It's become a regular thing around here that my daughter have friends over EVERY weekend and sometimes on Thursdays. If school's out then my house is full and no matter if I've got $1000 worth of groceries 3 to 4 teenage girls weighing a combined total of no more than 130 pounds can eat every bit! Twelve pack after 12 pack of Mountain Dew and Pepsi are consumed and I think there's about 3 half empty bags of chips just hanging out while a brand new bag is ripped into. Blow Pop & Pop Tart wrappers adorn the kitchen counter mere inches from the trash can while I put on my best smirk, stare at 4 sometimes brainless acting girls & throw the trash where it goes all in a matter of fractional seconds. All 4 girls stare back at me like 'Ok? Good job with the trash thingie Mom!' and my non verbal hints are completely lost!

Every girl that comes over for the night (including my little angel) has enough hair product in tow that alone they could supply a city the size of the continent of Africa with various hair spray, hair gel, volumizer, shampoo & conditioner yet every time you see them it's one of two hair dos they're sporting. I'm confused. Why would you spend that kind of....never mind; I forgot I'm talking about teenagers, in particular teenage GIRLS!

It's scarey sometimes when they all come over because their overnight bags are the size of some of the smaller Samsonite luggage that I've seen. You know, the kind that should be on wheels that when stood on end measure 8 to 10 inches above your waist & are twice your width. I see those things and my first thought is: Her mom has made her mad and she's staying here till she's 30! I have to resist the urge to call social services and go ahead and sign up for food stamps & a place in the projects! Lots of times I've been so afraid of a permanent type of arrangement that I've been able to hear my heart beating in my head while visions of a life of poverty flash before my eyes! It's those times that I've called Pete to the side and whispered "Now how long did you say she was staying?" So far nothing permanent but it never hurts to ask right?

The stairs in my house are REALLY steep (ask Jennifer & Richard) so I wear cleets as a precaution when I go up to check the cleanliness issue that MUST be addressed when teens are in the house! Visitors of Pete's, without fail, comment on the stairs and cling to the rail for dear life both ascending and descending! Have you ever been on a plane and watched the stewardess do those funky hand motions while a voice tells you what she's doing it for? Ok, I sometimes feel like Pete should be doing those hand motions while I tell the girls how to approach the stair issue. Picture if you will, Pete at the top of the stairs hands going in this direction and that direction while I recite: "It is recommended that you take the stairs one at a time being careful to white knuckle the handrail the entire 13 stair pattern. Heels over 1/2 inch are not recommend for this journey & the idea of talking while in a forward motion is not permitted for your safety. We politely request that you maintain possession of your signed form stating that you will not sue should you break a tibular or femur while visiting. Thank you and come again!"
Some of the girls seriously have terror written all over their faces when they see the stairs! If I knew it would make sense to them I'd start singing..."and she's buyiiiiiiinnnnnngggg the stairway to heeeeaaaaavvvvveeeennnnnnnn" but they'd just think I was demented so I hum it in my head and watch them go up with my fingers crossed. After about the 2nd or third visit they're tackling the stairs in stilletos while texting and I'm sure that I liked it better when they were terrified!

I enjoy my weekends. Doing nothing, working around the house, hanging out with the family or just plain chillin' all day in nothing but jammies. When Pete invites her friends over all that's gone and I'm up and down till 2 or 3 in the morning because I've been woken up by giggles, screams, or huge THUDS when one of the girls have fallen off Pete's full size bed. Two other EMPTY beds in the house yet there are four girls in one bed! How can you say somebody pushed you off the bed when there's 4 of you in a bed made for two?

