if i say it enough i might believe it

“She’s got nobody else,” Taye said to me. “We’re all she has now.”

 “Yeah, I know.”

 

yeah ... no.

 

Melinda* is seven years older than me. I was the last one born and Marco is between us. Melinda was never fond of kids. She was sure to tell me this every chance she had: “You’re the reason I don’t like kids.”

It’s not entirely her fault she felt this way. I probably would too if I were forced to constantly babysit my younger siblings; Mama and Papa just put too much responsibility onto her. I get that now.

We were never close.

Never.

I tried so many times. And then I just gave up. Wasn’t that long ago when I gave up either, but I did. I kind of stopped caring. Then she got divorced for a second time, and now she lives alone and her drunk of a daughter won’t allow Melinda to see her grandbaby. I know it hurts her. I know she’s human despite not acting like one for so many years. I know it’s all a façade—her strength. I know, deep down, she’s still a little girl in many ways.

But it’s so hard for me to care.

 

I hosted a baby shower for my BFF/cousin last weekend. Melinda showed up an hour late. She stayed well into the evening despite everyone else leaving hours before her. It was very odd to have her sit there in my home without any other family there besides Taye and Lovie. It was even more odd to watch Lovie latch on to Melinda…something I’ve yearned for Lovie for so long—a real relationship with her aunt. When she finally left (when it was time to get Lovie into bed) I made mention to Taye how weird it was for me to have Melinda there so long after the shower had ended.

“She probably has nothing else to do.”

 

“Oh I know, but it’s still weird.”

 

Yesterday Melinda showed up to Lovie’s dance recital after claiming she wouldn’t make it. She showed up, she gave Lovie hugs and kisses after her recital, and then when Lovie saw the flowers in Melinda’s car (intended for our mom for Mother’s Day) and excitedly thought they were for her, Melinda gave the flowers to the tiny dancer with a chuckle and a smile.

We all went to lunch afterward to celebrate Mother’s Day and Lovie’s first dance show. It was a really lovely day. At one point Melinda was walking back to the table and Lovie ran up to her and hugged her legs. I smiled. Melinda held Lovie’s head to her to bring her in closer. Melinda smiled, too.

It was weird though...She’s all alone. She has two adult children, one 13-year-old, and a granddaughter. None of whom she saw yesterday. On Mother’s Day.

How sad is that?

And yet, it’s hard for me to care too much.

A part of me hopes that this is the thing that will bring us closer, but I just don’t know.

And.

I just don’t care.





*Melinda is not her real name

 

girliest girly girl

“Mama I want my hair like that,” Lovie said from the back seat of the car.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” she answered, pointing toward a building we idled next to while at a red light.

 

I followed her point and saw an image of a woman with her hair all pulled to the back of her head and a big-ass flower holding it all together.

“With a flower,” she added. “A pink one.”

“Oh okay,” I answered. “We can try that some time,” I lied.

 

When I envisioned having children, I saw them running around kicking a soccer ball. I saw them digging in the mud. And playing with cars. And riding bikes.

 

this was taken at picture day for her big dance recital. she was woken from a nap to attend and wasn't too happy to wake up. don't let the face fool you--she's enamored by the gaudy costume.

 

I never once saw them putting on ballet slippers and twirling about in a tutu. I never once saw them playing with baby dolls and loving the color pink. But that’s who Lovie is. She’s ballet and pink and flowers and dollies. She’s all girl. And I love her so much and, truth be told, I’m growing to like the ballet and pink and flowers and dollies, too. I am. But I still can’t help but to think WHO IS THIS CHILD when she oozes girlyness.

dressed all in pink, wanting pink flowers. of course.

 

It still baffles me how crazy girly she is. I mean, she even now does this high pitched squeal thing when something cracks her up on TV. Just like a girl.

riding her big wheel with her first flower FROM A BOY tucked over her shoulder.

 

My girl.

My pink-loving, tutu-wearing, not-wanting-to-get-dirty girly girl.

how to host a virtual baby shower

When I first realized the baby shower I wanted to host for my BFF (cousin) would be a virtual one, I started to freak a bit. How would we pull this off? I started researching ways to accomplish this--surely I wouldn't be the first to host such an event.

I didn't find too much out there, unfortunately. Seems like most stuff I found involved setting up a blog or Facebook page/event where everyone would log in to see pictures and posts regarding the baby shower. That's not what I envisioned though.

