Have you ever looked at yourself? I mean REALLY looked at yourself to find out why you are the way you are? Why you do the things you do? How you got where you are in life? It's called self discovery. If you haven't done it yet, I suggest you do. When I was in my 20's I struggled a bit with myself. I didn't really know who I was, what I was doing, why I acted the way I did and how I had gotten where I had. But then I went through a process of self discovery, and it all made sense. It has been many years since I went through self discovery, so now I am satisfied with myself completely. I know who I am. I know why I do the things I do, why I act the way I do, and how I got to where I am.
I married my high school sweetheart. So did my sister. Do you think that's a coincidence? It certainly is not. And I know why we both did. My sister's marriage didn't last, but that was not her choice. If things had not gone down the way they did, she would probably still be married to him. I don't really want to get into all of the details and air the dirty laundry, let's just say her husband did something that is hard to forgive.
My mom stayed with my dad even though he was an "alcoholic" and emotionally and verbally abusive. We later found out he was not an alcoholic, but was instead bipolar. You can read my earlier post "a Bipolar Dad" to find out all about that situation. I wouldn't call my dad physically abusive because there may have been a push or shove here and there but nothing was physically "violent." But, he was definitely verbally abusive to all of us when he was drinking or on his depressive slide. Yet, my mom stayed. She never wavered. Even though things got tough or rough here and there, she stayed, she made it work.
So do you think it's an accident that my sister and I both married our very first boyfriends? No. We learned through watching. You just make it work, no matter what, you make it work. Interesting huh? I'm not saying that in retrospect, I shouldn't have married my husband, what I'm saying is that if I had been raised differently, like if my parents had gotten a divorce, I doubt I would have married my first ever boyfriend. It's strange to think about.
I believe everything goes back to how you were raised. But, I don't believe all actions can be BLAMED on how you are raised. For example, Jeffrey Dahmer had a very unstable upbringing. He decided to be a serial killer. Scott Peterson had a seemingly wonderful upbringing but if you dig deeper, he only acted perfectly because he was afraid of being abandoned. I am reading a book about him "Inside the Mind of Scott Peterson" by Keith Ablow. It's fascinating stuff. His mother's father was murdered and then she had a horrible upbringing. She passed this on to her son. It's as though this stuff breeds, you pass it on. You'd have to read it. Scott murdered Laci, and it is all because of how he was raised. I'm not saying he should be forgiven. He CHOSE to murder her. But it all goes back to his past. You aren't BORN a thief or a murderer. Things happen in your life to point you in that direction. The question is, are you strong enough to take the right path?
You can't blame your behavior on your upbringing because you can CHOOSE how to act once you are an adult. But you CAN UNDERSTAND why you think the way you do, BECAUSE of your upbringing. Does that make sense?
My husband and I have a pretty good marriage. We are friends. However, we don't have that much in common. We don't share a lot of interests. But, I didn't even really know who I was until I hit my 30's. Does anyone else feel that way? I thought I knew who I was in my 20's but I didn't. I had to go through self discovery to find out who I was. I lost my best friend (long story and another blog all together, I didn't lose her physically, but I lost her emotionally), and my sister lost her husband when I was in my mid-twenties. That divorce affected me a lot because I thought of him as my brother. And suddenly my best friend and my brother were gone. I felt like my world was falling apart. This was also a period of time when my marriage was strained. Marriage is hard. It is not easy. It takes work on both sides. It only works out 50% of the time. So if one person gives up, even just a little, it takes work to get things back on track, or they fall off the track for good.
I came through that period in my life but it was hard and it took a lot of self discovery for me to come out the other side. I never went to therapy but I feel like my self discoveries were my own little therapy sessions. It helped so much. I looked at my childhood and how I was raised. I came to understand why I made the decisions I did and a lot reflected on my parents. It just helped me to UNDERSTAND.
So yeah, are my husband and I supposed to be together? I think so. We have 3 wonderful kids and we have more good days than bad. Could I have been with someone else? Sure. I don't think there is only one person for everyone. I could have made different decisions in my life if I had been raised differently. I could have had 5 boyfriends after my first boyfriend and married my 6th. And would I be happy? Probably. I don't believe in ONE person for everyone, FATE and all that. I think things happen because of your OWN decisions. And where you end up after that, is up to you. You can choose to make things work or you can choose to take a different path. It is all up to you. But it's not fate. It's you. And this is...JUST ME...and I'm happy where I am today. Are you?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Crissy's Top 10 Cleanliness Secrets
So there was a recent discussion on cleanliness and I thought I would share my TOP 10 Cleanliness Secrets - CRISSY STYLE. Try em', you'll love em'! (I wrote this list a few years ago, but I always pull it out to reshare)
1. Never put the dishes in the dishwasher until NOT ONE MORE dirty dish will fit in that sink. (Such a daily time saver). As a side note, never wash the dishes until NOT ONE MORE dish can fit into the DISHWASHER.
2. If your cat or dog pukes on your carpet, don't clean it right away. Cleaning it right away means dealing with a nasty stain, not to mention puky matter. Wait AT LEAST 48 hours, preferably 72 hours. At that point all you have to do is pick up or vacuum the DRY matter, then do a once over with carpet cleaner. Such a time saver, if you can stand to walk over the puke for 3 days (which I so can.)
3. When washing clothes, don't separate darks and lights and whites. There is no need. Just wash them all together. I have never had any clothes dye other clothes. The only time this might be a hazard is if an item of clothing is new, then you might want to wash it with like colors. Otherwise, just throw em' all in, HUGE Time Saver!!! (I have been doing this for about 10 years).
4. When your clothes say "Dry Clean Only", Whatever, don't listen. Just wash it. Don't dry it though, hang it to dry. I do this all of the time and I have never had an article of clothing ruined. Then again my wardrobe is from Old Navy. If it says "hand wash only" you had better listen though, as one of my sweaters is now going to an 8 year old at daycare.
5. Do you buy beer by the huge 24 pack boxes? If so, those are immediate Toy Boxes, you can place them in all corners of the house. Then you won't be walking on cars in the middle of the night.
6. Are any of you out there raking leaves? Why? All you have to do is mow them up a few times. It creates mulch which is actually GOOD for your lawn. I don't understand these people who are still raking leaves. And if you have SO MANY leaves that you can't just mulch them, well then get that little bag attachment on your mower. No one should be using a rake anymore.
7. Folding clothes right out of the dryer? Why? Who cares? Keep them in your clean laundry basket until you want to wear it again. (This only works with an Old Navy wardrobe).
8. Have a dog that poops a lot? Don't bother picking up the poop and putting it in an environmentally friendly bag for the recyclers to pick up. Just pick up the poop and put it in an area of the yard where you don't walk much, preferably one in a wooded or bushy area that is not noticeable and out of range from your nose. This recycles into the GROUND. It is nature's way! You people are working too hard.
9. Don't wash your jeans every time you wear them. You can wear them at least 3-5 times. (this I am just learning) Unless you smell. Same with towels after a shower. Sheets I would recommend weekly if you have a dog that sleeps with you. If you don't have a dog you can wash sheets every OTHER week.
10. Dusting every week? Why? Who cares. Dust when you have company coming over. Same with making your bed. There is no reason to do it.
And there you have my top 10 cleanly secrets!
Here's to having more time for fun! This is JUST ME! - Crissy
1. Never put the dishes in the dishwasher until NOT ONE MORE dirty dish will fit in that sink. (Such a daily time saver). As a side note, never wash the dishes until NOT ONE MORE dish can fit into the DISHWASHER.
2. If your cat or dog pukes on your carpet, don't clean it right away. Cleaning it right away means dealing with a nasty stain, not to mention puky matter. Wait AT LEAST 48 hours, preferably 72 hours. At that point all you have to do is pick up or vacuum the DRY matter, then do a once over with carpet cleaner. Such a time saver, if you can stand to walk over the puke for 3 days (which I so can.)
