Family Reunion.

I am going to tell you something that will probably make you think less of me. I hate most of Mike's family.

 I can't stand his grandmother, Peggy. She is a conniving, scheming, lying user. She can't handle the fact that my husband turns to me with problems, instead of her. When Mike explicitly told her not to bring his mother to our wedding, she did anyway. The whole time Debbie clung to Mike as a mistress instead of a mother. I have photos. I didn't say anything that day. Not that night, but a few weeks later. He was as upset as I.

His mother, Debbie, is a crack whore who left her sons in the care of friends, family, and lovers, then left them for months at a time when she was using. I remember one story of her more steady boyfriend, Larry, saving the money to buy the boys a computer for Christmas. At that time, computers were extremely expensive, and the one he'd picked out was $1500.00. One morning, Debbie took the money and left the boys with Larry. No note, no goodbye, nada.

His Uncle, Josh, is actually younger than Mike by a month. He had a wife, Sabrina, and two kids, Hunter and Haley. We were staying the week with them. Sabrina and Mike were at work, Josh and I were home with the kids. Hunter was 2, and Haley 10 months. Hunter was eating a bowl of cereal and Haley was following him around. Hunter needed to go potty, so he set the bowl down in the middle of the coffee table and took off. I went to the kitchen to get something to drink. Josh came in from smoking outside. Haley had pulled up on the coffee table, and swiped the bowl of cereal into the floor. Josh freaked out, screaming at Hunter and pulled him from the bathroom and threw him into puddle on the floor. He rubbed his nose in it like he was a puppy that had an accident. He threw a towel at him and kept screaming at him to clean up his mess. Haley was wailing so I took her to her room and gave her a few toys. I went back to the living room and at this point, Josh had Hunter up by the throat, against a wall. I stayed back and tried to reason with him, but I couldn't. So, I walked back to our bedroom and called 911. After I hung up, I heard Hunter scream, then there was a thump, and then nothing. I ran back to the living room and he was just laying there, so quiet. Josh had thrown him against the wall. At that point, the cops got there. One thing I can say for Gadsden P.D. is they respond with a quickness. Josh was taken to jail, Mike and I were given temporary custody of the kids, and Mike's family decided he needed to get me under control because apparently, it was all my fault. According to his family, you don't go to the police, family will handle it.

After that, I wasn't welcome. Mike was, just not me. So, we stayed away. Mike wouldn't go without me. That was 6 years ago. We were informed right before Christmas that his great grandmother, Emma, wasn't doing very well and that he needed to go see her. Between the recent snow and money problems, we weren't able to go until yesterday.

It was holy hell for me. I was ignored for the most part. When my presence was acknowledged, it was with snide comments about keeping Mike away for so long and why I haven't had kids yet. Why was I depriving them of grandchildren? I'm frustrated because Mike won't see it. He was too busy with seeing his niece, and cousins. They made sure their comments were out of his range of hearing. I hate sounding like I know I do.

Mike kept the visit short, because he could read my signals. He knew that I was nervous about going. Afraid of the reaction I would cause. He took me out afterwards, but that story is for another moment in time.

Love to all,
Allie

Craziness at the Batcave.

Has it been a full moon all week long or something? It has been craziness at work lately. It seems like everytime I turn around, something is going on.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na... Batman!

That is what I wore to work Sunday. For the record, I am a Dark Knight fanatic. I love Batman. Adam West might be the original, but Michael Keaton is my favorite. Christian Bale comes in at a close second, simply because the movies with him are darker, harder, and of course have better graphics.

Anyway, I got all kinds of reactions to it. My favorite was this one old lady. She was probably around 70 or so, 100 lbs soaking wet, and a puff of cotton for hair. As she was leaving, she strikes a pose and says, "To the Batmobile!" I about died. Oh my god. I thought I would never stop laughing. It was great.