I wanted to host a baby shower. I didn't want the fact that the mom-to-be (MTB) was unable to attend in person to hinder the party. I wanted food, décor, talking, laughing, and belly rubs.

And that's just what happened, thanks to Skype (and our husbands for setting up the Skype stuff which I'm completely oblivious to) and the fact that my BFF's in-laws were throwing her a shower, too.

Having never met, my BFF's sister-in-law and I started communicating via email. At first we were going to try to coordinate both showers--from the invites down to everything. But that was just way too hard and I just didn't have the time, money, or energy for it. So we basically decided to go along the lines of Bees because MTB's baby bedding was bees.

I went a step beyond just Bees and went with Bees, Bugs, Gnomes, Mushrooms... basically a garden-y feel. And all approved by the MTB, of course.

First up were the invites for my portion of the shower in Chicago:

each handmade by me-- thanks to Washi Tape, Michael's, and Hobby Lobby of course. and this Pin that inspired it.

Then, I just expanded from the invites... The décor would be yellow and pink, primarily (like the invites), with spurts of cute bees, bugs, gnomes, mushrooms (all things MTB likes). And flowers because what are bees and bugs without flowers?

I'd seen the clothesline idea before on Pinterest and such so I knew I wanted to incorporate that. But I also needed a little more than just that, without going too crazy. So, also thanks to Pinterest, I discovered tissue pom flowers and streamer backgrounds.

Anyway, commence the pictures...

The room set up:

click to enlarge-- taken with my cell phone. the Skype camera is on top of the TV and their view would be of the food table and streamers, which is why I put the streamers there- they are actually covering three canvases of me, Taye & Lovie.

Clothesline in better detail, photos taken with a real camera:

All clothes are Carter's-- 12 months to 24 months. A couple Gerber bibs and a couple pair of Circo socks to balance it out.

 

Tissue pom flowers in better detail, photos taken with a real camera:

made all these myself thanks to this pin. I grouped them together onto a big box top and then pinned that into the wall.

Food table in better detail, photos taken with real camera:

I created the Menu right before the shower-- Washi tape and leftover paper from the invites to the rescue!

The fruit skewers:

I knew I'd serve fruit, but I didn't want just a bowl of fruit; I wanted to add height to the table and when I saw this basket at Goodwill, it just came to me. Styrofoam sits inside the basket, which is then jammed with the skewers I created, very easily.

Guest sign-in book:

Like the menu, I created the note for the book very last minute with a leftover invite. I wanted to have guests leave a note or wish inside a baby book of sorts... since we're all here in (or near) Chicago, I was elated to find a Chicago "baby" book to complete the plan.

How the virtual baby shower really gets pulled off--SKYPE!

Honestly, this could've only worked out better had they been in Chicago. It was a little different, yes, but it was still a baby shower and it was really a lot of fun!

 

The fabulous cake:

Oh Wow was I happy with the way this turned out. MTB is a big fan of cupcakes but because she wouldn't be at our portion of the shower in person, I figured I could save some money by getting a cake. And I was right and WOW was it yummy. I made the order over the phone two days before the shower and just prayed it would turn out- and it did, I think. I mean, I couldn't stop talking about how cute it was. And then when we cut into it? (While gifts were still being open in Pennsylvania-- a plus to doing a virtual shower if you ask me {being able to eat and stuff without disturbing the gift opening}) There was only six adults and we finished 3/4 of it, it was THAT tasty. Thank you Mariano's!

My pride and joy, the edible flower favors:

Ack, these turned out SO well. Yes, they're a little top heavy and they would probably look even better with shorter sticks, but whatever. They look and tasted awesome. They go along with the theme (what are bees and bugs without flowers, huh??). The colors match. I made them myself!! They weren't that hard or expensive. I adore them so! Thanks to this pin and this one and this one for the inspiration.

Overall this was a really fun experience for me. I actually enjoy having parties at my place... and seeing this all come together was just amazing. And again, the only way this could've been better was if the MTB (and Daddy to be) would've been there in person.

Now I get to box all this stuff up and ship it out to her before Sunday-- her first Mother's Day! And in a little over a month, maybe we can Skype again to see the new baby!

Yay!

a month later

It happens in the strangest places at the strangest times. This morning, for instance, I was in the shower when I thought about it: Oma's last breaths.