3. When washing clothes, don't separate darks and lights and whites. There is no need. Just wash them all together. I have never had any clothes dye other clothes. The only time this might be a hazard is if an item of clothing is new, then you might want to wash it with like colors. Otherwise, just throw em' all in, HUGE Time Saver!!! (I have been doing this for about 10 years).
4. When your clothes say "Dry Clean Only", Whatever, don't listen. Just wash it. Don't dry it though, hang it to dry. I do this all of the time and I have never had an article of clothing ruined. Then again my wardrobe is from Old Navy. If it says "hand wash only" you had better listen though, as one of my sweaters is now going to an 8 year old at daycare.
5. Do you buy beer by the huge 24 pack boxes? If so, those are immediate Toy Boxes, you can place them in all corners of the house. Then you won't be walking on cars in the middle of the night.
6. Are any of you out there raking leaves? Why? All you have to do is mow them up a few times. It creates mulch which is actually GOOD for your lawn. I don't understand these people who are still raking leaves. And if you have SO MANY leaves that you can't just mulch them, well then get that little bag attachment on your mower. No one should be using a rake anymore.
7. Folding clothes right out of the dryer? Why? Who cares? Keep them in your clean laundry basket until you want to wear it again. (This only works with an Old Navy wardrobe).
8. Have a dog that poops a lot? Don't bother picking up the poop and putting it in an environmentally friendly bag for the recyclers to pick up. Just pick up the poop and put it in an area of the yard where you don't walk much, preferably one in a wooded or bushy area that is not noticeable and out of range from your nose. This recycles into the GROUND. It is nature's way! You people are working too hard.
9. Don't wash your jeans every time you wear them. You can wear them at least 3-5 times. (this I am just learning) Unless you smell. Same with towels after a shower. Sheets I would recommend weekly if you have a dog that sleeps with you. If you don't have a dog you can wash sheets every OTHER week.
10. Dusting every week? Why? Who cares. Dust when you have company coming over. Same with making your bed. There is no reason to do it.
And there you have my top 10 cleanly secrets!
Here's to having more time for fun! This is JUST ME! - Crissy
Monday, September 19, 2011
Blonde haired blue eyed basketball player
I always thought that when I had kids, they would look like me, do what I did, act like me, basically be ME again. Well, it's not turning out that way. But, that's ok. I am learning to be ok with it and I am actually even enjoying it. I guess I will talk about my daughter today because let's face it, she is more like me than my 2 sons because well, she's a girl. She does not have long dark hair and green eyes like me. She is, instead blonde with blue eyes, like her dad. All 3 of my kids have blonde hair and blue eyes. They are very good looking, I just hoped that at least one of them would have my dark hair. Not because I think dark hair is better, but because I just always expected my kid(s) to sort of resemble me. It's funny really, I will be at the park chasing my blonde kids around and people will ask if I'm their babysitter. Um, nope, I'm their mom.
I also thought my daughter (if I had one, which I did) would be in the same sports as me. I was a dancer growing up. But, I hated dance. I only stayed in it for the cross-country trips, and because my sister loved it and because I had a lot of friends there. My daughter doesn't like dance. So, I am happy about that! I don't have to relive that part of my life which I dreaded. But, I was also in competitive swimming, gymnastics and softball. I loved gymnastics the most. I dreamt about gymnastics. I lived gymnastics. My daughter was in it for a few years but she doesn't seem to care about it...at all! She also doesn't have any friends in gymnastics. I didn't either, but I still loved it and made my parents put me in club gymnastics. That was my life! My daughter likes swimming but not the competitive kind. She just likes swimming for fun. Bogus! haha. I actually think competitive swimming was really hard, and I hated it at times but it gave me such drive in life. It made me realize I could do anything I wanted. It was hard, but it made me so strong! I was not very good at softball, but all of my friends were in it. I was afraid of the ball. Of all of these sports, my daughter will most likely be in softball. Well there, 1 out of 3 isn't so bad huh?
I was raised knowing I HAD to be in sports. We got to choose the sport, but we had to be in one every season. My parents thought being in sports would keep us out of trouble, and keep us friends with the "good" kids. I have to say now, looking back, I think they were right. My mom loved basketball and volleyball and she wished I would have chosen those sports. I really went a different route with gymnastics and swimming. But, I never felt her disapproval. She always supported me in everything I did. So anyway, my husband and I have decided to carry on the tradition of making our kids be in sports but letting them pick what sports and/or activities they are.
My daughter was in basketball the past 2 years and she seems to really love it. My husband was in basketball, so of course he is thrilled. It took me awhile but I am realizing that this is going to be "her" sport. She is very good at it and the smile on her face when she gets home from practice is all I need to see to know that I need to support her and be so very happy that she is enjoying herself. I have come to realize that she won't be in gymnastics or swimming. She will probably be in basketball and volleyball (and softball). She is starting volleyball today and all of her friends are in it and I just know she will love it.
So yeah, it looks like my mom is winning this round? She is finally getting her basketball and volleyball player. Does that mean that my future grand-daughter will be a swimmer and gymnast? ;-) I don't know what will happen, or what sports my daughter will choose once she gets to high school, but I do know that I will never show any disapproval of what she picks, and I will be there to support her at every single game or match that she has, just like my mom did for me.
I also thought my daughter (if I had one, which I did) would be in the same sports as me. I was a dancer growing up. But, I hated dance. I only stayed in it for the cross-country trips, and because my sister loved it and because I had a lot of friends there. My daughter doesn't like dance. So, I am happy about that! I don't have to relive that part of my life which I dreaded. But, I was also in competitive swimming, gymnastics and softball. I loved gymnastics the most. I dreamt about gymnastics. I lived gymnastics. My daughter was in it for a few years but she doesn't seem to care about it...at all! She also doesn't have any friends in gymnastics. I didn't either, but I still loved it and made my parents put me in club gymnastics. That was my life! My daughter likes swimming but not the competitive kind. She just likes swimming for fun. Bogus! haha. I actually think competitive swimming was really hard, and I hated it at times but it gave me such drive in life. It made me realize I could do anything I wanted. It was hard, but it made me so strong! I was not very good at softball, but all of my friends were in it. I was afraid of the ball. Of all of these sports, my daughter will most likely be in softball. Well there, 1 out of 3 isn't so bad huh?
I was raised knowing I HAD to be in sports. We got to choose the sport, but we had to be in one every season. My parents thought being in sports would keep us out of trouble, and keep us friends with the "good" kids. I have to say now, looking back, I think they were right. My mom loved basketball and volleyball and she wished I would have chosen those sports. I really went a different route with gymnastics and swimming. But, I never felt her disapproval. She always supported me in everything I did. So anyway, my husband and I have decided to carry on the tradition of making our kids be in sports but letting them pick what sports and/or activities they are.
My daughter was in basketball the past 2 years and she seems to really love it. My husband was in basketball, so of course he is thrilled. It took me awhile but I am realizing that this is going to be "her" sport. She is very good at it and the smile on her face when she gets home from practice is all I need to see to know that I need to support her and be so very happy that she is enjoying herself. I have come to realize that she won't be in gymnastics or swimming. She will probably be in basketball and volleyball (and softball). She is starting volleyball today and all of her friends are in it and I just know she will love it.
So yeah, it looks like my mom is winning this round? She is finally getting her basketball and volleyball player. Does that mean that my future grand-daughter will be a swimmer and gymnast? ;-) I don't know what will happen, or what sports my daughter will choose once she gets to high school, but I do know that I will never show any disapproval of what she picks, and I will be there to support her at every single game or match that she has, just like my mom did for me.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Why I'm Agnostic.
Today's blog is about why I'm agnostic. This isn't a blog to make people become agnostic or to put people down who believe in religion. It is simply to tell my story and how I got here and why I think the way I do.