What really makes me question brain function is when they all get ready to go somewhere. Man what an event this is! You'll never see them more focused! You'll never see any of them concentrate more on what's going on! You'll never see ever again in your life such attention to detail! Put the shirt on, take the shirt off. Switch shirts with this girl. Loan your pants to the other girl because those do more for her butt than they do for yours. Hair up...hair back down. Wet hair again...straighten hair. Ribbon doesn't match...change shirt to match ribbon. Old boots....new boots. Part to the left...back to the right. Position hair to cover pimple on chin. Pose in the mirror, stand to the side..now the other side. Look over your shoulder at your butt...make your seconds ago loaned out pants be given back..change shirts...forget the ribbon. Pull shirt up 2 to 3 inches from the EXTREMELY low rise jeans to expose some skin...pose again making this statement...."Oh my gosh! I'm so fat!" (knowing that 14 Big Mac's wouldn't put so much as an extra ounce on the scales). Friends reply: "No you're not! I am...look!" expose flawless belly and put on fake disappointment face. Group huddle...snap picture. Group huddle again..snap picture. Pete & one friend...snap picture. Pete with another friend...snap picture. Continue this process until all friends are photographed (building up that portfolio for America's Next Top Model I guess...only they know for sure!) Then it's my turn to take pictures of them all. Pete with one friend...snap! Pete with another friend..snap! Group picture. Group picture minus one. Group picture minus two. OMGosh!!! I'm blind! I'll never see Emma again! I'll have to feel out her features!
Pete: Ok ya'll what perfume do you like?
Sniff that one..then this one. Pssstt. Pssst. Pssst! My house smells like the fragrance counter at Belks and they're off! Everyone of them says "Bye Mom"...I just wave in the direction that I hear the voices coming from then feel my way to bed because I know that I'll need to get up mighty early to wash all of those clothes that were on bodies for negative 20 seconds! O the filth negative 20 seconds accumulates! Wash them for goodness sakes!

Baby books have been around for I don't know how long now & I don't know of a single mother in the world who doesn't have one. Those books have a flaw though. They should extend far past babyhood. They should go into the junior high years and even later still into the senior high years and married life. Take it one step more into motherhood for your baby's baby book. Yes, do trace your child's life slam up until she herself is a mother. I mean after all, she is YOUR baby regardless of age.

In the junior high years you could post for your precious angel a picture...the same one that's in the year book because you and all of Gods angels know she's not going anywhere with the family for a potrait it's just not cool! The year book picture would show her with hair as hard as concrete and a hard headed attitude to match. It would be nice if you could clip a sprig or two for the little envelope on the corner of the page but that would require the blade of a granite tile cutter & his skills. In these your baby's "blossoming" school years she is an Einstein & the darling girl knows it all and only listens to what you have to say if you're saying "yes". This is also the time that you as a mother will begin to lose any sense of sanity you were once so blessed with. Note this in the form of a graph right there on the junior high page of your baby's baby book so that you can begin to track just exactly when it is you'll need to take your very first Prozac dose!

In the senior high years of your little angel you'll start to see where she really does have a brain and it looks as if she may be allowing it to do other things outside of control her breathing and other involuntary reflex actions. Such pride you feel in her until she starts to hang out with HIM...the one whose soul purpose in life is to see how close he can come to making you like one of the followers of Charles Manson. Your baby thinks he's cooler than the latest IPod while you want to beat him to death with one! Who is this girl now? You had her! You raised her thus far! What happened? The only way you could possibly get her attention when he's around would be to set yourself on fire and that would only add to the already mounting expense of her being a senior. You should probably put a match to the senior high baby book page as a reminder of your rage against him and her lack of attention where you, her mother is concerned! Just set it on fire for a second or two then put it out. Years from now this charred page will serve to remind you of the fact that you would've gone to hell had you done what you then wanted. It would bring you some pleasure great or small to know that HE is by now married with 6 kids and living in a single wide with his family. What did you expect on a Sonic Burger salary? One other thing, you should probably stop and say a little prayer that he doesn't grow up to be the CEO of Samsung. Should fate throw in this curve ball then by all means be prepared to either tolerate the "I told you so" thing or move & change your identity.