Is there a Flirtaholics Anonymous? If there is, I need to go. "Hi, my name is Allie, and I'm a shameless flirt." I can't help it. It is just me. Mom says I get it from Daddy. She said that it was a bone of contention between them in the early years. According to her, he swore he was just being friendly. She admits that after awhile, she could see that he didn't really mean anything, it was just his nature to be friendly and engaging.

The reason for this, is, I was molested at work. I totally brought it on myself too. My husband agrees, and he actually thought it was pretty funny. Alright, so here goes....

There is this guy named Chris. He and I have flirted with each other ever since I started my job in late July. (Definition of flirt: chat up: talk or behave amorously, without serious intentions.) We are both happily married, so I've never thought, or wanted to think, that it was going anywhere. So anyway, he was back behind the Pepsi machine and called me over. I thought something was wrong with it from his tone of voice, so I came around the counter and closed the door. Big mistake.

Chris: You have to see this!
Me: What? I don't see anything? (My hands are kind of down by my side, palms out.)
Chris: This. He grabs my hand and puts it on the front of his jeans. (He's a bold one, huh?)
Me: Holy f**k. You can't do that!

I pull my hand away and start backing away from him. I know that I was blushing and jabbering, but I wasn't exactly coherent enough to remember what I was saying. He advances toward me with the biggest grin on his face. And then....? I smack into the door. Crap. He leans down and kisses me. (Alarms are going off in my head. All I can think is the F word.) I'm pushing against him, and reaching for the door knob. After what seems like an hour, I find it. I jerk the door open and fall backwards. I slam the door shut behind me, and race around to the counter.

"Dude! You can't do that! I'm married! You're married! There are CAMERAS!" I'm blushing and he is laughing. I remember all I could really say was dude, which comes out as doo. I don't know why, maybe my accent?

Anyway, he apologized, and promised not to let it happen again. I called Mom as soon as he left. I told her the whole thing and I could hear her voice shaking with laughter. I admit. It was funny. After the fact. He's been back in since, and while we still flirt, I know he wants more. And he knows that I stand firm, faithful to my husband.

Confession time. When I met my husband, I was dating 5 other guys besides him. If I'm lying, I'm dying. There was Kev, a man 17 years my senior, to the day. To this day, I will still remember the birthday we shared, and all that he taught me. The 2 Jasons, one of which I had tried desperately to have a relationship with, but it just wasn't right. Jeremy, the Paragod, with whom I had an extremely combustible and dangerous relationship. There was Matt, the sweet, naive church going, tied to his mama's apronstrings boy.

To be honest, there are tons more than that, I just don't remember most of their names.  For a very long time in my life, I used love and sex to fill a void in me. It's not that I was addicted to sex, I just craved the attention and affection. Mike is the only man I've ever been faithful to. He's the only one who's ever made me want to be faithful, to tie myself to.

I don't regret a single thing I've ever done. Everything I've done, has made me into the person I am today. I'm not going to say that I don't look back, because we all do. I think of some of the things that I have done, and sure, I wish that I'd handled them differently. Hindsight will always be 20/20.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't regret. If you've done something you wished you hadn't, don't keep reliving the past. Stop being ashamed or embarrassed. Let it go, and move on.

Love to All,
Allie

Darkness

My mother, during our conversation.

Alright. So what I'm going to be talking about is domestic violence. How it starts, escalates, and how it ultimately ends. I originally started working on this project because of someone who lost her daughter to domestic violence. At this moment, that is put on the back burner. She's just not ready to talk, and I completely understand. So that leaves me with all this work, and nothing to run with. Or does it?

A lot of people sweep this issue under the rug. It doesn't happen because they aren't personally involved. Maybe it does happen to them, but they are too scared, or don't know how to speak up. Some block it out because they don't want to remember it.

Well, this blog is about me, so... I guess this is where I step up to the plate. I grew up in a domestic violence situation. In my mother's own words, they were volatile. I remember hurtful words, broken dishes, busted walls, and shattered windshields. I will say this for my parents, they never hit each other in front of us. It was mostly a verbal thing.