I was raised Lutheran. We only went to church on holidays so religion was not a big part of my life, but it was present somewhat. I also went through Sunday school, and confirmation. I hated confirmation. In high school I was somewhat popular, if not in the A crowd, definitely in the B crowd. And then I went to confirmation and I was a loner. The church my parents picked was not the one in our town but in the town one over, so there was no one there from my school. That is where I got my first taste of bullying, and feeling alone. (at church, nice). Yeah I hated it. Did I mention that? I hated the stupid long hours and it was so boring. I hated the weekend retreats where I got to eat lunch alone and sit alone and talk to no one. Yeah, real fun. Feeling alone like that was something I was not used to. It made me feel bad for the kids in my own school who didn't have friends.
So anyway, I grew up and went to college and got married, etc. I didn't think much of religion. It was there and I would go to church with my family on holidays but other than that it wasn't really in my life. Then, after college I got a job at a Catholic Church as the administrative/creative assistant. This is where I learned to really despise religion and all that it stood for. I remember an early conversation I had with the Confirmation instructor. He asked what religion I was and I said, "I don't know. I guess I was raised Lutheran but I don't think much about religion." He then went on and on to put Catholicism on a pedestal. I asked him why he was Catholic and he told me he was raised Catholic. I said, "So, what if you were raised Buddhist? Would you be that? What if you were raised Jewish? Would you be that?" He just looked at me oddly and said, "Isn't it better to believe SOMETHING, than NOTHING?" That is when I really started to think. He was just going down the path that his parents told him to. That is when I decided I was not Lutheran but didn't really know what I was.
On 9/11 (Sept. 11, 2001) I really got a bad taste in my mouth for religion. Not only was there the fact that the terrorists attacked our country and it all came back to THEIR religion and beliefs and killing 3,000 innocent Americans to prove their point, but it also hit very close to home. The priest in our church that I worked for was not exactly a "priestly" person. He loved Neil Diamond. He had 3 houses and 7 cars. He called people "fat pigs" and "annoying" when they would walk away from him (and laugh about it). He was all in all, a "yucky" human being. And he was the PRIEST. Nearly all of the people that worked for him and worshipped with him looked up to him as if he was SAINTLY. I saw the other side of him. The ugly side of him.
On 9/11 I saw a VERY ugly side to him. It was such a helpless angry filled emotional day for everyone. No one understood what had just happened. We all walked around empty inside wondering why this was happening. Outside the church a line slowly grew of people wanting to talk to the priest. People wanting some understanding of this horrible event, just wanting someone to talk to that they trusted and that they thought would make them feel better. Granted I think this is silly to come to a priest for this but that's what they did. And do you know what he told me to tell them? "Go tell them I'm in a meeting." OMG. So that's what I had to do. I had to go tell this line of people who were crying and I was on the verge of tears myself, that the preist could not talk to him. He was busy. He was in a MEETING.
Yes, that was the day that I threw in the towel. I decided religion was not for me. That "preist" ended up getting "transferred" a few years after I stopped working there. And it is all so "cliche." Someone found "gay porn" on his computer. So they "transferred" him. Lovely. Problem solved. TRANSFERRED! Next? OMG. Never do they think, maybe this man really is gay and he is so ashamed of it, was raised to believe it was so awful that he decided to become a preist rather than face his sexuality. No that is not even once considered. It is also not normal for someone to have to be forced to be celibate, when sexuality is in our nature. Perhaps this is where the pedophilia comes in to play. I won't even go down this road.
So anyway, I went from working at this church where so many of the "Catholics" were back stabbers and judgmental and really not very nice people, to my next job which was as a graphic designer at a Gay Magazine (quite a switch eh?). Strangely enough, everyone was very open and non-judgmental at the gay magazine. The atmosphere was so different. It was unbelievable. And, it shouldn't have been that way. Aren't the religious people the ones who are supposed to be so loving and open and forgiving? It appears that, in many instances, that is not the case and really quite opposite from it.
I now consider myself Agnostic and have for some time. I am a little jealous of my kids who get to grow up without a religion. They don't have to go through Sunday School or confirmation. I don't put down religion and if they ever choose to go down that road, I will support them. But I want them to decide. For now I do tell them there is a heaven and a God because that is what most of their friends tell them. It gives them peace fore now.
The definition of Agnostic is the view that the truth value of certain claims—especially claims about the existence or non-existence of any deity, but also other religious and metaphysical claims—is unknown or unknowable.[ Basically I don't know if there is a god. There may be and maybe there isn't but there is no way to know that. I can understand Atheism as well because it is very possible there is no god, no heaven, no nothing - just evolution. But I hold out hope that there is SOMETHING in the after life and that is why I'm not an Atheist. I believe in spirits and ghosts and an afterlife and that is why I am not Atheist. But I don't know if I'm right. I never claim that I am. This is, after all, JUST ME.
I was raised Lutheran. We only went to church on holidays so religion was not a big part of my life, but it was present somewhat. I also went through Sunday school, and confirmation. I hated confirmation. In high school I was somewhat popular, if not in the A crowd, definitely in the B crowd. And then I went to confirmation and I was a loner. The church my parents picked was not the one in our town but in the town one over, so there was no one there from my school. That is where I got my first taste of bullying, and feeling alone. (at church, nice). Yeah I hated it. Did I mention that? I hated the stupid long hours and it was so boring. I hated the weekend retreats where I got to eat lunch alone and sit alone and talk to no one. Yeah, real fun. Feeling alone like that was something I was not used to. It made me feel bad for the kids in my own school who didn't have friends.
So anyway, I grew up and went to college and got married, etc. I didn't think much of religion. It was there and I would go to church with my family on holidays but other than that it wasn't really in my life. Then, after college I got a job at a Catholic Church as the administrative/creative assistant. This is where I learned to really despise religion and all that it stood for. I remember an early conversation I had with the Confirmation instructor. He asked what religion I was and I said, "I don't know. I guess I was raised Lutheran but I don't think much about religion." He then went on and on to put Catholicism on a pedestal. I asked him why he was Catholic and he told me he was raised Catholic. I said, "So, what if you were raised Buddhist? Would you be that? What if you were raised Jewish? Would you be that?" He just looked at me oddly and said, "Isn't it better to believe SOMETHING, than NOTHING?" That is when I really started to think. He was just going down the path that his parents told him to. That is when I decided I was not Lutheran but didn't really know what I was.
On 9/11 (Sept. 11, 2001) I really got a bad taste in my mouth for religion. Not only was there the fact that the terrorists attacked our country and it all came back to THEIR religion and beliefs and killing 3,000 innocent Americans to prove their point, but it also hit very close to home. The priest in our church that I worked for was not exactly a "priestly" person. He loved Neil Diamond. He had 3 houses and 7 cars. He called people "fat pigs" and "annoying" when they would walk away from him (and laugh about it). He was all in all, a "yucky" human being. And he was the PRIEST. Nearly all of the people that worked for him and worshipped with him looked up to him as if he was SAINTLY. I saw the other side of him. The ugly side of him.
On 9/11 I saw a VERY ugly side to him. It was such a helpless angry filled emotional day for everyone. No one understood what had just happened. We all walked around empty inside wondering why this was happening. Outside the church a line slowly grew of people wanting to talk to the priest. People wanting some understanding of this horrible event, just wanting someone to talk to that they trusted and that they thought would make them feel better. Granted I think this is silly to come to a priest for this but that's what they did. And do you know what he told me to tell them? "Go tell them I'm in a meeting." OMG. So that's what I had to do. I had to go tell this line of people who were crying and I was on the verge of tears myself, that the preist could not talk to him. He was busy. He was in a MEETING.
Yes, that was the day that I threw in the towel. I decided religion was not for me. That "preist" ended up getting "transferred" a few years after I stopped working there. And it is all so "cliche." Someone found "gay porn" on his computer. So they "transferred" him. Lovely. Problem solved. TRANSFERRED! Next? OMG. Never do they think, maybe this man really is gay and he is so ashamed of it, was raised to believe it was so awful that he decided to become a preist rather than face his sexuality. No that is not even once considered. It is also not normal for someone to have to be forced to be celibate, when sexuality is in our nature. Perhaps this is where the pedophilia comes in to play. I won't even go down this road.
