I just decided that it wasn’t fair to me or my future kid to NOT forgive myself, which is when I decided that Olivia’s middle name would be Grace. Serves as a nice reminder, ya know?

When I moved back to OH, I struggled with EVERYTHING. Moving back to OH, no home of my own, no secure or family friendly job, no partner, no idea of what the hell was happening SUCKED. I ended up reading a lot in the New Testament (can’t remember book/chapter) about Faith. I thought if I studied enough, prayed enough, hoped enough, things would work out and be easier for me. After what seemed like my 10,000^th job interview that I didn’t get, I gave up. I became resentful and apathetic. “If God isn’t going to help me, then I guess it’s up to me.” Ironically, just now as I was searching the internet for the chapter I used to read all the time, I came across Hebrews 11 (39 These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. 40 God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.). So I guess I’m not the only one that’s felt screwed in their faith.

Anyway. Present day. I think about God and my faith (and lack thereof) A LOT. I take Liv to church occasionally, but I find myself questioning things more often than I used to. A virgin birth? Really? I also think that my view on God has been a bit disturbed due to the fact that I was raised thinking that God was here to PUNISH me (not to be my friend or give me true freedom, as I now think is more true than just being the Punisher). Not to mention that the comparison between my relationship with God should be similar to that with my dad (which my dad is a total asshole) didn’t seem right to me. Soooo. I guess I just didn’t mention it to you before b/c I didn’t really know what to say. Plus I’ve always been paranoid about talking to other people about such things, since I definitely don’t have all the answers nor the behavior that reflects those beliefs.

I’m reading a book (slowly) called 12 “Christian beliefs” that can Drive You Crazy. They consist of things like “Give your problems to God and you won’t have any.” Mostly stuff that I was raised hearing – and although it sounds true and good, God doesn’t automatically fix your life so easily – we have to work for what we get. I guess what I get confused about is … it has to be a team effort. God can’t just control everything we do or everything that happens to us – He loves us enough to give us freedom of choice… Just seems like a complicated relationship that I don’t necessarily feel like I deserve (told ya, I still struggle w/ guilt a lot). Another thing in that book is something about how many people think that they must change their behaviors before they’re able to have a good relationship with God (including me) but that’s not necessarily true. If we start working on cultivating the inside of us and our relationship with Christ, the behaviors will eventually follow (which makes sense, but again, not something I’m sure I could do, or want to do, or know how to do….).

So there ya have it – the history on my Walk with Christ. I will say that I really enjoy hearing your discoveries that you find in your journey – keep updating me (you make me think, which is good)!

Cigarettes

I am on day 6 of being cigarette smoke free. I am ANGRY!!!

First, let's talk about why I'm quitting.

1. It's taboo.
2. It's horrible for my health.
3. It sets a horrible example for Olivia.
4. It stinks.
5. It makes my teeth yellow.
6. It's expensive.
7. It'll eventually kill me.

All those are fine reasons. And yet, I'm still PISSED!!! I quit smoking for Olivia. Then I started again. The problem is: I like to smoke. It's a disgusting, dirty habit that I love. It symbolizes relaxation and "me time." A glass of wine and a cigarette is my idea of a perfect time. Now, I'm having to reevaluate all that crap.

I'm currently not drinking either - it's too hard to keep myself from smoking while I'm drinking. For now, it's better safe than sorry, however I hope to eventually be able to enjoy a drink or 2 without the intense urge for a smoke.

So, to make me feel better, here's a list of reasons why I'm happy to be quitting:

1. I'll be saving $572 this year. That's enough for a small vacation.
2. I'll be putting less stress on my body and hopefully will stop breathing hard just looking at a hill.
3. My health is improving.
4. Olivia won't think of me as her "smokey mom."
5. Rick won't be able to bitch at me for smoking, spending money on cigs, or smelling yucky.

Babies

I don't think anyone can be truly prepared to have kids. Ever. The idea of "waiting til you are ready" makes absolutely no sense to me. Even if you are financially blessed, there are some things that money will not fix, nor even make easier.

My friend (or rather, friend of a friend) recently had a kid. I love hearing her birth story, seeing all of the pictures of the newest addition to her life. Of course, it makes me nastalgic for when Olivia was first born. I was in no hurry to leave the maternity ward - those nurses were WONDERFUL. I felt safe and protected and at ease there. Unfortunately, my mom would not leave my side and she was anything but relaxing. So for her sanity (and thus, mine), I chose to leave a day early to go to her house to rest up.

When I first pulled up to her house, I got out of the car first to greet my firstborn - Jake (the dog). He had been so sad without me, it was a wonderful reunion. When I got the baby out of the car for Jake to meet, he was unsure about what was happening and probably thought it was just a temporary hurdle. Hehehe.... poor guy.

