The first thing I thought of was not our wedding song, but OUR wedding song.  Makes sense, right?

To clarify, when Archie and I got married, Brandon was three years old.  Our first date he didn’t ask ME out…he asked out Brandon and I both.  We went to Pizza King so Brandon could see the train going around carrying drinks, and play video games.

It impressed my father.

It impressed me.

When it came down to planning the wedding we had the Father/Daughter dance picked.  We had our first dance picked. But there was something missing.  Something important.

That little guy had been a part of our beginning.  Our middle, and he had to be a part of this too. We had to make sure of it.

My Dad came up with the perfect song.  The one that meant a lot…fit just right.

He Didn’t Have to Be by Brad Paisley

When a single mom goes out on a date with somebody new
It always winds up feeling more like a job interview
My momma used to wonder if she’d ever meet someone
Who wouldn’t find out about me and then turn around and run

And then all of a sudden
Oh, it seemed so strange to me
How we went from something’s missing
To a family
Lookin’ back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I’m at least half the dad
That he didn’t have to be

The words say it all.  Brandon wasn’t five – but he helped Archie pop the question.  He was at the wedding, holding our hands, and we all danced together as a family at the reception.  Moments after that kiss in the picture Brandon called Archie ‘Dad’ for the first time.  It took a few months of adjustment, but soon he was calling him Dad all the time.

Archie didn’t have to ask out the single Mom.  He didn’t have to ask out her little kid.  But he did.

And we’ll forever be glad that he did.

I’m a homebody.

A computer/internet addict.

I’m well aware of my problem, and even though the first step to recovery may be admitting you have a problem…it didn’t help me.

Once everyone is in bed, this is still my escape.  I come here every night in the quiet of my house. I write into the wee hours of the morning. Not blog posts, obviously since I’ve been so lax around here.  I write stories. Dream of publication.  All while ignoring my blog. I’ve sort of tied my avoidance of posting into the appearance of my parents on facebook, and everyone and my brother knowing my blog exists. A very public form of stage fright, if you will.  I’m trying to get over it. I miss my blog. I hope to be back here more often. That’s why I prettied the place up (loving my new layout ).

My husband doesn’t like my computer, or my internet. For many years it’s been the cause of issues.  Because my BFF is online. Because I spend so many hours on it. Because I don’t make my escape to the ‘real world’. The relationships I formed with other bloggers or non-bloggers online did not count as socialization.  He doesn’t get the camaraderie. He might not ever understand. But that’s another post entirely.

In an effort to get along better with my husband (and rest my eyes and carpal-tunnel’d wrists), and to ‘get a life’ – whatever that means, I have started to venture out of the house.

I’d joined a playgroup when the girls were young – but always balked at taking out two young’uns together w/ diaper bags and such…it was always SUCH a hassle.  Well, guess what.  They are now 95% potty trained – diaper bags are no more! (We only wear diapers at night) So I don’t go to every playdate, but we get out.

I’ve been stepping away from the computer to hang out with the neighbors.  My neighborhood is one I’ve raved about before here, on FB and twitter. It’s great for the kids, and it’s great for adults.  I’ve made good friends with my neighbor across the way, and that works for me.  Sometimes I spend the whole night away from the computer just chatting with the neighbors.

But I’ve also started to have ME time.  Not w/ the kids, not w/ Archie.  Just me.

I’ve reconnected with an old friend from high school and once a month we get together to eat, drink, and be drinky…er, merry. It’s been great to find out that even after losing touch a few years ago we still get along good and can talk for hours.  One of these months I’ll be abandoning my family for a whole night to stay at her place.

My neighbor that I connected with and I started going to Zumba together (and are now talking about going to a wine tasting together – much yummier than Zumba).  It about killed me, but it was fun. It was a six week session and I vowed to not re-sign up for it again.  I had a few issues with it (false advertising for one)…and it just wasn’t my favorite.  So now, I no longer go to class with her because she signed up for boot camp and I said “Um…NO.”  I picked two classes…sooo…

First is Yoga.

I’ve been wanting to take a yoga class for a while.  I’ve done a little in my house when we had FitTV, but I’ve wanted to do a full class session.

So on Tuesdays, for an hour and a half I’m in my Yoga class.  I had my first session on Tuesday and loved it.