For the most part, I'm really OK with everything. She was 88. She lived a long life. She loved her life when she was a small child. She loved her family more than anything. She lived through hell many times over. She survived so many revolting obstacles. And she did it all with a smile on her face. Almost always.

So really, I'm OK she's gone. Because she wasn't living at the end. She was just a pile of skin and bones. Literally. It was so incredibly difficult to see her there at the end. I spent the first part of this year with a headache nearly every single day because thinking about seeing her like that or actually seeing her like that, made me ill. I prayed for her death. And I'm not a pray-er. But I prayed and I asked you to pray.

So for that I'm really OK she's gone.

But then. Every once in a while I get this wave of sadness. Debilitating sadness. Like a tidal wave crushing me. It doesn't last too long, but it's there. In that moment it's there and for that moment I feel like I can't breathe. I feel like I have to remind myself that she's the one who is gone and I need to keep breathing.



"Are you excited to see Grandma on Saturday?" I asked Lovie this morning as we talked about how today is Thursday and tomorrow, Friday, is when she can bring something to school for show-and-tell, and then it will be Saturday when Grandma will come over for a baby shower I'm hosting.

"Yeah and Oma too?"

"No, baby. Only Grandma."



Mother's Day is going to be a bit rough I suspect. As will her birthday (end of May). But I know it all will get a bit easier. I won't ever forget. If I'm lucky, Lovie won't either. But it will get easier. The crushing sensation will subside. I suspect.

a reminder of sorts to get the time capsule out of storage

We lived in the upper level of a blue Victorian home. My big brother Marco* had the smallest bedroom, allowing room for only his full size bed and a small dresser tucked inside a tiny closet. My nephew Jordan* had the bedroom through the kitchen and the bathroom. Literally, the only way into Jordan’s bedroom was through both the kitchen and bathroom. Pretty strange set up but Jordan was six at the time so it didn’t faze him too much. I got the biggest bedroom with a huge walk-in closet and large windows overlooking the neighboring white church.

It was our second apartment together since Marco divorced Jordan’s mom two years prior, and I got the big bedroom because I was paying part of the rent and taking care of Jordan while Marco worked the overnight shift.

My life was all about Jordan and Marco. Especially Jordan. I wanted to do whatever I could to provide him normalcy after his parents split. It was something I promised I would do after my own parents split 18 years prior. I was working a “going nowhere fast” job and playing Mom when I was home.

Basically, I was a 26-year-old single girl with no life outside of her 6-year-old nephew.

Around the holidays I did everything I could to make them special for Jordan. For his birthday, I made sure to always be present to celebrate. When he had field trips or some sort of school event that allowed for parent interaction, I was always there. Every soccer game, home or away, I was there. Every time he came home from a visit with him mom, I was always there.   

And I did it all because of his love. His spirit. His innocence.

I would come home after a shit day at a shit job and all I would want to do is crawl into the dark closet with a blanket and a pint of chocolate-peanut butter ice cream. I’d salivate thinking about my lover (ice cream) during the long drive from work to home. Parking my car next to Marco’s, I knew that he and Jordan were inside and I knew, pretty instantly, my lover would have to wait. I’d go into the house and as I closed the door and hung up my coat wanting to be somewhere else hanging up my coat, I’d hear the scampering of feet across the living room floor upstairs. Jordan would rush toward the hallway and top of the stairs, shouting “Auntie Chris!” with so much glee.

I’d smile. Always.

I’d climb the stairs and upon getting to the top, Jordan would leap into my arms and we’d hug.

And every time this happened, I knew it was all worth it. My lack of a personal life, of friendships and/or romance was worth it. Because this boy, this sweet growing boy was happy. In a time when he could be miserable because of the games his parents played, he was happy.

And he made me happy.

And he soon became the reason I wanted to become a Mom with such a fever it burned inside of me for the next 10 years.

Jordan and Lovie, 4/1/13

 

Tomorrow that boy will be 21.

And despite a pretty crappy hand in life dealt to him, the boy man is still pretty happy and manages to make me and mine happy, too.

 

 

 

 

hooking up with Yeah Write. check it out and join in.

 

*Marco & Jordan are not their real names. 

 

 

flower cookies on a stick

My cousin's *virtual* baby shower is Saturday and I'm quite excited. I'm hosting the Chicago shower while my cousin will be at another shower at the same time, hosted by her in-laws in Pennsylvania. Last night our husbands got together via Skype to ensure that that whole thing (skype) will work- and it should. So yay! I'm excited. I hate that she won't be here in person, but at least we're of a technological age that we can make this happen at all.