I continued to look pregnant for days. In order to sit up from a laying down position, I had to grab onto my thigh and pull myself up with my leg. My nipples leaked. All in all, I was a hot mess, but not at all conscious of that fact. I slept a lot, whenever she slept. At night, I was nothing short of terrified. Trying to figure out how to safely feed a TINY baby with your boobies in pitch black is an inimidating situation, to say the least. My mom was supposed to help me, but she slept in every friggin morning and instead, the only thing at her house that I found noteworthy was the fact that I had to climb stairs with half of my stomache still cut open. Wasn't fun, and if I could do it over again, I woulda went home (to MY HOUSE) immediately, despite her guilt inducing crying fits.

When I did get to go home, I was so scared to drive. I didn't want to wreck her and with something so tiny and fragile, it was hard to know for sure that I wouldn't do something to break her. I remember laying her in her crib for the first time. She was sooooo tiny! I'd spent so much time in her room, preparing, thinking, waiting, and then there she was!


Before heading off to the hospital for my induction, I remember calling Steph and just being... unsure, so ready to be done with being soooo fat, but so... oblivous to what my world would end up being. I sat on my front porch, throwing the ball for Jake, explaining to him yet again that soon, a tiny thing would be in our house requiring my attention. He ignored me (as usual). What's funny is that I remember throwing the ball for him that day so vividly, you would think it was a significant event in my life (and maybe it was).


I spent the next few weeks sleeping and feeding her. Jake and Olivia would nap on the couch and I'd creep around, taking millions of pictures. Ryckman was down when her umbilical cord came off (thank GOD!!!) and he took care of disposing of that yuckiness. I remember he was so intimidated by her tininess, and now he has his own daughter! While he was down, he set up the webcam for us so Steph, Jeremy and Krystal could see us. I wanted to cry soooo hard when I first saw them on my computer screen (another extraordinarily vivid memory). It was then that I realized how bad I was looking.


Having a kid is weird. One day, you're one person taking care of yourself for your own sake, and the next minute, you're multiple people, taking care of yourself not just for your own sake, but you and the other person!


Olivia threw a multi-hour fit today. My head wanted to explode. In my mind, I'm thinking "if this isn't birth control, I don't know what is." What's weird is that my reality is this: Even with all her screaming, drama, sleepless nights, demanding behavior, diva attitude, and the ridiculous amount of worrying that I tend to do, I wouldn't change a damn thing. What's crazier is that I'll probably have another kid or 2. As much as they make me wanna scream and just check out mentally, the RIO on this investment is well worth the trouble.

Camping

So I'm handwriting this blog while camping. Rick and Liv are in the tent while the dogs and I hang outside. The weather is perfect The notebook I'm using was once a journal of my childhood self's - the irony of its contents not lost on me.

This day started off rocky. It doesn't help that sometimes frankly, I'm a bitch. Once I have expectations, any deviation from them makes me pissy. At the end of the day though, my baby asked to go to bed alone in our dark, yet fantastic tent. Rick quickly followed, giving me some alone time by the fire.

In high school, at the peak of my walk with God, I would write down my prayers, confessing my sins and then submit them to the campfire before heading to bed. Now, some 10 years later, I'm blogging the "old fashioned way" - unsure of any faith I may have remaining. Funny how life works.

I've been contemplating the theme of my blog. Although I love to make people laugh (often at my own expense), I feel like I have more to offer. It may just be me (and it probably is), but I think my life is not only interesting, but worth documenting. So here is my blog: A tribute to the wild, confused, guilt stricken, fun loving, delightful, sinful, grace needing/grace giving, upside down, inside out daughters, mothers, sisters, friends, wives, lovers, all American, completely global, 110% women out there who think no one will ever relate to them. Here I am, disenfranchised, disengaged, unrelatable (but really all too common), in all my glory, sharing my world with whomever may have too much time on their hands on any given day. I'm not special or unique, but I represent all those with the same life challenges, corrupt and unfair pasts, and hopefully brighter futures. Here's to us - Cheers.

L.G.

Life is good.

I spend a lot of time complaining on this blog. Famous singers/song writers often say they are most creative at their darkest times. Maybe that's true for all of us. Or maybe we're just more motivated to share our hardships than we are our celebrations (it is fun to bitch sometimes, no?).

Life is hard. But if it weren't difficult at times, we'd never be able to appreciate the truly good times.

Olivia will be 3 in August. It seems as though these past few years have flown by. Initially, I wasn't looking forward to the idea of motherhood. Once I had the privilege of meeting my daughter however, my mind took a different focus. I am so blessed to have such a beautiful, smart, and (honestly, for the most part, even though I like to complain about her) very well behaved young girl. She's leaving the stages of her baby-ness. It makes me sad and I wish I could hold her while she sleeps on my chest again, but everyday she does something else that I'm sure I'll be missing just as much within a few short years. She puts up with me and our crazy life. She trusts me completely and really loves me for no reason at all. I think that the blind faith held by most young children is enviable to us older folk, and frankly, something I strive for on a daily basis. Belief was a lot easier to capture during our more innocent years.