So, I went shopping. I bought a voice recorder. And then... I sat down with Mama, Daddy, and my brother B individually, and recorded our conversations. It dang near killed me. It was so emotionally charged. It was so hard to hear things from Mama about Daddy, and to hear things from Dad about Mom. It was pretty easy to talk to B. He's like me, he remembered the screaming, harsh words, and shattered windshields. Like me, he also remembers that they never hit each other in front of us.

Let me just pause here to clarify my relationships with my family. Mama is my very best friend. She has been since my first breath. I've always been my Daddy's girl. I've had conversations with them that most people don't have with their parents. I know things about their relationship and them that very few do.

I started out with Mama. The first question I asked her was, "How did you meet Dad?" She told me about the fact that she and Dad's sister Pat were best friends, and they had met through her. "How did he ask you to marry him?" She couldn't quite remember the wording, but, she remembers it went to the effect of, "I love you, and I want to marry you and the kid." (My brother B, is technically my half brother. He was born in December of 1978 and my parents were married in February of 1979.)

"Who threw the first punch?" That was one of the hardest questions to ask. We talked about how often they fought. It wasn't a daily thing. It wasn't an all the time thing. Their verbal altercations didn't always turn physical. I remember one point in the conversation, Mama told me, "Your Daddy is not a monster." At that moment, I couldn't agree with her.

How can you sit there and tell me that someone who had locked her in the closet, left bruises on her, and shattered a baby's glass bottle against the wall, is not a monster? I asked her that question. She said, "We were monsters together. We were toxic to each other. Twisted and wrong. I antagonized him so much. I couldn't let him walk away." And that made me look at her in a whole new light.

I walked away from that conversation shaken and sick. Hearing those words about my father... it didn't break me, but it hurt. I had a hard time sleeping last night.

I talked to Daddy today. I had to. If I was going to do this right, I had to include his thoughts and memories. I sat him down and told him that I was planning a piece on domestic violence, and that it was going to be about our family. Dad was a little defensive to start with. I think he was afraid that I put the blame solely on him. After I explained that Mama accepted her share of the blame, that she admitted to antagonizing him, he opened up more.

He admitted to locking Mama in a closet. I'm not telling the story that led up to it, but the gist is, they were fighting, and he was trying to walk away, but she wouldn't let him. He was extremely upset. She stayed in his face, so he put her in the closet. "I couldn't make her leave me alone, so I put her in the closet. I sat down against the door so she couldn't get out, and I cried. I cried because of what she'd done to me." I'm not condoning what he did, and there is absolutely no excuse for hurting someone else, but after hearing what he said, I understand.

I closed the conversations by asking them, "What is your favorite memory from being married to each other?" Strangely enough, both of their memories revolve around me.

Dad's favorite memory was when B was standing up in his crib and was looking at the corner of the ceiling and said, "You're not gonna take my Daddy from me." About a month later, they found out Mama was pregnant with me.

Mama's favorite memory is when she was delivering me, Dad was standing by her side. The doctor looked up and said, "There's the head." Dad looked up and said, "What is it?" Mom says the doctor kinda smirked and said, "It's a head, I'm not sure yet." When I was finally out, the doctor looked up and said, "It's a girl." Mom said that Daddy got this look of wonder on his face and was jumping up and down and yelling, "We did it! We had a girl!"

My parents divorced in 1994. Mom remarried 3 months later to a man named Greg. Along with him, I got my awesome stepbrother D and my best girl Mamy. Greg died in 1996 in a motorcycle accident. Dad remarried in 1999 to a woman named Jeanne. They divorced not even 2 years later due to the fact that they were total opposites. Mom remarried again in2006 to Mike. (We have 18 million Mike's in my family. It's tons of fun during the holidays.) I got 2 more step siblings that are pretty good. Daddy remarried in April of last year to a lady named Rita. And now, 2 more steps. All in all, I have 4 brothers, and 3 sisters. To me, half and step don't really count. Family is all that matters.