Awwww...look at the baby book page now! She's getting married! Your wallet's going: "You're kidding me right?" but it's the last thing you'll do for her as your baby. At least that's what you tell yourself. So you chip in here and there. You get what you can so that her day will be special. Who cares that you have an abcessed tooth, ingrown toe nails and a bad back? You'll pay last months power bill this month and this month's power bill next month and there you go...your little darling has what she's always wanted for her wedding. You'll stand back and watch her be all giggly with her bridesmaids and bridal shower guests while you brown bag some of the food since you can no longer afford to eat unless its out of a garbage can. You'll sit back and notice how her hair is the color of yours and has the same curl to it. She'll turn to the side and you'll think how she looks like her daddy but face on she reminds you of yourself. You'll remember the teenage angst and the battles, the laughter and the tears and then she'll walk down the isle in that dress and you'll think when it's all done....ALL THAT FOR LESS THAN 30 MINUTES?!?!? ...and she's gone. The next time you see her and her husband the two of you will be almost like strangers and your heart will break. It will be the one and only time you'll wish your little angel had never met him. He helped her grow up. On this baby book page you should probably put a picture of just you and her. A picture of her right after you had her because it was in that moment that your heart was so filled with love that no one else on earth existed. Put that picture there and no other. You'll need to turn to this page more as time goes on.

The last and final page of your baby's baby book should be when she's got a baby of her own. For nine months you'll wonder what her baby will look like as much as she will. You'll watch her belly grow, watch her wobble when she walks and you'll dread for her her labor pains. He'll call you when it's time and you'll be so anxious you can hardly sit still but she doesn't want you near and every piece of advise you give her is met with a smirk. You'll wonder why. What did you do? How long has she thought of you as an annoyance? What is it that you're doing that annoys her so? Is it everything or does it just feel like it. You've never heard her speak to any other adult the way she speaks to you. You were the one who taught her not to do such a thing & so you can literally feel your heart shatter when she looks at you that way and spits out words so nasty they sting. You'll catch yourself time and again not saying anything at all to avoid that "useless" feeling. When did it happen that everything you say is immediately labeled as stupid, ridiculous, foolish or even red neck? When did this child of yours stop caring if she hurt your feelings and would often times rather hurt yours than her friends? When did you become an after thought? You will remember times when, even though she was right there you would still call her on your way home or send her an e mail from work. You'll catch yourself in a disbelieving state physically speaking the words...."we were so close". Wrestle with your memory and see if you can figure out when it was that she started giving you short answers to questions meant to spark a conversation. She once would share her news and you would share yours and the conversation always ended in "I love you". Write that down on this the last page of your baby's baby book. Write in bold red print....."I LOVE YOU" then find a picture of your baby...make it your favorite picture. It doesn't matter how old she was in it just that it's your favorite for whatever reason. Now place that picture there with the words then close the book and put it away. The world is full of things to do and you've done the biggest one already. Go and find the you that was almost completely lost in the role of being mom...but always have your phone turned on because you never know when she might call to say "I love you Mom."

This past weekend I went to see Emma in Georgia. The trip for me is about 5 or 6 hours long depending on if I'm going to be brave enough to break every speeding law in the land. I've made this trip enough times now to know pretty much what to expect. It occured to me on my way back this Sunday that I can just about tell you where the driver of a car is from before I see the tags. For example: If I see a filthy 1990 Pontiac Grand Am with a set of ears, red hair and a line of chewing tobacco spit down the drivers & passengers side doors then I know the driver is from Tennessee. He's usually going 10 to 15 miles over the speed limit and once he passes that's your two second chance to see what slogan is written beside any of the 6 Rebel flags that adorn his bumper that's being held up by the ever faithful duct tape. Seriously, I've never met anyone from Tennessee that DIDN'T have red hair. I won't even give you the reason why I think THAT might be! I will say though that you could get arrested for it!

Now if I happen along beside a jet black 2010 Cadillac Escalade with midnight black window tint then I know two things: 1. WATCH OUT! This guy has a total eclipse going on right there inside his ride and probably thinks its night which means he could very well fall asleep at any moment! 2. The driver is no doubt about it dealing and delivering cocaine and is bobbing his head slowly to some Lil Wayne tune as he laughs at the blue collar workers he's passing along the way. Where's the driver from? Where else...Florida! Most likely Miami. He's jammin' to Lil Wayne and I'm humming the Miami Vice theme wishing Crocket and Tubbs would pop up out of the back seat of that Escalade and snap some cuffs on the driver and the posse that I know is in there somewhere with the head bobbing dude! I missed my calling. I should've been undercover vice cruising 95 in a metallic gunpowder grey Charger with a scoop! .