Yesterday, Rick helped me clean the house. This is not a new phenomenon, and I know I take his willingness to help for granted a lot of the time. Yesterday though, he cleaned the entire bathroom all by himself! He used bleach, cleaned the counter, even had it smelling nice, all without mentioning it to me once! Usually, I'd at least expect a "What do I do with the soap?" question, but no, he handled it all on his own. I know this isn't a huge feat. I also know by talking to other women that many of us do not have partners that are willing to take on domestic tasks. I struggle with letting him help me. The other night, I was cooking dinner and cleaning and my answer to his "what can I do to help?" question was "get out of my way." Instead, he went to another room to clean up. I'm starting to realize that while I do a lot, it is often by choice. If letting Rick put away the dishes (even if it's not always done correctly by my standards) gives me a chance to relax and take a break, I should let him! This is something I've just realized and am going to try to implement in our lives. I've never enjoyed needing help. I absolutely HATE asking for help. I've had to do it so much throughout my life and have been blessed by friends that are willing to help me, even when I was resentful about being helped in the first place. But Rick seems to be in this for the long haul.

This morning, as we were picking up cat litter and other trash that the racoon had torn out last night, with the dogs and cats running wildly thoughout the house, while Olivia cried for help with the potty, while my phone was ringing and everything else seemed to be going to hell in a handbasket, I thought about how much Rick must love us. Or how completely, horrible, terribly infrigginsane he must be to put up with so much chaos.

Either way, life is good.

Family

God gives us our relatives - thank God we can choose our friends.- Ethel Watts Mumford

Girl Time

As most chicks will admit, it is very hard finding girlfriends. VERY HARD. I have been lucky in life, however, and have made a handful of really good friends (girls) that I love. Unfortunately, they seem to be forever and a day away. At this current moment, I feel that if I do not hang out with some of my friends soon, this woman (me!) will be homocidal.



I've spent part of the past few days wondering how more women don't end up completely mentally broken or homicidal. It seems that even though we've gained equal rights, men have yet to fulfill their end of the bargain. I am thankful for my right to vote, work, etc... however it seems that as more responsibility (priviledge?) was given to women, the better off the men became. So now, not only are we still raising the children (whether you're a single parent or not, women do the brunt of the "work"), taking care of our parents and extended family, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, dishes, and nurturing whatever seems to be around us, we are also charged with bringing home a paycheck, wjtb work takes away valuable hours of our lives. Don't get me wrong - I like , maybe even love, my job. This is not my plea to become a stay at home mom (although I doubt I'd have any extra free time even if I were). I am just ... stunned by the responsibility I face on a daily basis. As a worker, I want to do my job to the best of my ability and truly succeed professionally. As a mom, I want to make sure I spend quality time with my child, while teaching her right from wrong, disciplining her when necessary, and making sure that she knows she is my #1. As a girlfriend, I want to be happy and loving and not the stereotypical "nagging" and never satisfied woman. As a regular person, I want my house cleaned, food on the table, pets cared for, and my regular living environment taken care of. Trying to do all of this while retaining my sanity, at this point, seems impossible. How do people live like this?!?! I enjoy my time with my daughter. I can't handle a dirty house. I love my boyfriend and want him to be satisfied with our relationship. Where does that leave me? Drinking a glass of wine and blogging alone on the back deck while my house gets progressively dirtier and the boyfriend naps - seems to be the answer to that question.



Here's another question I do not have the answer to - Is this it? Is that what I have been waiting for? Don't get me wrong, for me to complain is a bit ... offensive to people out there that do not have the fantastic life that I know I live. But dude, I am tired. And grouchy. And filled with guilt that I'm never doing enough and the things I am doing will never be done to the best of my ability - who has the time???



I don't know if it's just today, but I'm unhappy. I'm unrested. I'm frustrated and ingrateful. All I want is a night alone with my friends where I can laugh and tell stories, and bitch and complain, and just do NOTHING but hang out like a normal person, not like a girlfriend or mom or worker or housecleaner, just me.



If this was anyone else's blog, I'd think "understandable, I get what you're saying," but because it's mine, I just feel like a bitch.

Things I Feel Like Complaining About:

1. Why is it that no matter how often I clean, it is NEVER clean in my house?!?! Who the hell decided that women are supposed to work, cook meals, do laundry, clean the house, take care of any person that happens to be blessed with her presence, be professionally successful, be a wonderful wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend, and STILL somehow, somewhere find time for herself. At this point, my fantasy is coming home to a clean, empty, quiet house with Law and Order, wine, and a cool breeze blowing through my hair. Pathetic, I know.
2. My mom used to tell me that in most relationships, there's always one person that is primarily the "giver". WTF is that about? Honestly, I've been both in relationships so I kind of see how it can happen, but being on either side consistently and for a long time is ANNOYING!!! When I was on the receiving end, it somehow (this is so ... sexist, I know) seemed extremely pathetic to be receiving constant demonstrations of affection. Now here I am on the other side of the spectrum, wondering when recognition and appreciation will pop up... if ever.
3. Although I like being in charge sometimes, I do NOT like having to be asked for each and everything. "Where should I put the trash?" "Can you check to see if the food is done?" "How should I clean the living room?" Really? Are these serious questions that you can't answer on your own? Do you really need instruction from me to figure out how to wipe your ass? What is happening here?
4. Being asked to do things without being given the tools or flexibility to do them is another annoying factor in my life currently. You say you want an apple. I can go pick you apples, however instead of agreeing to this, you ask for a detailed outline of how those apples will be picked, who will be involved, why they're being picked, so on and so forth. Really?
5. Guilt trips. Anyone that's familiar with my family understands what I may be referring to. How a conversation can go to "We're heading out to eat" to "I feel like you blame me for everything that's wrong with the world because you don't come to see me more than once a week nor call more than once a day..." is beyond me. Who are these people? Why are they delusional? Why must they push their insecurities and insanities upon others who are barely getting by on the sanity thing themselves?
6. Why is it that no matter how much money I make, I'm still broke? HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN? It is the most frustrating, humiliating, mind boggling thing I can think of. I know that the more money one makes, the higher expenses seem to get, but when thinking about my own situation, I cannot name one less bill I had when making significantly less money than what I have now... Is this some type of conspiracy to keep the poor folk poor? If so, it's working!