Some days I wish my parents were still together. I know that will never happen. That saying... You can't go home, I think it pertains to this. Wanting to be a child again, being tucked in by your parents, kissed and loved, knowing the monsters aren't under the bed. They are happy. They are at least cordial, if not down right friendly at family functions that bring them together.

And now... me. I am emotionally drained. As I wrote this post, I listened to the conversations I had with Mama, Dad, and B over and over again. In some ways, I wish I could figure out how to post them on here, but then again, I'm afraid some people would hear them and think horrible things about my parents.

They were young, kids really, when they got married. They were learning together, how to be the grown ups. There were several stressors in their life. Two children at an early age, very little money, and not really sure what they were doing. They've grown into wonderful people. My mother is my role model, along with my dad. I look at them and see the strongest people in the world. I love them, and I am extremely grateful to them.

Domestic violence isn't something that can be swept under the rug. It will not go away if you ignore it. Mom & Dad were both lucky that it never turned deadly, because it can. This isn't the last I'll be talking about this.

If you or someone you know is in a violent situation, please, please, please. Get help. It is hard to walk away from all you've ever known, but you can. 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) or http://www.thehotline.org/

You may be asking... Allie, why are you posting your details? Well, if all the gory details that come out save 1 life, it's worth it. If one person reads this and gets out, it doesn't matter what I go through.

Love to all,
Allie

Faking It.

I was an angel for Halloween. No, that isn't a joke. I went in last night to give out candy and lend a helping hand. One of the stipulations is, we had to wear costumes.

I'm cool with that. The other girl, Tab, wasn't so keen to dress up. For one thing, she's pregnant and there aren't really very many cool costumes for pregnant ladies. Sure, there's the baker costume, with the whole bun in the oven thing, but that's kinda played out, plus we wanted to dress alike, or at least compliment each other. How in the world could I have done that? I so didn't help with the baby thing. Then we were talking and decided to be spies. But the trench coat would've been too hot. I was tempted to get shirts that say F.B.I. and wear shoulder holsters with squirt guns in them, but - we have a serious problem with drugs up here. Now, I'm not saying that people that come in my store are on drugs. I'm not saying they aren't, either. I'm just not willing to take the chance of someone freaking out. There will be too many children there.

Tab came in one day and was like - "What about I be an angel, and you be a devil?" Her mom had picked up some things on clearance last year, and there were angel wings/halo and devil horns/tail. Hmmm. I can see myself doing that, so I told her sure.

She came in a week later with the biggest frown on her face. "Um, Allie? We have a problem." Oh, great. I'm thinking something is wrong, she's sick, the baby's not ok, I mean, anything really, other than what she says next. "Mom has 2 angel outfits, but no devil."

Lovely. Now, most of ya'll who have at least met me will know what I'm about to say is the truth. I'm no angel. I had absolutely no idea how to pull that off. I had wings and a halo, but... being an angel is so much more than that. If I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it right. So, I enlisted the help of my mother.

I bought a pretty white shirt, a watch/bracelet set, feather earrings and glitter. Then I turned it all over to my mother. She, with all her makeup and her expertise that I never took the time to cultivate, made me beautiful. I'm one of those girls who don't ever really see themselves as beautiful, but when I looked in the mirror last night, I was amazed.



The devil in disguise and the pregnant angel. Struck by lightning in 3...2..

Alright. I'm off for now. I'll post again later with photos of all the little goblins and ghouls from last night. I hope you had as much fun and saw as much awesome as I did.

Love to all,
Allie.

Comfort.

The weather lately has... sucked. That's being nice. Don't get me wrong. I love rain. I even love storms with thunder and lightning. Once it escalates beyond that, I'm out. On October 25, a tornado hit Ider. For those of you who are not familiar with my area, Ider is the next city over.