When I see someone coming up beside me I look down in their car and if it's like cold enough to see your breath and/or to hang a side of beef and the driver, his wife and the 3 kids in the back seat have on T shirts and micro mini cut off shorts then I know that those people are from Maine! The dead giveaway is the black one strap Nike swoosh flip flops with tube socks. When in doubt, check the feet out! Riddle me this: What would possess you to get in your car (a 2009 Toyota Yaris by the way) and drive 14 to 16 hours with 3 kids??? Are the kids really asleep in the back seat or did you knock them unconscious oh say around about New York? I bet they are unconscious because they asked the dreaded question one too many times, the one every child asks on a long trip: "Are we there yet?" Should I call 911 for child abuse? Nah, they've done this before. Mom has smelling salts waiting for them. Those yankees are just so smart!

A red truck, a black truck, a Ford or a Chevrolet. Jacked up a little higher than usual or so high you've got to buy a step ladder as an accessory; if you see a cartoon white bulldog baring his teeth sticker anywhere on this vehicle you can bet the grandkids inheritance the driver is from Georgia. If that's not enough of a clue then look for the elbow or forearm dangling from the drivers side window. This guys going to drive beside you for a mile or FIVE so that you can't hear yourself think because of the WAH, WAH, WAH, WAH from his tires! WAH, WAH tires =manly man in Georgia! If this truck slows down it's so the WAH, WAH from his tires doesn't drown out the George Jones CD he just put in! This is your chance to get as far away as possible or end your trip with ringing ears and a migraine!

So, you're trying to come off an entry ramp back on to 95 and you and the guard rail are about to get to know each other a little more than you ever wanted to because the as*hole in the red convertible Sebring won't let you over even though the highway is currently like the population of Mars! Three lanes to choose from and he's not moving...he's smirking for sure but he's not moving. Where's he from? No where else but New York! Maybe I should add that to my list of "Why I dearly despise the New York Yankees" don't you think? It's times like these that I wish they sold bottled pee in the convenience stores off of 95 so that I could keep me some under the seat for New York drivers in convertibles! Hmmm...I could be an entrepreneur! Hire me a pitch man...go on QVC and sell my bottled pee by the millions! I could call it SAY MO! (Stupid Ass Yankee Move Over) I would out sell Joan Rivers and her Family Dollar Store looking jewlery for sure! I'll hit the patent office up first thing tomorrow! "Say Bro...don't you need some SAY MO?" How's that for a slogan?!

Here comes a white, well ok, it's dirty but it's supposed to be white van! The spare is being used so it's lopsided. All of the windows look like they have that sticky paper on them. You know that paper you can buy to make a window look like it's etched? That's what it looks like all over the vans windows but it's just that dirty...for real! Of the 6 people in the van that you can count none of them are moving. I mean they're not talking to each other, not looking at each other, not playing the ABC we've got a long trip ahead of us game nothing! They're all, even the driver, like manneqins! My first thought: They all ate at that truck stop that also has XXX rated DVDs on sale and they've gotten food poisoning which is effecting their muscles! When the Rottweilers head pops up barking like crazy and slinging foam and STILL the people don't move is when I know it's time to press the old gas pedal with some gusto and get out of the way! West Virginia tags...I don't think I need to say more! How far can you go on a dough nut spare anyway?