So anyway, I went from working at this church where so many of the "Catholics" were back stabbers and judgmental and really not very nice people, to my next job which was as a graphic designer at a Gay Magazine (quite a switch eh?). Strangely enough, everyone was very open and non-judgmental at the gay magazine. The atmosphere was so different. It was unbelievable. And, it shouldn't have been that way. Aren't the religious people the ones who are supposed to be so loving and open and forgiving? It appears that, in many instances, that is not the case and really quite opposite from it.
I now consider myself Agnostic and have for some time. I am a little jealous of my kids who get to grow up without a religion. They don't have to go through Sunday School or confirmation. I don't put down religion and if they ever choose to go down that road, I will support them. But I want them to decide. For now I do tell them there is a heaven and a God because that is what most of their friends tell them. It gives them peace fore now.
The definition of Agnostic is the view that the truth value of certain claims—especially claims about the existence or non-existence of any deity, but also other religious and metaphysical claims—is unknown or unknowable.[ Basically I don't know if there is a god. There may be and maybe there isn't but there is no way to know that. I can understand Atheism as well because it is very possible there is no god, no heaven, no nothing - just evolution. But I hold out hope that there is SOMETHING in the after life and that is why I'm not an Atheist. I believe in spirits and ghosts and an afterlife and that is why I am not Atheist. But I don't know if I'm right. I never claim that I am. This is, after all, JUST ME.
Friday, August 26, 2011
The Mortician's Daughter
Growing up the daughter of a mortician is an interesting upbringing. I saw my first dead body at age 5. Dead bodies just weren't a big deal to me. I would often go to work with my dad and watch him work (embalm bodies). My dad was very funny and strange, and so were the other morticians. I guess you would have to be, to be in that business. Being there was always a lot of fun. When I was really little they would all let me try out all of the coffins and lay in them. That is really sort of creepy if I think back about it.
There were some things that happened that were a bit odd though...for example, I remember one time my dad bringing home some white sneakers with flecks of blood on them. A woman was wearing them when she was hit by a car and died. My dad thought I would like the shoes. He said to me, "Mom can get the blood right out of those..."
One other time he brought home a pair of grey sweatpants. He held them up to me and said "Looks like they'll fit." Turns out they were worn on a teenaged boy who hung himself in his parents' basement. Those grey sweatpants sat folded on a table in the laundry room for 2 years because no one wanted to touch them. My point is, what totally freaks out a normal person, is an every day sort of occurrence to a mortician...you know, perfectly good clothes that shouldn't go to waste. Ewwwww!
I remember one of my first dates with my boyfriend at the time, who is now my husband, was spent at the mortuary. We were hanging out there while my dad worked and embalmed bodies. We were playing cards and there was a ROW of feet in front of us - dead bodies waiting for their turn in the embalming room. My dad even let me put makeup on a corpse that night. It was creepy doing her nails and putting on her makeup - she was stiff, like a doll, not human... My dad was a big jokester and would have a blast at work while he worked on the bodies. But, then the phone would ring and he would immediately become another person because the person on the other end of the line was most likely someone who had a family member just die and need someone to come pick it up. So, he would immediately switch from the jokester to a sincere, soft spoken and caring man. It really was amazing to see...like a light switch.
One other time I was clearing out the garage of my parents' home and I found an actual body...ok not a real body, but a cremated one! I found the ashes of someone in a box with their name and dates of birth and death. It had been there since the 1970's. I asked my dad about it and he said he must have put it on the shelf for some reason and forgot about it. He said that a lot of people would not pick up ashes of loved ones, or that person didn't have relatives, and so those ashes would just sit on a shelf in the mortuatry forever. How sad. He must have had it in his hearse and then set it on the shelf for some reason. So anyway, that "body" was returned to the mortuary, and there she will sit for probably, eternity.
I'm trying to think of more interesting stories and I realized there are just too many and this blog could go on forever. It certainly was an interesting childhood growing up the daughter of a mortician. Have you ever seen My Girl (the movie)? I always loved that movie because it reminded me of my life. So anyway, maybe I will share more stories someday about being the Mortician's Daughter. I even wanted to be a mortician when I grew up but then I realized how hard Science and Chemistry are and I said FORGET THAT SH*T! :-)
There were some things that happened that were a bit odd though...for example, I remember one time my dad bringing home some white sneakers with flecks of blood on them. A woman was wearing them when she was hit by a car and died. My dad thought I would like the shoes. He said to me, "Mom can get the blood right out of those..."
One other time he brought home a pair of grey sweatpants. He held them up to me and said "Looks like they'll fit." Turns out they were worn on a teenaged boy who hung himself in his parents' basement. Those grey sweatpants sat folded on a table in the laundry room for 2 years because no one wanted to touch them. My point is, what totally freaks out a normal person, is an every day sort of occurrence to a mortician...you know, perfectly good clothes that shouldn't go to waste. Ewwwww!
I remember one of my first dates with my boyfriend at the time, who is now my husband, was spent at the mortuary. We were hanging out there while my dad worked and embalmed bodies. We were playing cards and there was a ROW of feet in front of us - dead bodies waiting for their turn in the embalming room. My dad even let me put makeup on a corpse that night. It was creepy doing her nails and putting on her makeup - she was stiff, like a doll, not human... My dad was a big jokester and would have a blast at work while he worked on the bodies. But, then the phone would ring and he would immediately become another person because the person on the other end of the line was most likely someone who had a family member just die and need someone to come pick it up. So, he would immediately switch from the jokester to a sincere, soft spoken and caring man. It really was amazing to see...like a light switch.
One other time I was clearing out the garage of my parents' home and I found an actual body...ok not a real body, but a cremated one! I found the ashes of someone in a box with their name and dates of birth and death. It had been there since the 1970's. I asked my dad about it and he said he must have put it on the shelf for some reason and forgot about it. He said that a lot of people would not pick up ashes of loved ones, or that person didn't have relatives, and so those ashes would just sit on a shelf in the mortuatry forever. How sad. He must have had it in his hearse and then set it on the shelf for some reason. So anyway, that "body" was returned to the mortuary, and there she will sit for probably, eternity.
I'm trying to think of more interesting stories and I realized there are just too many and this blog could go on forever. It certainly was an interesting childhood growing up the daughter of a mortician. Have you ever seen My Girl (the movie)? I always loved that movie because it reminded me of my life. So anyway, maybe I will share more stories someday about being the Mortician's Daughter. I even wanted to be a mortician when I grew up but then I realized how hard Science and Chemistry are and I said FORGET THAT SH*T! :-)
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Why I'm Obsessed with Casey Anthony
Anyone who even knows me a little bit, knows I'm obsessed with the Casey Anthony case. This isn't the first case I have been obsessed with. But I'm not obsessed with every case. I have noticed that there has to be a personal trigger to the case, a common ground, something I can relate to.
The first case I became obsessed with was Jacob Wetterling. Jacob was only 3 years younger than me. He was from my state (Minnesota) - I can still remember watching all about him on the news. I was in 8th grade. It terrified me to my very core. I remember that our school held a "stranger danger" informational meeting after he disappeared. To me, his disappearance changed my entire world. I was scared to go anywhere and I thought everyone was going to take me. I no longer felt safe in my neighborhood. I don't know why it hit me so hard, I just felt so sorry for him and wondered where he was or if he was dead. I just couldn't let it go. I still can't, really, but I have learned to put it behind me. They are pretty sure they know who took him, the son of a couple at that very house where he was taken. At the time, the kidnapper/murderer would have been in his 30's and now he is in his 50's...they just can't tie him to the case. It's been too long. They even dug up that yard just last year but found nothing. Jacob was 11 when he was abducted. He would be 33 today (if he is still alive, which is doubtful).