Ider High School is my Alma Mater. That school holds a place dear to my heart. When I saw the photos I am posting below, I was devastated. (These photos belong to Melissa Smith/The Times Journal. 10/25/10 Ider Storm Damage for more photos) Yes, it has been over 10 years since I was there last, but that doesn't matter to me. I occasionally go to a football game there even though I don't know anyone playing. I always listen for the scoreboard update the night they are playing to see how my team is doing. Anyway, here goes.

This is the home side bleachers. The little house looking thing is the announcers booth.



A close up of the bleachers.

This just hurt my heart to see. There are more pictures in that link above that show more damage. I am extremely grateful that there weren't any lives lost.

I had no less than 14 voice mails when I woke up that morning. My cell phone is my alarm clock, you see, and I turn the ringer off at night so only the alarm comes through. My mom, my dad, my brother, and several friends were worried enough about me to call. I was fine, of course. I slept through the whole thing. I even slept through my front door being opened by a gust of wind and my living room floor being flooded with water. Let me tell you, that was awesome to stumble into when I got up to let the dogs out.

After I got over the shock of water, I listened to my voice mails. My heart was warm. Every time I get fed up with living in a small town, something happens to make me grateful for it. That's how it is around here. Yes, we are backwards. Yes, we are rednecks. Yes, we get a little crazy about the Alabama/Auburn game. When it all goes downhill however, we have each others' backs. People here give for their neighbors. It doesn't matter how little we have, how poor we are. We will always give what we can to take care of others.

Yesterday I spent my time cleaning and playing therapist. I hadn't made any plans for today. I figured I would wait until today to find out what I was getting into. Why yes. I am a procrastinator, thanks for asking. I'll tell you why tomorrow.



Lovely weather we're having.

This is what awaited me today. Blah. Seriously blah. I whined and pouted for a few minutes while the demon dogs laughed at me. So I kicked them out in it. It kills me. They love the pool, but hate the rain. What gives? While they were outside, I decided to have a me day. I made Cheeseburger Mac with Caramelized Onions. No, it isn't healthy. Yes, it is Teh Awesome. (Yes I am misspelling that on purpose. I did it the other day too. I'll explain eventually.)

I actually took step by step pictures because I do plan on posting it. I'm not sure if it will be tomorrow, but my magic 8 ball says "All Signs Point To Yes!"  Who had one of those? I did. I asked it about every single thing I could think of. Wonder where it went?

Sorry. I get sidetracked easily. My post is titled Comfort because that is what I needed today. So what did I do? I made a big bowl of comfort and piled up with my laptop to catch up on Hawaii 5-0 and Blue Bloods. Then a friend turned me on to something and I became addicted. Best of Craigslist Have you ever been there? You can waste hours on this site. I laughed so hard my sides hurt. A letter to my dead girlfriend made me cry so hard tears actually poured out onto my cheeks. That is a rare occurence for me. I tear up now just thinking about it.

Anyway. I'm going now. But here is a look at what tomorrow will bring. Yeah, the picture is weird. It looks that way to me, anyway. Steam is not conducive to good picture taking, but hey, at that moment, all I cared about was getting the shot and getting that stuff in my belly.

Love to all,
Allie

Blogs and Religion.

I read. Alot. Not just books. Magazines. Forums online. And blogs. Several blogs. At the moment, I'm following 5 blogs religiously.

One of my favorite blogs is by Ree Drummond. You may know her better as The Pioneer Woman. I don't know her, but I love her. She's fantastically funny, an amazing cook and as far as I can tell, she seems to be a wonderful person. She's one of the reasons I finally sucked it up and started my own blog. She owns who she is, what she's about, and her flaws.

Another is Our Best Bites. This site is ran by Sara and Kate. They have some seriously insane recipes there. It is a temptation that a fat girl like myself does not need. They are very down to earth and easy to relate to. Apparently, all bloggers are clumsy in the kitchen.

Then there is The Other Ryan. I learned about him through The Pioneer Woman. Dude has skills. I'm talking serious culinary skills. And some amazing tats and piercings. And he's hawt. Yeah, I know. That seems wrong on so many levels, calling a pastor hawt. Oh wait. I didn't tell you he's a pastor? Why yes. Yes he is. Amazing right? The only pastors/preachers I've had contact with were all very old. And strict. And not very accepting of individuality. (I know this is tripping my dad out right now. That his daughter follows a religious blog... well, religiously.)