I've been prepping for this shower for a while now and I just cannot wait to see it all come together. Last time I talked about it, I showed you the invites I made.

Super cute, right? RIGHT?

Well now I want to talk about the favors I made...

How cute are those?? And they're edible AND they weren't hard to make.

I wanted something to go along with the "theme" of the invites and shower (bugs, bees, garden-y) without spending a fortune. I can't even remember how I found them, but I did pin them here and here.

Supplies
 * Terracotta pots (Dollar Tree had them at 3 for $1!)
 * Weed looking stuff (Dollar Tree had a bag for $1)
 * Cookie Sticks (Party City had them 20 for a couple bucks) (if I could do it again, I'd get shorter sticks or a larger pot)
 * Refrigerated cookie dough
 * flour
 * colored sugar
 * Hershey kisses
 * egg carton egg holder thingies
 * glue stick
 * plastic zip lock bags
 * Washi tape

Direction for the pots
 * Cut the egg holders out individually to fit into the pots so the bottom (the part the egg normally sits in) is sticking up.
 * Poke hole in center big enough for cookie stick to sit in.
 * Glue the top of the egg holder and dip in weed looking stuff.

Direction for the cookies (20 cookies)
 * Followed these directions, except I used Hershey Kisses.

After the cookies cooled I wrapped each cookie (just the cookie part) in a Ziploc bag with the zip part cut off and taped with Washi tape. The cookies are in the freezer and before the shower, I'll stick them into the pre-made pots and weed, waiting for the flower.

I can't wait to see everyone's reactions! I think they're darling!

shocking news!

i'm in a funk of a mood.

bubbles. and flowers. bubbly flowers. flowery bubbles. bubbles and flowers.

what better time to post a sweet (look at her face!!) photo of my love? editing thanks to Picmonkey. really, you do NOT want to see the atrocious curb appeal that surrounds her in that photo.

well what do you know?!?

I go and give up on something because it was kind of making me feel like shit, and my "popularity" grows.

Thanks Renee.

Wordless Wednesday: Bubbles

Sorry. Not the damn board game, either.

source

 

 

I was only 10 years old when the song Hard to Say I’m Sorry by the band Chicago became a huge hit. Every time I heard the song, which was often in the Summer of 1982, I would cry. Oftentimes, I would cry myself to sleep.

 

Hold me now.

It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry.

I just want you to stay.

After all that we’ve been through,

I will make it up to you. I promise to.

 

Mama and Papa were going through a war of roses.

 

And after all that’s been said and done,

You’re just the part of me I can’t let go.

 

The Fall prior I came home one evening to a kitchen counter full of brown paper grocery store bags full of clothes and toiletries for us three kids and Mama. I was told to go say goodbye to Papa who sat in the living room in front of the glowing TV. The four of us and our brown paper bags piled into the Ford Granada and off Mama drove to our grandparents’ house in the city while Papa stayed tucked inside the only house I knew.

 

Couldn’t stand to be kept away...just for the day...from your body.

Wouldn’t wanna be swept away, far away, from the one that I love.

 

I remember the day we packed our belongings and piled back into the Granada and headed home. I was happy and excited. We were going to be a family again.

 

Hold me now.

It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry.

I just want you to know.

 

But then we ended up camping upstairs in my sister’s attic bedroom when Papa was home so that we weren’t ever all together with him.

 

Hold me now.

I really want to tell you I’m sorry.

I could never let you go.

 

Every night when it was my bedtime, I would climb the dark brown carpeted stairs to the attic and get into bed while my sister’s radio played. And every night I waited to hear Hard to Say I’m Sorry.

 

After all that we’ve been through,

I will make it up to you. I promise to.

 

And every night I cried myself to sleep.

 

And after all that’s been said and done,

You’re just the part of me I can’t let go.

 

Then one day Mama changed the locks on the doors to the house when Papa was at work. She packed a couple of his suitcases and set them on the blue-gray front porch. She sent me to a family down the street to play.

 

After all that we’ve been through,

I will make it up to you. I promise to.

 

Papa went home to being locked out of his house.  

 

You’re gonna be the lucky one.

 

Five years later, their divorce was finalized. 30 years later and any time I hear even a snippet of this song, it’s like I’m 10 years old again.

 

They never did say they were sorry, either—not to each other and not to us.

 

 

 

 

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