I'm sure there'll be more to come, but at least now I feel a bit more satisfied.

Guilt

It seems like I always have some form of guilt about something. It's been like this since I was little - one of the hazards of my upbringing.

I've been reading this book called 12 Christian Beliefs that Can Drive You Crazy. I think some of these beliefs are what feed my guilt. To clarify, the things listed in the book aren't necessarily biblical beliefs, but assumptions that many Christians may make that seem biblical. For example, one of my favorites is "Give your problems to God and everything will be much better." I understand the basic principle - try not to worry and rely on God to get you thru the tough times, however not only is that easier said than done, but it's also not a cure-all for any and every challenge that pops up in life. Just by praying and saying you're giving your worries to God does not mean that your life will automatically improve and that your worries will disappear. In fact, believing that is the case can drive one to the brink of insanity and self hatred ("if I still feel depressed/worried/stressed, I must not be giving it all to God, which means that I have some sort of problem" - adding to the already stressful situation).

Although I think my family has good intentions, guilt has been an ingrained emotion throughout my life. My mom was never mad, only "disappointed." I was given the freedom to chose most of my decisions, however the implications of how what I chose could or would affect others was always presented to me in a very guilt inducing manner. Taking on responsibility for others' feelings and well-being seems to be a genetic trait that has been passed down through the women of my family for a while now. My hope is to break this cycle and allow Olivia the freedom to taking care of herself first, guilt free.

Guys Whom Have Had the Pleasure of Dating Yours Truly

First, I guess I should give you some background. I'm usually the one in my group of friends that is single. Chronically single, some may say. It's not something I've minded, though I won't pretend that I was always comfortable when out with my "coupled" friends, nor will I say I was never lonely, or curious about the whole "love thing." I'm picky. I also like to think I'm mentally healthy, knowing that I do not need someone to complete me. I can't say I've not dated some real losers, but I also can't say I was everyone's ideal partner either. Anyone that was able to put up with my craziness for an extended amount of time deserves some type of positive recognition. I've stopped dating guys for weird reasons (arms too hairy, underwear not my preferred style, etc...), but I've never regretted any of those reasons. In fact, I don't think I have many regrets about my love life, other than the fact that I gave "love" (for lack of a better word) to some men that just didn't deserve it (what woman hasn't though, right?).

For the sake of sparing feelings and other people's privacy, these dudes will not be identified by any more than a nickname (created by me). :-) Hehehehe.....

*** This will no doubt contain much more information than anyone would ever want to know***

First kiss: M. was one year older than me in school and he kissed me in band class when I was 14. I immediately wanted to throw up and was extremely disappointed in the entire experience.

Shorty: I thought he was the coolest thing since jarred pickles (b/c bread is stupid) and he eventually liked me too. It was my first and only high school "romance." We dated on and off for most of my high school career and surprisingly, it was me who finally ended things for good. Before the last break up, there were numerous smaller ones, mostly revolving around the topic of sex (he wanted it, I was saving myself for marriage!!!). At one point during one of our "breaks," he took the virginity of another girl from our school. I heard all about it the next Monday during classes - about how he hung her undies from his rear view mirror and actually did a celebration dance immediately following the act. I believe the straw that actually broke the camel's back, so to speak, was when we were making out and he reminded me of a tiny, tiny person that completely disgusted me. After that, my obsession died.

Tall as Balls - This was my main college "romance." It lasted for the majority of my time at OU, consuming my first 2 years of college. He was an athlete, with smooth words and a friendly demeanor. I would cry at night in our dorm room, listening to Brandy or Monica's love songs while my roommates tried to sleep, just hoping that one day, he'd love me as much as I thought I loved him. Some highlights of this relationship include:

* Once I stayed in his hotel room with him (he was kicked out of school briefly for grades) and the next morning, had to take a taxi back to my house. The taxi driver inquired about my rates.

* I had a skin infection on my face that I thought at the time was herpes (turned out it wasn't, but until I learned differently, I totally freaked out). I saw him out that weekend and took a swing at him that was immediately blocked by his friend - who promptly got bitch slapped by yours truly.

We eventually were able to become friends, but needless to say, he's not one of my BFFs.