My body is sore, but it was great.  The four week session is far too short, and I’m already planning on signing up for the next session once it’s posted.

Then I signed up for Body Sculpt.

I haven’t had my first class yet, and I’m a little scared.  They’re calling for 5lb weights, which I have but never used.

I’m looking forward to it. Getting back in shape is something I’ve wanted to do. I’ve bought DVD’s like crazy – but making myself do them doens’t work.  With these classes, I pay for them, I’m far more likely to do them.

So for me, I’m still using my computer – but I’m trying to not be so dependent/addicted – but I’m also trying to step out.  To get away and back into real life.  My girls are older, it’s getting easier – it’s getting harder.

I’m taking time for me.  Time away from the stresses of family. Time away from the stress of being attached to the computer.  My blogging has suffered, my writing has slowed…but I think in the end it’s better for me.  My blogging and writing will improve because of it.  Being a shut in doesn’t give you much fodder, after all.  Life experience does that

(I make this post as I plan to sit in front of the computer and pre-write nearly 5 blog posts.)

Words you never want to hear.

Within a week we had a diagnosis – stage 4 Lung Cancer. Plans were made to get to New York. My mom was to go out on the 26th of May; Archie and I were going on June 10th.  None of us made it. We just didn’t have enough time.  She was gone not a week after her diagnosis.

14 years ago I lost my grandpa. Less than a week ago I lost my grandma.

“GroGram” as her great-grandchildren called her.  She was stubborn, strong, proud, and oh-so-loving. Nothing meant more than family.  She’d seen what suffering Grandpa went through when he fought his cancer – and she wasn’t about to put us through it.

But the loss feels so sudden, so strong.

Her life was rich, full, long.

She had 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren, and 7 great-grandchildren – not counting spouses, who all loved her as if they’d been born into her family.

I had 33 years w/ her in my life.  Brandon was blessed to have known her during his 12 years. My girls – they won’t remember. The picture of GroGram holding Riley is one of the few I have of her w/ my kids.  I’ll always wish we’d gone to see her more. Financially it wasn’t feasible, but I still wish we’d forced it.

With each day you spend with your family, whether they live close or far – remember that in the end it will never seem like enough time together.  Don’t scrimp on time, eat it up and revel in it. Take hundreds of pictures, don’t leave the camera in the case.  Don’t waste a moment – because every time it’s over far too soon.

***

I love you, Gramma…GroGram.  We all miss you so much – but I know you’re with Grampa, happy and free of pain.

Who was always there to listen when I was growing up.
Who fixed my costumes for dance, and made us matching Christmas outfits.
Who was there when my oldest was born.
Who taught me the fine art of not freaking out at every fever, scrape or bump.
Who taught me how to be a Mom.
Who was there when my middle one came into the world.
And watched the two oldest when our little Angel joined us.

Thank you, Mom…for everything.  I can never thank you enough for being my Mom.

For my children…

Because even on the days when I want to throw in the towel and scream my head off…

YOU are what makes ME a Mom.
Your smiles are my reward.
Your cute giggles a present.
Your intelligence shines in each of you.
Your love in the countless hugs and kisses.
YOU make me love my job – and I know there is no better job out there.

*sigh*

Yup, my brother called me out on my failure to get my project 365 going beyond where it was in my last post.

If I were TRULY evil, I would post that picture I have of him when he was 10 wearing earrings and a shawl…but I won’t.

I would also take this post to introduce my new Nephew (via my bro) and Niece (via my SIL) – but I don’t post pictures of others kids on my blog!! 

So…instead I’m left with a rather empty post announcing that I’ve been called out.  So I must pick up my camera and begin anew 365.  I think I know exactly what my first picture will be tomorrow.  It’s truly sad, but I’m so excited about it I’ve been posting it all over twitter and facebook all day.  I got my beautiful NOOK today.  I already have several books on it and lots of poetry. 

January was a month of illness. We all got sick.  Riley first, who gave it to me…then Angel got sick…we feared a hospital visit but were blessed to have that fear lifted…for now.  Her levels were WAY down at her last visit so we must return to have her levels checked again.

As I said, February has been a fruitful month.  I became an Aunt (again) twice in the past two weeks.  First a gorgeous nephew that has been struggling a bit with jaundice, but is coming out the other side finally!  Then a beautiful niece…who happens to share a middle name with my Angel. 