On the front of a Beamer coming along beside me is a UNC Chapel Hill tag! The Tarheel colors are proudly displayed by the driver and she fits the college girl image. How cute is she? Blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, petite compact cheerleader body. A necklace is what it looks like is hanging from her rear view mirror. It's probably some sorority thing huh? Clean, nice car! I wonder where she and her parents are from? I bet she's driving to see them. Her mom is probably a professor somewhere while her dad is some lawyer who has commercials on every tv station south of the Mason Dixon. Both of them went to UNC so the obvious place for Buffy to go is UNC as well! I mean she's a shoe in after the huge dinner party hosted by bejeweled mom with all of the who's who in admissions at UNC. She drives on past me...GASP! Say it ain't so! NO! This can't be! The tags PLAINLY read: SOUTH CAROLINA! Blasphemy! There should be an eleventh commandment about this! I'm immediately disappointed in Buffy and believe wholeheartedly that she should be grounded for the rest of her life! You're either a Tarheel or a Gamecock fan Buffy...You can't be both! Make up your mind or the maid will no longer do your dirty laundry!
Now you can't tell me you've never paid any attention to people as they're driving! You haven't? Really? Well then, might I suggest I95 north or south...it really doesn't matter. O the things you'll see...surely something to write home about!

I haven't been walking like I should. For pretty close to a month I was walking at least 3 times a week for 30 minutes up to an hour. Since I've got off today I figured I go walk around the cemetary and be done with the exercise idea for the day.
Mr. Daskall's gravesite is always the first one I notice. Not just because it's the biggest one near the parking spaces but also because it's the headstone me and Jan used to sit on to watch the cars go by & to catch our breath before we got back on our ten speeds to wander the neighborhood. Yeah, I know that's awful but we were 14 and the headstone was cool to our butts in the summer. At first I thought the whole idea of sitting on someone who was dead was pretty eerie but Jan, whose daddy was a mortician, saw nothing wrong with it (imagine that) so when in Rome I guess.
Jan & I were always making plans to do something together during the weekends. I would spend the night with her or she'd spend the night with me. We'd go to the movies or drive around in her moms car illegally (we were 14 remember?) or the aforementioned...ride our ten speeds from sun up till just about sundown. I remember one weekend in particular that we had really big plans! We were going shopping AND we were going to the movies! We were both so excited we could hardly wait! Thursday afternoon rolls around and Jan and I are parting ways at Rockingham Junior High all smiles and giggles because Friday's almost here and lots of fun awaits us! At last it's Friday but I don't see Jan. I've not passed her in the halls not even once. Oh no, I hope she's not sick! That would ruin EVERYTHING! What if she changed her mind and invited Pam instead and just hasn't told me? THAT'S not going to happen...I'm WAY more fun than Pam! I'll just call her when I get home. When school's out and I'm finally home is when I learned why I didn't see Jan. Mama told me as soon as my feet hit the back door. "Looks like you won't be going to Jan's this afternoon."
"Why?" I said. "Jan's grandma died of a heart attack last night." I felt so sorry for Jan but being so young I had no idea what to do or what to say to Jan. Mama said "You should just call her up and tell her you're sorry to hear about her grandmother." I didn't want to do that! Ewww, her granny just died! I'm not saying anything! What if Jan's crying? What if I can hear her whole family crying? In my household we all live forever I'm not doing the "die" thing EVER!
After a considerable amount of nudging from Mama I finally did call Jan and I was fortunate that she answered the phone. My hand was shaking as I held the phone, my voiced cracked and my eyes began to fill with tears as my not so steady voice said, "Sorry to hear about your granny Jan. Is there anything I can do?" For as long as I live I'll never forget Jan's response. In fairness though I have to remind you that Jan's dad was a mortician. Jan said:

"She just had to die on a day that we had plans! She just ruined EVERYTHING! Mom said the whole weekend is SHOT all because GRANDMA had to DIE!"

You know, I don't have even the smallest of clues as to what I said after that. I'm sure that I spent some time getting my chin up off the floor but besides that what was my response? I'd bet Jan can't even remember. Of course I told mama what Jan said and if you know my mama at all then you know she wasn't too fond of Jan after that and so our little friendship fizzled and Pam took my place. It's funny after more than 30 years I still don't like Pam for being Jan's friend back then. Well....Jan did fun stuff. We lived on the edge driving illegally and dodging traffic on our bikes!
I thought about all of this as I walked around Eastside & it dawned on me yet again the valuable lessons I learned from Jan the day her granny died. Thing is, I didn't realize how valuable they were until decades later.
1. Death comes regardless of what you might have intended... it comes when it wants.
2. No matter how healthy, or how unhealthy, how young, how old, or how spiritual you are, you too will die.
3. Death is not something to fear, it is a part of living. From the second you are born your clock starts ticking. What makes it life is all the things that happen from that first tick to the last tock.