The Choker: My first "adult" relationship. We met at work. I wasn't initially attracted to him, but he grew on me after the first time we hung out recreationally. Our romance was horribly intense and seemed to happen really fast. To be honest, I believe that most of those intense emotions were left over from the partying we were doing on the weekends. The rush of the buzz, the beach, the whirlwind of people and friends around us... It all just added up to be this fierce, fast event that went as quickly as it came. To make a long and complicated story short and simple, the relationship deteriorated fast once the "fun" was replaced with reality. Eventually, altercations got physical (which is why I call him the choker). I remember calling my friend the next day to confess to her that I had become "one of those women that allowed that stuff to happen to them" and how broken and useless I felt. Luckily, that was the first and hopefully the last time I will ever feel so low. Ironically, I heard from The Choker within recent months and he apologized for being a less than stellar boyfriend. Somehow, I can honestly say I have no hard feelings.

The Donkey: This is my way of being nice and not calling him the asshole. We met at one of my work events and I found him pretty darn attractive. We hung out at a more reasonable pace than that of The Choker and I. It was the first relationship I'd considered having since becoming a mother, so I was extremely apprehensive, in an excited way. Our story was short and pretty sour. He was ultimately a very rude, unhappy guy that liked to push his unhappiness onto anyone in the area. He was a funny guy, but it was almost constantly 100% mean type of funny. He wasn't comfortable at all with dating someone who had a child. We did most of our communicating through text and email and so one day, when I had reached my limit, I emailed him a very mean, honest email to tell him not to bother talking to me ever, ever again. I'm not mean like that very often and when I am, it's quickly followed by some massive guilt. Not this time - a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders and I not only felt justified, but validated. Quite a while later, he emailed an apology to me, telling me that he was only so mean because he was just very unhappy with himself at that point in his life. While I understand his words, I'm not regretful at all about how things turned out.

My Love: My current beau. :-) I'm not one of those people who is comfortable at all with talking nice about their partner. I often find it awkward, alienating for others, and just mostly bullshit. This is my one time exception. I never ever ever EVER thought I would find someone that is so perfect for me. When I found out I was pregnant with Olivia, my fears were confirmed - how could I find a guy that would be perfect not only for me, but for my child too???? Funny how things work out... We knew each other when we were very young (pre-school age type stuff) because our families were friends. As we got older, we weren't close at all and I just saw him as that little boy that I loved to tease. He tells me that he stopped by some of my apartments during my college years and hung out, but my memories of those days are hit and miss. The next time I remember seeing him was in town in all his grown up hotness. I was with my friend Dave at the time and I remember telling Dave how impressed/attracted I was. A few myspace messages later and here we are! I can't begin to describe the ways in which we're perfect for each other - it's such a surprising find and I feel lucky to say that I have what I think most people long for and many people never find. I'm able to be the same in front of him as I'd be alone - I'm not ashamed of singing and dancing through the house, or eating crazy food concoctions while he questions my sanity. I love hearing him snore and trying to get his limp body off of me when he does his "tests" to make sure I'd be able to move him if he somehow died on top of me (we are weird, I already know). A few weeks ago, he was holding me upside down, pretending to hump me while I screamed for mercy. It was then I realized that maybe we really are meant to be, that maybe I've actually found that one person that complements my life perfectly. Good thing I kissed all those frogs, eh? :-)

Random Billie Facts

So I've been thinking about things to blog about and it's actually harder to pick a topic than I imagined.  This time, I'm going to mimic the 25 Things About Me thing that was going around Facebook a while back.