That leads me to the topic of religion. Maybe it's because it is Sunday. Maybe because most of the bloggers I follow are religious in some way and they've posted something religious lately. Whatever it is, today I feel... spiritual. I have a hard time defining my religion. I was raised Southern Baptist. Mike was raised Catholic. (Insert funny priest/alter boy joke here.) I never really agreed with Southern Baptist. Or Christianity really. Or maybe it's the Bible.

I just find it hard to belive that God doesn't agree with things He created. There are so many things you can't do, according to the Bible.

A few I agree with. Some, not so much. Honor your mother and father? I get that. Mom had you. They both fed you, clothed you, and took care of you. (Hopefully, anyway. If your parents weren't Teh Awesome like mine, I'm sorry.) No stealing? I get that too. If you didn't earn it, don't touch it. No killing? Yup, I'm totally down with that one.

Somethings I don't agree with. You shall have no other gods before me. Hmmm. I'm not so cool with this one actually. My personal opinion is that everyone has the right to choose the right religion for themselves.

Or what about this one? "Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy, as the LORD your God commanded you. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God; you shall not do any work—you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns, so that your male and female slave may rest as well as you. Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the LORD your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day." How do we pick which day is holy? How do we know it should be Sunday? And what is up with the slave thing? Weren't all people created equal in the eyes of God? Why didn't he say way back then - "Hey! Knock that off! You don't own that person."? We wouldn't have half the drama we do today about slavery.

And this is one that really throws me. "Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable." Why? God created homosexuals. According to the Bible, God created everything. So why did he create it, if He didn't want it?

I know that several people will tell me, don't question God. Well too bad. I question Him because of the flawed world He created. Kids that die young? Cancer? Pedophiles? Bigots? Why create these things? They aren't necessary. These evil things are not from Satan. God created them. He also created Satan. Again, if He didn't want these things in this world, why create them?

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This is in the Bible. Why does God not hold himself accountable to this as well?

I know I'm going to get flamed for this, but, this is what's on my mind. All I ask for is respect. These are my beliefs. I'm not saying there is a God, or there is not a God. I won't know that until I'm dead or Jesus really does come back.

Please. Whatever your belief is, be tolerant and respectful of others beliefs.

Love to all
Allie

Houston, We Have a Problem.

I am exhausted. I had to be up at 6:30 this morning so I could get ready and take my grandmother to the hospital for surgery. Well, I didn't go to sleep until 2:00 am.

Sleep and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it. Need it. Want it all the time, but sleep doesn't want to be anywhere near my bed for the most part. This probably has something to do with the fact that I was so accustomed to being able to roll over and touch my husband. I have nightmares alot, and all he had to do was put his hand on my shoulder and I would snap out of them.

My most recent nightmares have included being stalked by a serial killer and attacked by zombies. (Ok, you can stop laughing so hard now. And clean your screen. You just snorted soda/milk/water on it. Didn't you? Uh huh. I knew it.) It was totally messed up because it started out with me jumping out of the serial killers' car and running through Henagar park. The killer was chasing me and I woke up right before he could grab me again. I fell right back to sleep and automatically was dreaming I was in the scene from the beginning of Dawn of the Dead, where the little girl attacks the husband and wife. I looked over and she screamed at me and then raised her hand. I saw a huge butcher knife in it and I knew she was going to throw it at me, so I just looked at her and said, "No! Drop it!", and she lunged for me. I woke up then, fumbling for my light and screaming. My dogs were licking my face, trying to reassure me that I was ok.

I bring this on myself. I know I do. I'm fascinated with zombies and the supernatural. I'm always reading something or watching a movie. I freak myself out to the point of not being able to sleep without having the lights on. I love the movies Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead. Simon Pegg, the guy that plays Shaun, is extremely funny by the way. Have you seen him in Hot Fuzz? No? Watch it. You'll love it.