It's been debated among people for years and years as to weather or not they would want to know the time of their death. Having been diagnosed with a potentially deadly disease I can tell you first hand that there is a great deal of peace you find within yourself when you know you may very well be going to meet your maker. I hate to be cliche' but it's like you've waited to exhale all of your life up until that point that you learn you may be leaving. It's like...Ok Jesus, I'm ready! Take me from this place to one much better and THANK YOU so much for giving me the chance to make amends and to do a little work for you before I go! Your forgiveness and mercy reminds me of how unworthy I am of your sacrifice for me & I stand amazed! Take me when you will but please don't let my family see me suffer. Ready when you are!
I hope when the Lord calls me home for many things; not the least of which are these:

1. I hope that my mom and dad are gone before me because my death alone would cause theirs.
2. If I am to suffer, I hope my family doesn't have to see it and forever have that memory etched in their brains.
3. I hope that I've gotten the courage to do the right thing and apologize to ALL of those that I have wronged.
4. My children will miss me but I hope that they will remember that it's my body that's gone, who I am in part lives on through them (just leave the temper part of my soul out ok?).
5. I hope that in some small way I have made a positive impact in at least one persons life.
6. Don't buy a plot, vault, casket & headstone for you to come talk to or put flowers on. I hope that instead my ashes will be thrown in with the water, sand and sun where my heart is...where my fondest memories of childhood are...where I've always found peace...I hope I will be left at Carolina Beach.

One 30 minute walk reminded me of all of this. What a precious gift life is! What a waste of time it is to be angry, sad or worried! I'm going to go live for a while. I hope everyone I love does the same.

Joe Broady is this big black guy that I went to school with. In the movie The Green Mile there's this huge man who reminds me of Joe. It's the same deep voice and intimidating size that says 'leave me be' and you do just that. I don't remember Joe ever saying any more than a couple of sentences a day. He used words as if they were alloted to him and he was always teetering on the edge of using them all up. Joe walked slow, spoke slow and was slow to anger.
We were all at school waiting on the bus to come pick us up when this group of guys did their usual tormenting of Roger. The poor boy would be pushed around, punched and called all kinds of names and all he could do was take it. He was out numbered and had the odds been better he was still far to small to even attempt to protect himself successfully. Roger just took it everyday...five days a week. Five days of torture. I noticed something though. I noticed that Joe was watching what was happening to Roger and he was talking to some of his friends about it.
"It ain't right the way they do that boy! Ain't none of my business but that ain't right!"
The bullies continued to pick on Roger and I continued to watch Joe and to strain to listen when he spoke to his buddies. Finally one day I watched Joe watching Roger suffer through yet another torture session. His eyebrows went down, his lips went into a straight line and he got up off that bench at Rockingham Junior High School and he walked over to the bullies and said one thing: "From now on when you touch Roger it's gonna be the same as you touching me! Do you see what I'm saying?" One guy told Joe that it had nothing to do with and that he should sit down and shut up. You could've heard a pin drop. Only the wind moved.
Joe clinched the boys shirt in his hand and pulled him inches from his own face and he said it again: "You touch Roger, you touching me! Don't make me do this!"
Nobody said another word. All eyes were glued to what was taking place at the bus stop. We all watched Joe sit back down and unclinch his fists. Roger, needless to say was never bothered again.
Joe Broady went on to graduate from Richmond Senior High School Class of 1979! From there he went on to serve his country in The United States Marine Corps. Joe spent 20 years serving us all. He was in his youth a defender of the weak and it carried through into his adulthood. I'm proud of Joe Broady and what he did way back in 1976 & I'm proud of him now! This man was military before he even knew it!