The 2nd case I became obsessed with was the OJ Simpson case. I didn't really have a personal connection to that case, but let's face it, a lot of people were obsessed with it. Here was a famous athlete and actor who MURDERED his wife and her friend and got away with it. It was just unreal. I was obsessed from day one with his long car chase. It was just ridiculous from the beginning. I'm just sad that it took 13 years for karma to catch up to him. Sadly, his girlfriend for those 13 years after the murder, went to my high school. I didn't know her that well personally but I did know of her (it was a small high school - only 321 people and she was 1 grade ahead of me). She now thinks he is a murderer. I can't believe she was blinded by him for so long. Let me tell you, don't ever google photos of the murder scene, as I did, because those images are planted in my brain and will forever haunt me.
The third case I became obsessed with was the Scott Peterson case. His beautiful wife Laci was the same age as me. She was 5 months older than me. The unborn child she was carrying was only 7 months younger than my daughter (well he would have been). My daughter was 5 months old when Laci was murdered. I guess that is why I felt such a connection to her. She and I both were the same age, she was about to have a baby and I just did, we both had cute husbands, a nice home, a dog...our lives could have been the same. I could have been her. She could have been any of us. No one saw this coming. No one knew Scott was a psychopath. It was just so unfathomable to me that he could do something like that to his wife, the mother of his unborn child. I think of her often and I didn't even know her. I am so glad Scott is on death row and rotting in jail. It sickens me, however, that he is probably happy in jail and has friends. What a waste of human skin. I read the book Laci's mom wrote <For Laci: A Mother's Story of Love, Loss, and Justice by Sharon Rocha> (anyone should read it) and it was amazing. She said that it wasn't until 2 weeks after Laci's murder that she found the roast in the oven that they were going to have that Xmas eve for dinner. That really stood out in my mind. Just so eerie, so creepy. She also had a very vivid dream of Laci long after her death and in it, Laci asked why Scott would kill her. I wonder if dreams really can be visits with those who have passed on....
Then there is the Casey Anthony story...I know so many people are obsessed with this case but for me it is personal. Caylee and my son were the same age. She was 4 months older than my son. And, her body was found on my son's actual 3rd birthday. Like so many others, I just can't believe it happened and that she could lose all of the love she had for her daughter, kill her and throw her away like that and think nothing of it. She, like Scott Peterson, was a pathological liar and is a psychopath. (Much like Ted Bundy). I truly believe she did love Caylee at one time but then became so disconnected from her, so disassociated from her own daughter and blinded by the lust/love she had for Tony. It sickens me and I wish Caylee was mine. I treat all 3 of my kids so much better (not that I didn't before) because of Caylee. I think of her a lot and it just makes me want to love my kids even more (if that is even possible). I try to be the best mom I can be on a daily basis and whenever I feel frustrated as a parent, I do think of Caylee and how little she was loved by her own mother in the days/weeks/months before she was killed. Oh how I wish she was mine. I love my kids so much, they are my entire life. I just want them to always be happy and feel love and comfort every single day...something Caylee will never have on earth again. Heck, my daughters' gerbils had longer more loving lives than she did. How very, truly sad.
Another thing that the last 3 cases have in common is denial. OJ, Scott, Casey, they were all so CLEARLY guilty yet deny almost ANY involvement and ANY wrong-doing. It is just unbelievable to me. I wish someone could just get through to them. But, I have read that pathological liars can lie so much that they even begin to believe their own lies...like they might ACTUALLY believe they are INNOCENT. They might truly and actually believe that. The mind is a very mystical thing.
So there you have it...my obsession with trials. I wonder what the next case will be that I will become obsessed with and I wonder what connection I will have to it, to make me cling on...and never want to let it go...
The first case I became obsessed with was Jacob Wetterling. Jacob was only 3 years younger than me. He was from my state (Minnesota) - I can still remember watching all about him on the news. I was in 8th grade. It terrified me to my very core. I remember that our school held a "stranger danger" informational meeting after he disappeared. To me, his disappearance changed my entire world. I was scared to go anywhere and I thought everyone was going to take me. I no longer felt safe in my neighborhood. I don't know why it hit me so hard, I just felt so sorry for him and wondered where he was or if he was dead. I just couldn't let it go. I still can't, really, but I have learned to put it behind me. They are pretty sure they know who took him, the son of a couple at that very house where he was taken. At the time, the kidnapper/murderer would have been in his 30's and now he is in his 50's...they just can't tie him to the case. It's been too long. They even dug up that yard just last year but found nothing. Jacob was 11 when he was abducted. He would be 33 today (if he is still alive, which is doubtful).
The 2nd case I became obsessed with was the OJ Simpson case. I didn't really have a personal connection to that case, but let's face it, a lot of people were obsessed with it. Here was a famous athlete and actor who MURDERED his wife and her friend and got away with it. It was just unreal. I was obsessed from day one with his long car chase. It was just ridiculous from the beginning. I'm just sad that it took 13 years for karma to catch up to him. Sadly, his girlfriend for those 13 years after the murder, went to my high school. I didn't know her that well personally but I did know of her (it was a small high school - only 321 people and she was 1 grade ahead of me). She now thinks he is a murderer. I can't believe she was blinded by him for so long. Let me tell you, don't ever google photos of the murder scene, as I did, because those images are planted in my brain and will forever haunt me.
The third case I became obsessed with was the Scott Peterson case. His beautiful wife Laci was the same age as me. She was 5 months older than me. The unborn child she was carrying was only 7 months younger than my daughter (well he would have been). My daughter was 5 months old when Laci was murdered. I guess that is why I felt such a connection to her. She and I both were the same age, she was about to have a baby and I just did, we both had cute husbands, a nice home, a dog...our lives could have been the same. I could have been her. She could have been any of us. No one saw this coming. No one knew Scott was a psychopath. It was just so unfathomable to me that he could do something like that to his wife, the mother of his unborn child. I think of her often and I didn't even know her. I am so glad Scott is on death row and rotting in jail. It sickens me, however, that he is probably happy in jail and has friends. What a waste of human skin. I read the book Laci's mom wrote <For Laci: A Mother's Story of Love, Loss, and Justice by Sharon Rocha> (anyone should read it) and it was amazing. She said that it wasn't until 2 weeks after Laci's murder that she found the roast in the oven that they were going to have that Xmas eve for dinner. That really stood out in my mind. Just so eerie, so creepy. She also had a very vivid dream of Laci long after her death and in it, Laci asked why Scott would kill her. I wonder if dreams really can be visits with those who have passed on....
Then there is the Casey Anthony story...I know so many people are obsessed with this case but for me it is personal. Caylee and my son were the same age. She was 4 months older than my son. And, her body was found on my son's actual 3rd birthday. Like so many others, I just can't believe it happened and that she could lose all of the love she had for her daughter, kill her and throw her away like that and think nothing of it. She, like Scott Peterson, was a pathological liar and is a psychopath. (Much like Ted Bundy). I truly believe she did love Caylee at one time but then became so disconnected from her, so disassociated from her own daughter and blinded by the lust/love she had for Tony. It sickens me and I wish Caylee was mine. I treat all 3 of my kids so much better (not that I didn't before) because of Caylee. I think of her a lot and it just makes me want to love my kids even more (if that is even possible). I try to be the best mom I can be on a daily basis and whenever I feel frustrated as a parent, I do think of Caylee and how little she was loved by her own mother in the days/weeks/months before she was killed. Oh how I wish she was mine. I love my kids so much, they are my entire life. I just want them to always be happy and feel love and comfort every single day...something Caylee will never have on earth again. Heck, my daughters' gerbils had longer more loving lives than she did. How very, truly sad.
Another thing that the last 3 cases have in common is denial. OJ, Scott, Casey, they were all so CLEARLY guilty yet deny almost ANY involvement and ANY wrong-doing. It is just unbelievable to me. I wish someone could just get through to them. But, I have read that pathological liars can lie so much that they even begin to believe their own lies...like they might ACTUALLY believe they are INNOCENT. They might truly and actually believe that. The mind is a very mystical thing.