1. I can't throw up solids.  I had surgery when I was a junior at OU and haven't thrown up anything beyond stomach acid since then (which really sucked when I got food poisoning after dining in an Italian restaurant in Mexico).
2. I use the word "republican" as an insult, even though I don't' really mean it.
3. Sometimes I wish I had a penis so I could do cool stuff with it (put it in random places, spell words with pee, etc...).
4. I honestly disagree with vegetarians.  I believe meat was created to be enjoyed deliciously.  If I could convert them all, I would.
5. I experimented with drugs in college and don't regret any of it (it came in handy during child birth when I needed to keep reminding myself I was numb b/c of drugs - been there, done that before!).  I do worry that Olivia will do the same stuff and that she won't be as lucky to not get hurt as I was.
6. I don't really want to have boy children.  I will love them when/if I have them, but I find them more annoying than girls because they tend to be more physical and I'm also unsure about changing their diapers b/c they can aim where they pee (which is ironic that I dislike that feature in this situation - see #3).
7. I truly hate talking on the phone (unless it's wine night - woot woot!).  I would much rather be texted, emailed, or smoke signalled than have to answer my friggin phone (which is probably why it's always on silent).
8. I'm still bitter about high school.  People were mean for no damn reason and I'm ashamed (kinda) to say that I not only am still pissy about it, but I also take joy in their misery (not everyone's misery, just the mean people - karma's a bitch!).  Obviously, this is something I need to work on....
9. I am happy about 95% of the time.  I used to have anxiety, but that hasn't been present in my life for quite some time (thanks Prozac!!!).  I think I may have finally learned to let go of what I can't control (except for approximately 5% of the time).
10. I'm now paranoid that not only will my anxiety reappear, but I will now be UNhappy 95% of the time b/c I jinxed myself by writing #9.
11. I cuss in front of Olivia.  I have no plans of stopping.  I like cussing because it allows me to express myself with words.  I've discovered that as long as I say "bad word" after I cuss, she doesn't repeat the cuss word, only "bad word."  Success.
12. I never ever pictured myself with a man living happily ever after.  Even when I was younger, I imagined myself as a successful single mother living in a Seinfeld-esque world.  I'm disappointed to know that that world doesn't exist, but I'm happily surprised to now think that I will live happily ever after with a really good guy.
13. I am considering shaving my feet.  
14. I talk too much.  Not the talk too much kind where you just talk to fill silences, I tell too much about myself.  I do this, in part, because I feel as though confession is good for the soul and I'd much rather be the bearer of too much information than to have someone find out through other means.  
15. I love to be shocking.  From grabbing my crotch and thrusting at my mom to telling too much about my personal life, I get a thrill from other people's reactions.
16. I still crave attention.  I thought I would have outgrown this by now, but #s 14 and 15 prove that it's not the case.
17. I cannot stand mean people.  I know that I'm not often politically correct (if you think this blog is bad, you should know me in person), but I cannot stand it when people are mean to other people just to be mean.  I dated a guy that did this constantly and eventually, I was mean to him and ditched his ass.  Boo-ya.
18. If I could have my dream job, I would just write about random things and make money doing it.
19. I suck at being financially healthy.  I don't know how I do it, but I can't save a damn dime!  I've spreadsheeted my budget, I've opened different accounts with other companies that are harder for me to get to, I've hidden cash from myself.  Nothing works.  I think it's genetic (my entire family has the same problem).  I really wish someone else would handle my money for me.
20. I'm not sure I'll move out of Athens.  This is a confession for me because in the past, I always saw that way of thinking to symbolize failure.  My perception is changing on that, however, and I'm now seeing it as a sign of contentment with my current life.
21. Sometimes I look at my myspace profile and it makes me cry with happiness that my life has been so awesome.
22. The jobs that I have loved the most are the ones that stressed me out the most.  I love working under pressure and feeling like what I do is actually important.  If I could pick, however, I wouldn't work, I'd travel and just live life.
23. Sometimes I get bummed by thinking that our lives are filled with things we "have to do."  To think of spending the majority of my life working at some job (even if I like it) instead of seeing the world and experiencing everything there is to experience is depressing, so I try not to think about that too much.
24. I didn't think I'd love Olivia as much as I loved Jake (not kidding).  
25. I have regular delusions of grandeur and I think that's what keeps me sane.

Fourth of July

This is an email (and her response) that I sent to my friend on July 6, 2006:

The fourth was decent.  Went to see crap fireworks w/ my aunt, uncle, and grams.  The show was absolutely horrible, and made me feel a tad nastalgic.  None of us did anything last year.  I think Jerm had planned on doing something, but it rained and so you guys stayed home too.  I think about this one quote that I found when I first moved to Jax "With one hand the past pushes us onward while with the other hand it holds us back."  I thought it was very applicable then, and most definitely now.  I get kinda wishy washy thinking i wasted last year to do nothing, not knowing that it would be my last fourth as just me.  I mentioned it to another friend (texted after the show) and she replied w/ "there'll be a million more 4th of julys" but that wasn't what I was talking about. 

But this I DO remember ...... when we went to the beach for fireworks with you (your first time) and you were in awe of how cool it was to be on the beach in Florida watching the show. ("This is my life ... I can't believe it!")  And I remember how I felt to vicariously feel your excitement!   My thought is this, when you watch your baby see her first show (that she can actually enjoy) and you see the excitement on her face, you will be so full of joy!  Those are the 4th's that you have to look forward to.  You get to see her first everything ... How cool is that!!! :) 

Of course, I didn't believe anything she said at that time.  I was busy being miserable, fat, hot, and terrified.  Moving back to Ohio because I got unexpectedly pregnant was NOT in my plan.  At that point in my life, I felt like my life was ruined.  I had no idea how to change a diaper or soothe a crying baby, much less teach it everything it would need to know in life.  I was so angry and frustrated and ungrateful...  And then, in walks Irony.

Not only do I feel like my life truly improved when Olivia was born, but this fourth of July will be Rick and my first year anniversary together.  To imagine my life would be so full, so happy, so hectic, chaotic, crazy, and complete, was impossible for me back then.  Not only do I have a beautiful little girl who amazes me on a daily basis with her innocence, intelligence, beauty, curiosity, and unwavering love, I'm sharing all of this with a man that truly enjoys Olivia as much as I do.