The room that I use as an office is also the cats room and gathers dust, cat hair and cat litter pretty fast. I've been tired of the bookcase that was in here. It shrank the room and cluttered it more. There was nothing else to do today so I cleaned the room up and started throwing things away.
As I was cleaning things...dusting them off I picked up a Coke bottle full of different colored sand corked up to make it last forever. Then there was a funny shaped bottle done the same way and at last there was a plastic one filled with colored sand as well and this one had a Winnie The Pooh sticker on it. These bottles match nothing in this room but my girls made them so they'll stay for as long as I do. I'm almost certain we did these precious momentos on a beach trip.
There's a basket full of sea shells and pieces of sea shells filled to over flowing. There's another in the bathroom. In a shiney gold gift bag there are even more sea shells. Not a single one that my childrens hands have touched have been thrown away. The years add up...so do the beach trips...so do the sea shells.
When it comes to the photo albums I can't help but sit for a little while and remember those days when my kids hands did all the things that add to this room and add to my life. I see Wendi smiling as she plays in the ocean....I would guess she's 3 or 4. Candi's buried to her neck in sand and you can see the freckles across the bridge of her cute little nose. Stephie's hair is short and as usual for her and her age group she doesn't want her picture made in her cute one piece bathing suit.
All over the floor there are books. Little Golden Books, Baby Sitter Club books, Madeline and Pippy Longstockings. My favorite though is "Guess How Much I Love You". I had to stop and read it. It's just the sweetest children's story I think I've ever read.
This one room breaks my heart. It's filled to capacity with memories of my childrens childhood.
This room reminds me of all the things I didn't do and wish I could now....but of course its too late.
I'm not ashamed of the material things I didn't provide for them. I'm ashamed that as they played in the ocean, Iwasn't in it with them. When the hole was being dug for the girls to be buried in where was I? When we're walking the trails in the mountains picking up beautiful fall colored leaves was I participating? When my child was being picked on why wasn't I the first to know? What was I doing?
I let years pass me by as my girls grew up right there in front of me.
In the pictures I see Candi's solemn face and I wonder 'how does she remember her childhood'. Wendi smiles in practically all of her pictures so I think 'look how happy she is'. Then I remember when her daddy left and how difficult that was for her. I wonder if I did enough to help her. Then there's Stephie's pictures. I don't think I ever told her how proud I am of her. Even when she was small. I was just far too busy trying to be me rather than be her mom. If my tears were to be gathered, I could create a river. If my regrets were pennies....I'd be a millionaire.