Anyway, I know I'm all over the place with this post, but I'm delerious. Like I said, 4.5 hours of sleep just doesn't cut it. So... back to my Granny.

 We got there at 9:00 am and was settled in a day surgery room in about 15 minutes. We already knew she probably wouldn't be taken back until noon or so, depending on how his previous surgeries went. We piled up and watched The Price is Right and The Secret Window. Everything rocks on and they finally come get her at 12:30. By this time, Mama is there with us, and the nurse tells us they'll call us when they start the surgery. About 45 minutes later, Dr. Herberholz walks in. We're a little panicked to see him, and he quickly explains that Granny is ok, but they had to cancel her surgery for the time being. She was fine until they started giving her the knockout gas and then suddenly, her blood pressure went through the roof. The surgery is technically elective right now, but will need to be done soon. As soon as she was in recovery, her stats stabilized and she came back to the room. They fed her and watched her for another hour before releasing her.

She's fne, but I'm worried about her for other reasons now. We had talked about a few things yesterday, and she asked me about them again today. We had the same conversation we did yesterday. I asked her if she remembered chatting about those things, but she doesn't. Mom noticed it too. So has the minion. Minion lives with Granny, and she says that Granny has become more forgetful lately. That scares me. I've seen up close and personal what Alzheimer's and dementia can do. We didn't say anything to her about it today, because she was already stressed enough as it was. I'm off Monday, and I plan to talk to her then. How do you bring that up? How do you say to the woman that has helped raise you for 29 years that you are afraid she's losing her mind/memory?

Paying For My Raising.

Have you ever heard that term? My mama & daddy has said to me many a time, "Girl, you're gonna pay for your raising." I didn't understand it until about 1:45 this morning. I was all tucked into bed, warm in pajamas, just about to turn out the light, when I hear the Hawaii Five-O theme song. (Text message ringtone.) I flip open my phone and I'm extremely tempted to just roll over and go to sleep because I don't recognize the number and I'm supposed to get up at 7:00 am to go for my 2 mile daily walk. Curiosity killed the cat however, along with my sleep.

It was this evil child. My minion, Connie. We started out calling her my mini-me, because she looks alot like me, except, well... smaller. She's a sweet kid for the most part, trying really hard to grow up too quickly. Me & mama look out for her because of her mother. The minion was diagnosed with diabetes when she was 4. Her mom split, and we just kinda picked up the slack.

So anyway, she's begging me to drive 14 miles to bring her gas money at 2:00 am. Why? Because she's a teenager and made a stupid mistake. I'm still ticked because she knows better than that. She wants to be an adult, but at the same time she doesn't want the actual responsibilities. (Wait. This is starting to bring back memories. Dang.) So I get down there and give her a hard time, because well, that's what a minion's leader is supposed to do. Right? You know, the what were you thinking, do you realize what time it is, some people have to get up early speech. And the whole time, there's a red alert going in the back of my brain - Oh no. Your mother is speaking every time you open your mouth! And she's sassing me just like I did my mama. We eventually got our stuff straight. Lots of raised voices and threats of, "I swear, I'm gonna beat your butt when we get home." (No minions were harmed in the making of this post.)

We make our way over to the gas station, I go in and pay and tell her I'm following her home and so help me, she'd better drive right. As I'm driving along behind her, I'm thinking. Wait a darn minute. I'm not supposed to be doing this. I don't have kids. My kids wouldn't act like this anyway. (Yeah, I know. I'm fooling myself.) I'm thinking, no fair, and then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm paying for my raising.

Mom? Dad? I'm sorry. Forgive me for giving you so much hell as a teenager. Thank you for being patient, kind, loving, tough, and all the other things parents with teenagers need. I have a feeling that I'm about to learn those things. No, I don't have a child. I have a minion, and something tells me that's gonna be just as bad.

Love to all,
Allie