Otherwise I have been doing a LOT of writing…just not in cyberspace as you can see.  A story hit me and demanded to be written.  When that happens I end up consumed and so I was.  Now I need to take the drivel of unpublishable material that comes from such a spurt and attempt to make something viable from it.  That is the challenge.  The story is told, now it needs to be formed.

In other news our month of sickness from January to now ended with a literal bang.  Hubby gave himself a concussion.  We are unsure if he slipped or passed out, but he hit his head on the way to the ground and gave himself a mild concussion.  That was two days ago, he’s showing improvement but he’s still a little out of it…

Tomorrow I pick up my camera again, okay, bro?  If I miss a day I’ll just fill in with you in girly clothes and earrings.

*sigh*

Yup, my brother called me out on my failure to get my project 365 going beyond where it was in my last post.

If I were TRULY evil, I would post that picture I have of him when he was 10 wearing earrings and a shawl…but I won’t.

I would also take this post to introduce my new Nephew (via my bro) and Niece (via my SIL) – but I don’t post pictures of others kids on my blog!! 

So…instead I’m left with a rather empty post announcing that I’ve been called out.  So I must pick up my camera and begin anew 365.  I think I know exactly what my first picture will be tomorrow.  It’s truly sad, but I’m so excited about it I’ve been posting it all over twitter and facebook all day.  I got my beautiful NOOK today.  I already have several books on it and lots of poetry. 

January was a month of illness. We all got sick.  Riley first, who gave it to me…then Angel got sick…we feared a hospital visit but were blessed to have that fear lifted…for now.  Her levels were WAY down at her last visit so we must return to have her levels checked again.

As I said, February has been a fruitful month.  I became an Aunt (again) twice in the past two weeks.  First a gorgeous nephew that has been struggling a bit with jaundice, but is coming out the other side finally!  Then a beautiful niece…who happens to share a middle name with my Angel. 

Otherwise I have been doing a LOT of writing…just not in cyberspace as you can see.  A story hit me and demanded to be written.  When that happens I end up consumed and so I was.  Now I need to take the drivel of unpublishable material that comes from such a spurt and attempt to make something viable from it.  That is the challenge.  The story is told, now it needs to be formed.

In other news our month of sickness from January to now ended with a literal bang.  Hubby gave himself a concussion.  We are unsure if he slipped or passed out, but he hit his head on the way to the ground and gave himself a mild concussion.  That was two days ago, he’s showing improvement but he’s still a little out of it…

Tomorrow I pick up my camera again, okay, bro?  If I miss a day I’ll just fill in with you in girly clothes and earrings.

I bless you
And you bless me, too

~Celtic Woman – The Blessing

(Day one of NaBloPoMo and I’m already cheating…but really, the song called to me…I thought the words were beautiful…so I tied in some pictures of my wonderful family…what better way to start a month of posts?)

Two days ago I got hit with the bug. Yup, already.  I’ve told Archie to make me  list of his co-workers and friends that he wants included on the list.  Because I’m making plans.

Last year I made well over 1000 cookies, that we pigged out on, I sent in a plate w/ hubs to work, I went to a cookie exchange and took a plate of ALL my cookies-not just my exchange cookies.  I took them to my parents – and we ate them ALL.

This year I’m all about the homemade gifts. I can’t go into too much detail because people read this blog that will get some of those gifts   But I’m making my list, and I’m checking it a dozen times.

I have recipes lining up to make even MORE cookies than previous years, and candies.  I’ll make gift bags of the goodies for friends and family…and for family I’ll also have some non-edible gifts. 

The girls are getting homemade clothes, and I also have purchased clothes for both them and Brandon.  So far I’ve only spent about $40 total and have all of their clothes shopping done (this far in advance! NEVER happens!). 

I have gifts planned for all the youth (older, younger, and unborn)…and simple gifts for the extended family.  If all goes well no one will be without a gift – even if it’s a goodie bag of dessert   I’ve also started giving hubby ideas of what I want *G* Now if he’d do the same (although he’s sort of predictable…I think I can guess)

I hope you’re making your plans…it seems so far – but it passes by so fast!  I hope to finish early…there are other holidays to plan for  

******

Any blogging buddies that want a care package of my goodies better email me now so I can add you to my list!!