Out of the five of mama's children I'd have to say that I was the one that caused her and daddy the most grief. Mama reminds me that from the very beginning she knew I was going to be trouble....I was born breach. Yep, showed my ass before I even saw the light of day !
About two weeks later I was kidnapped! My sister took me out of the crib when I was little and put me under it so that she could see just how close she could come to having mama institutionalized when she couldn't find me. After that it was third degree sunburns and that deathly under tow at Carolina Beach, dog bites, multiple bee stings, mud to my armpits, and stitches in my knees and heal from where my sister PUSHED me down the stairs! She tells a different story. Ignore her if she ever brings it up. At fifteen I'd sneak mama's station wagon keys up to my bedroom and wait for them to go to sleep. When the window panes rattled I knew they were snoring up a storm and I could stick dynamite under their beds and they'd barely roll over. Down the front porch rails I'd go carefully putting my foot in the deepest curve of the "S" shape pattern. I'll never know why I didn't fall and break my neck. I guess it was my purpose on this earth to test the patience of my parents and I just wasn't anywhere near being finished with my job! I was cool in that wood grain station wagon cruising up to Raider Deck with no drivers license, hardly any gas at all (daddy likes to see how far he can push a tank of gas...always has) and not one brain in my body! I'd pull up in that bus of a ride, park it with the rest of the cars out there and walk in like I owned the place. I'd leave when I wanted to and if my friends needed a ride and were near by I'd go get them too all with the fumes daddy left for me!
Then there was the time I jumped off Ledbetter bridge. I thought that was so cool that I went home and told daddy....a week after the fact! I didn't bother to tell him that I did it when we were skipping school and I sure didn't tell him that we skipped school in a friends car and that none of us in the car had even the first sign of a VALID drivers license (I now see a pattern after all these years...do you??) So after the devil flew all into daddy and he proceeded to give me that glare that makes you go potty on yourself he and I went back out to the bridge! Imagine this trip. I'm sitting on the passenger side praying that we'll get four flat tires and daddy will have something else to be mad at besides me. My fingers are crossed, my legs are crossed everything I can cross is crossed wishing for luck! We get there...daddy pulls over...he makes me get out...I'm expecting him to tie cinder blocks to my ankles and throw me over but instead he says..."Look!"..and points at the water. It's summer and there's been a draught and the water level is lower so all over the place are stumps that look like sharpened pencils! Seriously, if you didn't know better you'd swear that someone got out there with a giant pencil sharpener and got those stumps to the finest point you can imagine! "When do you think you'll be jumping again Rita?" Of course I couldn't answer him, I was too busy looking in the back of that same station wagon I stole on the weekends for two cinder blocks and some rope! I didn't know what to do and my voice box was for sure on strike so I just shrugged my shoulders! Ooooh. Wrong answer! I don't remember everything daddy said but let me put it this way. There was some mention of having my IQ tested as well as increasing some life insurance policy and I heard something about putting me on the bus with Rusty. I was also put on restriction till I was fifty. Of course when I heard that I thought..."you've got to sleep sometime" and immediately thought..."It's a good thing my voice box ain't working or that would've came right out!"
From that it was sneaking cigarettes. Me and a friend of mine would get us some of Mama's Silva Thins, matches, an ash tray and of course the car keys and head upstairs to go to bed early because we were "tired". Actually we went to bed so we could get up later in the night and listen out for the sonic snoring indicating it was cool to exit the premises via the roof/porch rail!
My friend's a chicken so she scooted her way across the roof dragging every crumb of the shingles face off into her skin and clothes. I've got half my body off the roof feeling around for the railing with my foot when she says..."I can't do this, I'm scared I'll fall". "Yes you can just come on hurry up!"
"I can't do it!"
" I can't do it!"
"CAN'T!"
"CAN'T!"
Ok, now the chicken is yelling to the top of her lungs and she's almost directly over mama and daddys room! This is great! "Ssssshhhhh! Ssssshhhh! Shut up! Shut up!"...foot still looking for the railing....on go the next door neighbors lights! Both of us freeze and FINALLY she shuts that chicken mouth of hers! I inch my way back to her like a spy so no one sees me and then I realize it..... Oh yesss...the neighbors are drunk AND they're fighting! Now THAT'S entertainment! So we sit on the roof like it's a front row seat to some huge boxing event, smoke our stolen cigarettes and mock the neighbors. This one was going to be a good one....a good long one. "Hmmmm" my friend says..."didn't I see some beer in your refrigerator?"
I sat on the peak of the roof while the chicken sat holding on to the storm window we climbed out of with one hand and a Natural Light with the other. The next time I saw her was when we had HER mama's stolen cigarettes (we kinda took turns stealing cigs so the guilt was split...that's what friends do right?) in my bedroom smoking them as if our intent was to single handedly pollute the world. We hear my mama just as she rounds the top stair and shove burning cigarettes in my night stand drawer. I remember thinking..."Just get me out of this one without the fire department having to be called in and that's it for me and the chicken! I told her to go out on the roof!"
When I'm ready to rip out every strand of Pete's hair because she's so...so??? so teenagerish I force myself to stop and think...well has she ever jumped into a bed of sharpened pencils? Has she driven all over the place without a license? How about sneaked out on the roof for a puff off a stolen cigarette? No, she hasn't done any of those.* I wonder though if she'd do a little better at being more well behaved if she felt the threat of cinder blocks?

*disclaimer: Pete's not done these things AS FAR AS I know.