I used to be a planner.  I had my budget in spreadsheet format, color coded and done for years in advance.  I would plan my future, constantly waiting for the "next step" in life.  All of that shattered on December 20, 2005 after I took 6 home pregnancy tests and had my suspicions confirmed by a doctor.  I remember driving around after my dr's appointment, getting lost in my own neighborhood because I was in such shock.  I spent a lot of the following months crying, feeling as though I'd lost everything I'd worked for.  I'm ashamed of myself now.  I remember my mom telling me during the end of my pregnancy that I was carrying a miracle and should appreciate that.  I had no idea what she was talking about then, but I do now.  I have only one regret in life - that I was so unhappy during my pregnancy with Olivia.  If only I could have seen how much the future held for us.

Pet Peeves

Today, I have two lists.  The first is a list of pet peeves.  The second is way in which I fulfill other people's pet peeves.  Feel free to add your own!

1. I hate having to wait.
2. New grammar rules (I put a comma before "but" and 2 spaces between sentences and NOTHING will change that!!!)
3. Pointless meetings
4. Smoking indoors (my downstairs neighbor smokes and it always comes up thru the vents.  I HATE THAT.)
5. Trying to force me to eat food that I do not want to eat.
6. I hate it when people are like "omg, that stinks!  Smell it!!!"  - WHY DO PEOPLE DO THIS???
7. I don't like being woke up by a perky person (unless it's Olivia)
8. Bugs indoors.  This drives me nuts.  I raided my house this weekend and feel REALLY good about it.
9. Judgemental people (this just makes me paranoid and I'm already paranoid enough)
10. Talking while I'm trying to watch Law and Order (my boyfriend does this CONSTANTLY, even tho I repeatedly ask him not to).

 

next list 

1. I'm constantly late.
2. I play with my cell phone when others are talking so it seems like I'm completely disinterested in anything they may have to say.
3. I drive too close to the car in front of me.
4. I text while I drive (DON'T JUDGE ME).
5. I have certain things I'm anti.  Words like "terd" and "fart" especially offend me (I hate typing them!!!)  I'm also anti-pie, anti-milk, etc.
6. I think (but am not sure) that I use more toilet paper than needed.
7. I keep all tvs in my house on at once (we have 4 tv, only 3 people).
8. I haven't spayed my cat yet (I know that drives people nuts).
9. My attention span is horribly short.
10. I suck at listening.

People I'm obsessed with

For some reason, it is really easy for me to become obsessed with other people.  Mind you, they have to be "outstanding" individuals worthy of my obsession.  The funny thing is, I couldn't tell you what qualifies a person to be the type of "outstanding" for which I'm searching.

Here's a brief list of past and current obsessions:

Krystal - She came to my high school from Cali during our sophomore year.  Asthetically, she was unique.  At my high school, everyone was fairly uniform - same background; similar families; similiar economic conditions; same "fashion"...  you get the idea.  Krystal, however, was from a land far away, with short hair and hippy clothes, and a mysterious background.  How exciting!  Before she knew it, I was in her business like jam on peanut butter, or whatever the saying is...  I would ask her tons of questions (most of which were answered with silence) and tell her random facts about myself (my left leg is shorter than my right!).  Eventually, she gave in and started talking.  The rest is history.

Stephanie - When I first interviewed at Daniel, I made a mental note that I wanted to be her.  She was young, hip, and professional.  I totally wanted to be her friend, but was way too intimidated to initiate contact.  Thank God for mutual friends.  :-)  Her friend (and now mine) Jeremy made the effort to talk with me and eventually, that led to me hanging out with Stephanie one on one (dream come true!!!).  I would pummel her with questions about her past, her family, her hopes, dreams, political opinions, religious beliefs, on and on and on.  Again, a successful obsession that eventually led to a fantastic friendship.

David - During my time at OU, I had the priviledge of meeting an incredible group of people.  Among those groups was David, a football player from Cincinatti.  He would explain things like "reverse racism" and "black on black crime" to me.  He was always open and honest and taught me so much, without ever judging me.  Even though we don't keep in touch now, I still appreciate (and utilize) what I learned from him.

My current obsessions consist of a religious leader and potentially, a web designer.

Paul - current pastor of a local church.  I went to the church when I was in college and was really touched by what he had to say.  He has a calm, honest humility about him that makes me feel ok about being.  He's a FB user and has a blog, so stalking him hasn't been difficult (I haven't went by his house or anything... yet).  I think that he is one of those people that just has something about them that makes me want to know them more.

Kate - works with me as our web designer.  Her fashion is ... complex.  I'm way too unsure of myself to do what she does, but I'm facsinated by her courage and personality.  She always seems to be happy and isn't afraid of going her own way.  I haven't yet started to obsess over her, but she's on my list (obviously).