So there you have it...my obsession with trials. I wonder what the next case will be that I will become obsessed with and I wonder what connection I will have to it, to make me cling on...and never want to let it go...
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
A Bipolar Dad
Today is my dad's birthday. My dad is a complicated subject. Growing up we always thought he was an alcoholic. But he didn't always drink. He would do this in spurts - months at a time, or days, or weeks, but then he could go just the same amount of time and not drink. Socially he was always fine, could drink normally, it was at home, alone that problems would arise. It wasn't the best childhood because of him. But my mom tried to shade us from that a lot. It wasn't until only 2 years ago that we discovered he is Bipolar and has been for most of his adult life.
My dad was a mortician. I will get into that later (another blog all together) he was such a funny guy, very social and fun. But he would have very dark moments at home, drinking binges, yelling and shoving and screaming at his family members. No one on the outside would ever believe he could act that way because everyone on the outside just thought of him as so funny and social and outspoken. But suddenly it all came to a head a couple of Aprils ago when he suddenly "quit" his job when he would have been retiring that November. It turns out they asked him to resign because he was acting "inappropriately" with clients and co-workers. They even got a 2 year restraining order on him after he mentioned in his 6 page "retirement" letter that his lawyers were "Smith and Wesson" (guns).
It was crazy how it all went down. He started acting strange, very out of character. This all went down shortly after Britney Spears had her mental meltdown. It turns out she is bipolar too. He acted much like her. My dad spent $45,000 on gold coins, he spent $1,500 at a little card gift shop down the street, he started acting VERY hyper to the point that people commented on it and asked what we were feeding him. When my mom ended up in the hospital with an anxiety attack and I was eating with my dad in the lunchroom, that is when I really noticed his embarrassing behavior. He was always embarrassing but this was up and beyond anything I had ever seen before. He asked 2 nurses if he could finish their meatloaf if they were done, he talked to everyone that walked by. He went up to a guy in a UofM baseball hat and asked him if he knew me (cuz I went to the UofM 10 years ago). He also tried to tell a sexual joke to two old ladies in the giftshop. It was just unreal. We didn't know what his deal was.
Eventually we called for psychiatric help and got him committed. (That was not as easy as it sounds). He was put on a hold (much like Britney Spears) and spent 12 days in psychiatric lockdown. That is when the doctors diagnosed him as Bipolar. He was on a manic episode. I didn't know anything about this disorder, but I was learning fast. He had no control over what he was doing. It's just a really frustrating (yet interesting) disorder. The brain just takes over and you are not even aware of what you are doing. As they say "the mentally ill are always the last to know that they have a mental illness"
After he got out we had to put him on a "monetary diet". He had to come to me for money and he would get stickers if he didn't spend a certain amount, then in turn could get a bonus. It was ridiculous. That soon faded and he was back to his depressive stage (where he is now). When he was manic though, he did have STRANGE thinking. When you are manic you have "grandiose ideas." A great example of this is my dad said he was going to travel to every state and get a salt and pepper shaker in the shape of each state. Um, ok, why? That is what I'd like to know. As I mentioned, he is now back in a depressive state and has gone off all of his meds.
We are keeping an eye on him and wish he would stay on them but he refuses. He has better days and even read a book that I bought him the other day, and watched a movie! But he loves his chair and rarely leaves it. He also has Parkinson's Disease which was brought on by the Bipolar. These disorders are just strange, to say the least. No one knows what causes Bipolar. It is hereditary only 15% of the time. Most of the time it is brought on by "environmental factors" (ie. maybe his career as a mortician...) I wonder how many morticians eventually have Bipolar disorder...?
Anyway, I'm tired of talking about this as it brings me down. Maybe I will talk about it more another day. And happy birthday to my dad who I will always be there for, who I will always support and who I understand a little better now that I know what he is battling and facing...every single day.
My dad was a mortician. I will get into that later (another blog all together) he was such a funny guy, very social and fun. But he would have very dark moments at home, drinking binges, yelling and shoving and screaming at his family members. No one on the outside would ever believe he could act that way because everyone on the outside just thought of him as so funny and social and outspoken. But suddenly it all came to a head a couple of Aprils ago when he suddenly "quit" his job when he would have been retiring that November. It turns out they asked him to resign because he was acting "inappropriately" with clients and co-workers. They even got a 2 year restraining order on him after he mentioned in his 6 page "retirement" letter that his lawyers were "Smith and Wesson" (guns).
It was crazy how it all went down. He started acting strange, very out of character. This all went down shortly after Britney Spears had her mental meltdown. It turns out she is bipolar too. He acted much like her. My dad spent $45,000 on gold coins, he spent $1,500 at a little card gift shop down the street, he started acting VERY hyper to the point that people commented on it and asked what we were feeding him. When my mom ended up in the hospital with an anxiety attack and I was eating with my dad in the lunchroom, that is when I really noticed his embarrassing behavior. He was always embarrassing but this was up and beyond anything I had ever seen before. He asked 2 nurses if he could finish their meatloaf if they were done, he talked to everyone that walked by. He went up to a guy in a UofM baseball hat and asked him if he knew me (cuz I went to the UofM 10 years ago). He also tried to tell a sexual joke to two old ladies in the giftshop. It was just unreal. We didn't know what his deal was.
Eventually we called for psychiatric help and got him committed. (That was not as easy as it sounds). He was put on a hold (much like Britney Spears) and spent 12 days in psychiatric lockdown. That is when the doctors diagnosed him as Bipolar. He was on a manic episode. I didn't know anything about this disorder, but I was learning fast. He had no control over what he was doing. It's just a really frustrating (yet interesting) disorder. The brain just takes over and you are not even aware of what you are doing. As they say "the mentally ill are always the last to know that they have a mental illness"
After he got out we had to put him on a "monetary diet". He had to come to me for money and he would get stickers if he didn't spend a certain amount, then in turn could get a bonus. It was ridiculous. That soon faded and he was back to his depressive stage (where he is now). When he was manic though, he did have STRANGE thinking. When you are manic you have "grandiose ideas." A great example of this is my dad said he was going to travel to every state and get a salt and pepper shaker in the shape of each state. Um, ok, why? That is what I'd like to know. As I mentioned, he is now back in a depressive state and has gone off all of his meds.
We are keeping an eye on him and wish he would stay on them but he refuses. He has better days and even read a book that I bought him the other day, and watched a movie! But he loves his chair and rarely leaves it. He also has Parkinson's Disease which was brought on by the Bipolar. These disorders are just strange, to say the least. No one knows what causes Bipolar. It is hereditary only 15% of the time. Most of the time it is brought on by "environmental factors" (ie. maybe his career as a mortician...) I wonder how many morticians eventually have Bipolar disorder...?
Anyway, I'm tired of talking about this as it brings me down. Maybe I will talk about it more another day. And happy birthday to my dad who I will always be there for, who I will always support and who I understand a little better now that I know what he is battling and facing...every single day.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Why Cows, you ask?
Why do I love cows? Mooooo, let me count the ways. Actually, I'm not really sure why. Why not? Ok seriously, it probably all began when I was a kid. We would often spend entire days at my Grandparent's farm in Wisconsin. Let's face it, there isn't much to do on a farm. So, I would sit by the cows and watch them for hours.
I loved how they were kinda ugly, but so ugly they were cute, you know kind of like a Pug or Bulldog. I also liked the way they Moooooo'd. It was so low and comforting. I liked the way they watched me from a distance, turning away to eat grass but then keeping an eye on me, chewing their cud, wondering what I wanted, why I was there, what I was. I also liked the way they moved, so slowly, so peacefully, like they had all the time in the world. No where to be, but right here...eating grass and enjoying the sunshine.