 It was his birthday.  I was young and such a very short kid…and he was TALL.  I remember watching him put our coats in the closet and staring up, up, up at him and asking, “How tall are you?”  With his sparkling eyes and laugh he informed me that he was over 6′.  My eyes grew wide, and all I could say was, “But you’re so close to the ceiling!  If you have ANY more birthdays you’ll go right through!”

His chair sat by the front door and the minute he sat the race was on – who would get the privilige of sitting on his lap, carrying on as deep a conversation as a child was capable of. Who would get to play with his round pot belly, and listen to his laughter.

He worked for GM and he was proud of it, and so were we.

When I close my eyes I can still smell his pipe and see the pipe carousel on his dresser.  I can smell the cigarettes that he and grandma smoked.

I remember that after he retired he would watch soap operas during lunch.

And I remember the weddings – when my cousin and I would trade off and share him for the dance.  “Grampa” by the Judds.

I remember his smile.

I remember his belly.

I remember the strength that he always carried in his soul and body.

I remember the pain that shot through my heart at the word…”cancer”.  Once it was uttered it was less than a year.  10 months.

I remember the first time I saw him in the hospital-and how I had to run from the room because it made me physically ill to see my big strong grandfather lying in a bed weak and hooked up to tubes.

I remember his fight.

I remember when it was acknowledged in our hearts that the time to fight was over.

I remember how he held on - hours past when we thought we would lose him – because he would not let go until he’d gotten to hear the good-bye of all of his grandchildren, and my brother had been in surgery for his shattered wrist. Half an hour after the final phone call, he was gone.

I remember the sound of the tennis balls scattering across the hallway when my professor’s assistant walked up asking if she knew where I was…and all I could do was run to my car to get home as soon as I could.

From there it’s a blur…a long car ride from NC to NY.  The arrangements. The funeral home. The droves of people I didn’t know, but who all knew him, overflowing the room.

The pain has lessened, resorted to a memory. For the most part I remember the love, the good things, the joy.   But on this day every year the pain comes back to the forefront.

We love you still, and will always love you, Grampa.

 It was his birthday.  I was young and such a very short kid…and he was TALL.  I remember watching him put our coats in the closet and staring up, up, up at him and asking, “How tall are you?”  With his sparkling eyes and laugh he informed me that he was over 6′.  My eyes grew wide, and all I could say was, “But you’re so close to the ceiling!  If you have ANY more birthdays you’ll go right through!”

His chair sat by the front door and the minute he sat the race was on – who would get the privilige of sitting on his lap, carrying on as deep a conversation as a child was capable of. Who would get to play with his round pot belly, and listen to his laughter.

He worked for GM and he was proud of it, and so were we.

When I close my eyes I can still smell his pipe and see the pipe carousel on his dresser.  I can smell the cigarettes that he and grandma smoked.

I remember that after he retired he would watch soap operas during lunch.

And I remember the weddings – when my cousin and I would trade off and share him for the dance.  “Grampa” by the Judds.

I remember his smile.

I remember his belly.

I remember the strength that he always carried in his soul and body.

I remember the pain that shot through my heart at the word…”cancer”.  Once it was uttered it was less than a year.  10 months.

I remember the first time I saw him in the hospital-and how I had to run from the room because it made me physically ill to see my big strong grandfather lying in a bed weak and hooked up to tubes.

I remember his fight.

I remember when it was acknowledged in our hearts that the time to fight was over.

I remember how he held on - hours past when we thought we would lose him – because he would not let go until he’d gotten to hear the good-bye of all of his grandchildren, and my brother had been in surgery for his shattered wrist. Half an hour after the final phone call, he was gone.

I remember the sound of the tennis balls scattering across the hallway when my professor’s assistant walked up asking if she knew where I was…and all I could do was run to my car to get home as soon as I could.

From there it’s a blur…a long car ride from NC to NY.  The arrangements. The funeral home. The droves of people I didn’t know, but who all knew him, overflowing the room.

The pain has lessened, resorted to a memory. For the most part I remember the love, the good things, the joy.   But on this day every year the pain comes back to the forefront.

We love you still, and will always love you, Grampa.