Indpendently Wealthy

If I would have all of the money I would ever need to live a satisfactory life, what would I do with all of my job-less time?  I would LOVE to really have to answer this question, but until then, here's what I would hypothetically do:

1. Put enough money away for Olivia's life.
2. Buy a house in Athens.
3. Buy a compound in Jacksonville, FL where my friends and I can all live separately, but together.
4. Buy my mom a house.
5. Pay off my uncle's house.
6. Buy my grandma a house.
7. Buy a car/SUV (hybrid).
8. Go to Amsterdam and take my friends while paying them their salaries.
9. Go to Paris.
10. Hire a bilingual au pair to travel with and me help with Olivia.
11. Go to Italy.
12. Tour wine country in California.
13. Make sure all kids in Athens County have awesome Christmases.
14. Visit mi familia in Merida.
15. Get a spanish tutor.
16. Pay off all my debts.
17. Get an electric fence for the dogs.
18. Get another dog (b/c they could have their own wing of the house with doggie doors and automatic feeders so I wouldn't be annoyed by their upkeep).
19. Buy every book on my Amazon wish list.
20. Put a tiny Taco Bell/KFC kiosk in my house(s).
21. Upgrade the church I grew up in.
22. Pay off all my friends' cars.
23. Pay Rick back for all the money he's had to lend me (when my purse got stolen, when my engine needed replaced, etc....).
24. Offer to pay for my cousins' college educations.
25. Start a scholarship fund for my high school.
26. Buy another house to have another homeless shelter in Athens so there's enough room to help everyone.
27. Give money to My Sister's Place.
28. Throw a huge party for my old Relay For Life volunteers.
29. Find and buy cargo pants that have the drawstring waist (I can't find these anywhere, but I bet it's because they're only at the really nice, expensive stores).  I would buy 20 pairs, all different colors.
30. Send my mom to a spa.
31. Get Olivia's nails done (I know she'd love a manicure now, but I just can't force myself to waste money - until I'm independently wealthy).
32. Go to New York.
33. Go to Costa Rica.
34. Go to Africa.
35. Send radical gifts to all the people that've helped me out of jams (Turner, Sluys, Waugerman, Weaver, Ryckman, the list goes on and on and on).
36. Create an area of play and learning for Olivia with a ton of rides that are sturdy enough for me to play on them too.
37. Have a pillow room.
38. Have an inground, indoor pool surrounded by windows.
39. Have a personal masseur on call (but they would be paid really well for their time).
40. Meet Britney Spears and become her life coach.
41. Hug Mariah Carey.
42. Be sung to by Mary J. Blige.
43. Meet Randy Travis.
44. Buy a trampoline.
45. Create a very large closet just for toilet paper so I could have a huge supply and never have to worry about running out when I really need it.
46. Make a cat room where everything is climb/scratchable.
47. Install a pond to fish in.
48. Create and send Olivia to a fabulous alternative school where they are less focused on standardized testing and more focused on creativity and each child's individual strengths.
49. Have fabulous outdoor furniture.
50. Buy Chantix for anyone and everyone that wanted to stop smoking.
51. Make a Chinese Restaurant in Athens drive-thru AND delivery friendly!
52. Have a life time supply of pickles on hand.
53. Have a pet groomer.
54. Shake Obama's hand and introduce him to Olivia.

I'm sure I'll continue to think of more, but until then, what would YOU do?

Today's Theme...

"Normal Life"

For longer than I care to remember, I have desired normality.  When I was younger, my mom would constantly remind me that as God's child, I was unlike the rest.  Eventually, I resisted this.  As a child, the primary desire is to fit in.  This does not work when you are constantly reminded that you are different than everyone else.  Not only was I set aside as God's child, but I was not in the "popular circle."  My parents could rarely afford the namebrand materials that seem to make or break a kid's social standing.  All too often, I would feel so isolated, so far from the norm, that I became paranoid and self conscious.  These quirks stayed with me throughout high school, where most of my focus was on trying to stay out of the line of fire from the other, "cooler" kids.  It wasn't until I got to college that I realized that being "normal" isn't necessarily as beautiful a thing as I had imagined.  To this day, I'm still struggling to define the word.  

Although I will admit, I feel more "normal" now than maybe I have in the past, it's still such a subjective term, I doubt it applies to anyone 100%.

Introduction

Like the rest of the world, I've always thought that my life would make an incredible book.  I can't count the times that I have searched for books that relate to me and my life, that would allow me to feel connected with others who have the same dreams, challenges, life stories as myself.  Of course, most of us have been raised to believe that we're unique, that there is noone else like us.  That, of course, is bullshit.  Yes, we are unique.  Yes, we are one of a kind.  But are our stories really so different?  Are our lives so separated and individualized that we have nothing with which to relate to one another?

I have taken pride in many things throughout my life.  I am a college graduate.  I have a full time, decent paying job.  I am self sufficient, articulate, and not bad looking.  I have overcome challenges that I never thought I would have to face, much less conquer.  Yet even with all of these attributes, I still have an endless list of complaints.  My house isn't big enough.  My job doesn't always stimulate me.  I hate getting up early.  I never have enough money, no matter how intricate my excel sheet budgets may be.  What would it take to make a person completely, wholly content?  My religious upbringing encourages me to say that it's have spiritual security, faith that is active and dominant in one's life.  How attainable is that?

Sometimes I think, no, I know that I have many more questions than I will ever have answers.

So what is the point of all of this?  My ramblings today seem to be leading in millions of different directions, with no direct path for any of them.  Maybe that's what this blog is about... The ramblings of Billie.  Sounds good to me.