Sometimes they would lay down and flick their tails at the flies or flick their ears. Sometimes they would nudge each other or comfort their baby calves. Some would watch out for each other and some would pick on each other. They would communicate, you could tell. I always wanted to know what they were saying.
When my Uncle or Grandpa would come in to feed them, they would just shove the cows out of the way. The cows didn't care, they knew them well. They seemed a bit annoyed at the shove but then became so excited that they were about to eat. Sometimes I would feed them corn on the cob. They would stick their tongues out really far to grab it from me. They didn't want to get too close. They also have big huge beautiful eyes with long long lashes.
So in essence, I really love everything about cows - the way they look, the way they move, the way they sound. They are a very peaceful animal. Everyone should spend an hour in a field, chewing on a piece of grass, lying there with the cows. That is true peace in this world.
I loved how they were kinda ugly, but so ugly they were cute, you know kind of like a Pug or Bulldog. I also liked the way they Moooooo'd. It was so low and comforting. I liked the way they watched me from a distance, turning away to eat grass but then keeping an eye on me, chewing their cud, wondering what I wanted, why I was there, what I was. I also liked the way they moved, so slowly, so peacefully, like they had all the time in the world. No where to be, but right here...eating grass and enjoying the sunshine.
Sometimes they would lay down and flick their tails at the flies or flick their ears. Sometimes they would nudge each other or comfort their baby calves. Some would watch out for each other and some would pick on each other. They would communicate, you could tell. I always wanted to know what they were saying.
When my Uncle or Grandpa would come in to feed them, they would just shove the cows out of the way. The cows didn't care, they knew them well. They seemed a bit annoyed at the shove but then became so excited that they were about to eat. Sometimes I would feed them corn on the cob. They would stick their tongues out really far to grab it from me. They didn't want to get too close. They also have big huge beautiful eyes with long long lashes.
So in essence, I really love everything about cows - the way they look, the way they move, the way they sound. They are a very peaceful animal. Everyone should spend an hour in a field, chewing on a piece of grass, lying there with the cows. That is true peace in this world.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The Full One
So I talked about my 2 half siblings, so it's only fair I make a blog about my full one. My sister is 3 1/2 years older than me. We are polar opposites! I mean entirely.
She is tall and really thin, like Ally McBeal skinny. I am shorter and average weight. Our hair is both dark brown (mine is darker) but our faces are not alike (at least I don't think so). She was a ballerina growing up, I was into sports (gymnastics, softball and swimming). She is VERY clean. I am VERY messy. She is OCD - to the tee. Everything in it's place, everything dusted, beds made, etc. I am polar opposite of that. I HATE order. I HATE routine and rules. My house is messy cuz I don't like to clean. Don't get me wrong, I love a clean house and wish it would stay that way, but with myself, my hubby, 3 kids and a dog, it doesn't stay clean for long, and I'm not about to spend all day every day keeping it orderly when I would rather play with my kids, watch tv, or just SIT on the couch :)
And, I don't really understand how we can be so opposite when we both had the same exact upbringing. My mom is a pack rat so I got that from her. But I'm even messier than she was. My sister's room was always clean. She obsessed about her room but knew the rest of the house was a lost cause, except for ONE chair. The ONE chair in the living room had to have a STRAIGHT blanket on it and I would mess up that blanket just to bug her, almost every day. HA!
Before we all (my friends, my sister and I) had kids, we would go to parties at each other's houses on the weekends. We all loved going to my sister's house because we could mess with her. She had a bench in the front area of her home and she would measure it out by straightness by placing 2 fingers between the bench and the wall on either side. So we would always bring it out just slightly on one side. We would turn her ballerina nicknacks around on the shelf so some were facing the back or the side. We would tilt pictures on the wall or tilt pillows on her couch. Then, the game was to see how long she noticed everything we had done. It never took more than 5 minutes. CRAZY! One time at Christmas time she had a big party and there was a Christmas tree with TONS of presents underneath it. My friend came over and placed a tiny gift in the pile (it was not bigger than 3 inches). A few minutes later my sister came into the room and said, "Oh, who brought me a present?" JUST INSANE I TELL YOU!
So, yeah, that is my sister in a nutshell. She is very OCD and orderly. She is a different mom than me too. Her kids are never dirty and pick up their toys every night. They like coming to my house and they love eating on my bed because at home they are only allowed to eat at the table. It's funny to me. My nephew will say to people, "My Auntie Cris, she has NO rules!" HAHAHA!
I guess I figure life is too short to worry about the small stuff. So...come over, eat on my bed and get crumbs all over, I couldn't care less! :-)
She is tall and really thin, like Ally McBeal skinny. I am shorter and average weight. Our hair is both dark brown (mine is darker) but our faces are not alike (at least I don't think so). She was a ballerina growing up, I was into sports (gymnastics, softball and swimming). She is VERY clean. I am VERY messy. She is OCD - to the tee. Everything in it's place, everything dusted, beds made, etc. I am polar opposite of that. I HATE order. I HATE routine and rules. My house is messy cuz I don't like to clean. Don't get me wrong, I love a clean house and wish it would stay that way, but with myself, my hubby, 3 kids and a dog, it doesn't stay clean for long, and I'm not about to spend all day every day keeping it orderly when I would rather play with my kids, watch tv, or just SIT on the couch :)
And, I don't really understand how we can be so opposite when we both had the same exact upbringing. My mom is a pack rat so I got that from her. But I'm even messier than she was. My sister's room was always clean. She obsessed about her room but knew the rest of the house was a lost cause, except for ONE chair. The ONE chair in the living room had to have a STRAIGHT blanket on it and I would mess up that blanket just to bug her, almost every day. HA!
Before we all (my friends, my sister and I) had kids, we would go to parties at each other's houses on the weekends. We all loved going to my sister's house because we could mess with her. She had a bench in the front area of her home and she would measure it out by straightness by placing 2 fingers between the bench and the wall on either side. So we would always bring it out just slightly on one side. We would turn her ballerina nicknacks around on the shelf so some were facing the back or the side. We would tilt pictures on the wall or tilt pillows on her couch. Then, the game was to see how long she noticed everything we had done. It never took more than 5 minutes. CRAZY! One time at Christmas time she had a big party and there was a Christmas tree with TONS of presents underneath it. My friend came over and placed a tiny gift in the pile (it was not bigger than 3 inches). A few minutes later my sister came into the room and said, "Oh, who brought me a present?" JUST INSANE I TELL YOU!
So, yeah, that is my sister in a nutshell. She is very OCD and orderly. She is a different mom than me too. Her kids are never dirty and pick up their toys every night. They like coming to my house and they love eating on my bed because at home they are only allowed to eat at the table. It's funny to me. My nephew will say to people, "My Auntie Cris, she has NO rules!" HAHAHA!
I guess I figure life is too short to worry about the small stuff. So...come over, eat on my bed and get crumbs all over, I couldn't care less! :-)
Friday, August 12, 2011
Halfises Part 2: The Poor Life of W
OK…yesterday I talked about my half brother on my dad’s side. Today I will talk about my half sister on my mom’s side. This story will take a bit longer to tell. My mom was first married to a man named Morris. The reason I’m sharing his name is because the name is just hilarious. I used to have a t-shirt with Morris the cat on it, and whenever I wore it, it would make me think of my mom’s first husband. He is dead now. My mom found out a few years ago that he had been dead awhile and she said, “Oh.” It was so weird to me that she was once married and in love with this man, and had a child with him and then years and a life-time later she didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. Together they had a daughter I will call W. All I know about Morris is that he was a “liar” and she never really loved him. Fair enough.
Then she married another guy who I will call E. All I know about E is that she was only married to him for a few months, he was an alcoholic, and then he died. Hmmm. Ok. Kind of odd. We only found out about him after scrounging through drawers one night that my sister was babysitting me. We came across a photo of my mom in a newspaper with a really weird last name that we didn’t recognize. Then we confronted her about it. That’s when she seemed upset and told us the shortened version of their “marriage.”
So then my mom married my dad. My mom’s daughter, W, wanted to finish up high school with my mom’s mom (Grandma). So my mom and dad moved to the cities and W stayed on the farm with Grandma. Apparently, my mom and W never got along very well. This is hard for me to understand since my mom and I are very close.
When W was 16 she went to a picnic with friends, on her horse. Her horse’s name was Peanut. Well one of her drunken friends wanted to ride Peanut but he scared the horse and the horse took off running. W hitched a ride with friends in a car to go find her horse. The seen they came upon mere minutes later was one that I can only imagine as “horrific.” Her horse had been hit by a truck and died on the side of the road. The driver of the truck was rushed to a hospital with injuries unknown. W and a few friends decided to go to the hospital to see if the driver would be ok. It turns out he would live.
On their way home from the hospital, the driver of the car W was in had been drinking too, and he hit another car head on. Both drivers were killed instantly. Is this day bad or what? W was thrown from the car but lived. The others in the car survived as well. But maybe W would have been better off if she had died that day too. She has severe brain damage. She was in a coma for 3 months. They didn’t even set her broken leg because they didn’t expect her to live, so one leg is 3 inches shorter then the other. Her long-term memory is in tact but she basically doesn’t have a short-term memory.
I only see her about once a year when my mom and I go to the “home” she lives in and bring her birthday presents in November. She smells. She doesn’t brush her teeth (and god knows why no one else there does) so they are rotten. My mom tells them over and over to get her teeth fixed but she has little control now that W is a ward of the state. W keeps rotten apples in her purse and offers you gum that appears to be 3 years old, that snaps when you accept it. The thing that is hard is that W doesn’t even remember we were there. That is, I think, why the visits from my mom have dwindled down to once per year.
W will still talk about the dog my mom had when W was little, or she will talk about Gramma and Grampa like they aren’t dead. She just doesn’t have a clue. And, it’s really sad. I think a lot about “what could have been.” She was so beautiful as a teen, with long straight brown hair. She was a VERY talented artist and she taught herself how to play the guitar fluently. I like to think she and my sister and I would all be sort of close. She would probably be married with kids of her own and those little “ghost children who will never come to be” would be so cute and fun and full of life.
There have been some crazy stories about her over the years. She had a “boyfriend” at one time who was basically a pedofile criminal who kidnapped her from her “handicap home”. They ran off and got married and she was eventually found living with him in a van with 3 cats. He was obviously arrested. Anyway, it’s just a sad life full of so many “what ifs” and I try not to think about her too often. She is in her late 50’s now.
I still have a few boxes full of her things from high school: a diary with typical teenage rumors and gossip, a bunch of horse riding ribbons, goddy jewelry that she loved, yearbooks, photos of her dad, photos of her as a baby, a toddler, a child, and a teen…a life that was never really lived, all stored in 3 boxes in my basement. Oh, W, how your life could have been…so very beautiful.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Halfsies Part 1: Dysfunction with L
Yesterday in my first post I mentioned that I have 2 half siblings. Well it’s sort of a strange story. I will start with my dad’s side. My dad was married once before to a lady I will call P. He had a son who I will call L. Then he and P divorced when L was 3. From what I have heard, P married a new guy soon after and wanted to move to Arizona. They asked my dad for permission and though he didn’t want them to move, he relented.
The new guy adopted L. I don’t think I could let someone do this. I would have fought more. But for whatever reason, that is how it went down. According to my mom, they sent letters to L, but P never showed them to him. He grew up not knowing his dad. And sadly enough, his new father by adoption, left him and P shortly thereafter, so he grew up with a last name of someone he didn’t even know.
Needless to say, I finally got to meet my half brother, but not until I was 14, and it was his wedding day. It was strange meeting my “brother” who was in his 20’s or 30’s by this time. I got to watch him hug my dad (his dad) for the first time since he was 3.
He lives in Texas now and I don’t know him very well. I am friends with his wife and kids on facebook so we share things once in awhile. Their family came to my wedding and both of my sister’s weddings (she was married twice). He is an anesthesiologist, so very smart and very busy. Our family went down to visit him for a week when I was in college. When we were together he would call our dad “your dad.” He would say, “Your dad said this, or did this.” (even though he is his dad too…just kind of awkward and weird.)
The thing is that growing up, I always wanted a brother. I had my sister and we got along well enough but I always wanted a bigger family. So, I made up a brother named Julian. I even drew what Julian looked like. He had longer curly black hair. He was tall and lanky. He would play the drums and then I would yell at him "Be Quiet, Julian!" (see I told you I was kind of strange). So yeah, Julian was my pretend brother. And, when I found out I had a real brother somewhere, I dreamed of the day I could meet him. But though he is my brother by blood, I don't really know him as a person, and that is a bit sad. It is what it is I guess.
Then there is my mom’s side. You know what? I think that should be a whole blog post of it’s own because the story is so long and sad and strange and I have to think of how to say it… Until next time!!!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
My first blog!
So you would think I would have a blog by now, but I don't. Well now I do, I guess. Since I am a writer and writing comes easy for me and I do actually enjoy it, it is surprising that I don't have a blog. Well I do now I guess. I really don't know what I will talk about here or if I will keep up on it but I hope that I do. So what should my first post be about? Where do I begin? From the beginning? The middle? The present? hmmmmmm.
The beginning...I was born in 1975. So I guess that makes me...well, kinda old (35). But I don't feel old. I still feel like I'm 25. I have one "full" sister. She is almost 4 years older than me. I call her full cuz I have a couple of "halfsies." My mom and dad were both married before. They each have one kid. Their kids are both super old. By super old I mean like 40's and 50's. They could be my parents. Well maybe not. But they are still old. I didn't grow up with them. I hardly know them. I guess details about them can come up in a later blog.
I grew up in a cute little suburb in Minneapolis. And I still live there. I love it. I don't want to be anywhere else. It's so nice and has a small town feel even though it is very near the big Twin Cities area. My upbringing was pretty normal. My parents didn't have the greatest marriage but that, I realize now, has to do with the fact that my dad had bipolar much of his adult life. The thing is, we didn't discover this until about 2 years ago. We always just thought he was an alcoholic. Boy were we wrong.
I guess I'm sharing a lot on my first blog. But I will share a lot more and go into more detail in posts to come, about everything I mentioned above. I am now married to my highschool sweetheart. We have 3 kids. I am a graphic designer. I love animals. I love cheese. I really like to sneeze. I'm kinda weird. I think this is enough for the day. I hope you will enjoy reading about my life, my views, and anything else I decide to share here because this, after all...is JUST ME.
The beginning...I was born in 1975. So I guess that makes me...well, kinda old (35). But I don't feel old. I still feel like I'm 25. I have one "full" sister. She is almost 4 years older than me. I call her full cuz I have a couple of "halfsies." My mom and dad were both married before. They each have one kid. Their kids are both super old. By super old I mean like 40's and 50's. They could be my parents. Well maybe not. But they are still old. I didn't grow up with them. I hardly know them. I guess details about them can come up in a later blog.
I grew up in a cute little suburb in Minneapolis. And I still live there. I love it. I don't want to be anywhere else. It's so nice and has a small town feel even though it is very near the big Twin Cities area. My upbringing was pretty normal. My parents didn't have the greatest marriage but that, I realize now, has to do with the fact that my dad had bipolar much of his adult life. The thing is, we didn't discover this until about 2 years ago. We always just thought he was an alcoholic. Boy were we wrong.
I guess I'm sharing a lot on my first blog. But I will share a lot more and go into more detail in posts to come, about everything I mentioned above. I am now married to my highschool sweetheart. We have 3 kids. I am a graphic designer. I love animals. I love cheese. I really like to sneeze. I'm kinda weird. I think this is enough for the day. I hope you will enjoy reading about my life, my views, and anything else I decide to share here because this, after all...is JUST ME.
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