Role Reversal

Mom is sick again tonight.  
The nursing home calls, and I meet the ambulance at the ER and sit with her.   
We've done this a few times now.  
And everytime... she says, "Baby, you don't have to wait up here with me"
And we all know that... OFCOURSE I DO!   

This is my mom.

This is the woman that took care of me when I was sick as a child.

The woman that sat for hours in the LSU waiting room with my head in her lap and she stroked my hair as I cried with chronic ear infections.  (Those chairs were hard, cold multicolored plastic... ugh)  She'd tell me she loved me.

After every LSU visit, I'd get a vanilla milkshake.

This woman always got my medication delivered from Lewis drugs and I got a 6pack carton of 6oz bottled cokes, color book and crayons... each time.

These things seem small.. esp to kids that are use to McDonalds once a week and treats all the time.  But to me... they were a huge deal.

So when my mom calls me for some Diet Root Beers, crossword puzzles or some other request (there have been some odd ones..lol).  I hop to it.

And when she's laying on an emergency room stretcher trying to breath better...  I'm there.    Trying to make her feel better...  I stroke her hair... and tell her I love her.    

                                                Turn about is fair play.

ROXY! He's not here. I promise.

I can't convince Roxy that Jake is NOT here.
She's in his room... in her spot... waiting.
REFUSES to budge. 
So... I find myself having a conversation.. with a dog,  "Roxy, your boy isn't here tonight... come on out of there" (this usually works) 



This is where she lays every night as he watches tv or does his homework, etc,..  Then she gets in bed with him....  

 But tonight.. she doesn't buy it.  She's sitting there.. alone in a dark room (door cracked in hopes she'll come to her senses and I don't have to haul her out)




You see.. she LOVES Jake.   The whines and cries when he comes home are quite impressive.    The longer he's been gone... the louder.    The summers are tougher on her, because Jake is gone to his dad's every other week.  In Doggy time... thats A LOT!

(side note... as I'm typing this... she just runs out here barks at me once, then marched back into her spot in his dark empty room)   She's lost it.



She was less than a year old here.

 PSSHSHHH!   Who can blame her really?  He is pretty cool to have around...

They say it's never too late...

As "open" as I may seem... there are things... I am private about.  One has always been my father.   My biological father.  I knew a name.  I knew the circumstances.   That he went on to marry another woman.. have a couple of kids.   (One daughter I was told by common family friends, that I favored).      I wasn't abandoned... know this.    He continued to visit me after I was born... then after a disagreement with my mother, she only allowed him pictures through a family friend.      Again... there was this name... I heard about my whole life.   My mom never had a negative thing to say about him.   Seemed so romantic to hear her talk of his charisma, etc,..  "those eyes"    The good news is, that I found my father.  The bad news, is that he passed away a month ago.    But out of all things, come something good.  I spoke to his kids... the ones I used to wonder about.  The little sister whom I heard had the same eyes as me.    And a son that is a genuine as they come.  .  And they are "open" to accepting me.   I denied myself the "search" for my father for years..... I think in fear of rejection.    This evening... I feel welcomed.    I'm happy to say the least... still a bit amazed at the whole thing.   

P.S.  The man... my father... looked like DeNiro.  

me? a material girl? seriously?

I drive a 2001 F150 with almost 200,000 miles on it.
I wear clothes for comfort, not namebrands.
I do wear New Balance shoes, but I work on concrete and they help my tootsies.
I own very little jewelry and rarely wear it.
If you want to see me in make up, you'll need to marry me, sue me or die.
I don't trade out purses with my outfits.  (and have never paid of $40 for a purse -         and that was a knock off Doony & Burke...ha)
I do however, buy namebrand soup.   I only like Cambells.   And only Kraft              macaroni & cheese.... important stuff there!
My computer is basic, my iphone is 4 versions behind.  
I even color my own hair, because I can cover the gray for a mere $9.
I don't even own a flat screen TV or a Wii.

My point?   I'm frugile... for a woman.   I hate shopping and I'm not into "things".

Yet recently... was labeled "materialistic" by someone who's opinion I care about.
  
And why?  Because I'm proud (very) of my camera... it's the nicest gift I've ever received.   But its also something, I'd have never broke down and bought for myself.     My husband though, knew how much I wanted the camera and got it for me for our anniversary.    and GOSH I DO love that camera!      I love it unnaturally.   It's like a  pet... I keep buying toys for it.

But... I'm pretty sure my camera is not cause to label me materialistic.
This is hard for me, because I was raised so modest...and as silly as it sounds, I really do feel twinges of guilt for owning such a nice camera.  My husband told me though when he gave it to me.. that he loves me, that I work hard and I deserve it.   

 That's enough for me I'm thinking.

Hey, Wanna hear a ghost story???

(thought so)

Today I went to the Red River Revel. And no.. I didn't see a ghost at the Revel. As a matter of fact, I've personally never seen a "ghost". But while walking along I came across some art. One peice of it was a drawing of a weeping angel monument. Next to this picture, was a drawing of a small child next to his grandfather at a military gravesite. With the child saluting soldier "ghosts". Next to the picture was a flyer... telling the story and how very small children are pure of heart and open minded and see things others do not. This was all very poignant for me.

Here is why:

About 10 years ago, I live in Marshall, Texas. My Jake's dad lives in Blanchard, so I traveled Blanchard-Latex Rd alot. Along that road is a cemetery. I could barely see a beautiful monument from the road of a "weeping angel". I'd pulled in a couple times to get a better look, but never left my truck. I was drawn to the monument... and wanted to photograph it. (obviously my facination with photographing cemeteries is not so new...)

So, one spring afternoon after work, I pick Jacob up from his fathers and headed home. The weather was nice and I had my camera with me, so I decided to go go photograph the monument.

I get Jake out of his car seat and set him on the ground. I get my little camera and began walking into the gate. Jake runs off ahead. I could see the entire cemetery from the entrance, there were no other vehicles, I had not told Jake where we were, so I was OK with him running ahead.

I turned left on the path to walk toward the monument. The weather was slightly overcast. Jake stayed straight but was skipping and happy... so I kept going. I took this picture as I walked forward (these are the actual pictures I took that day):

I check Jake and he's running back and forth on the path... giggling.
Odd, I thought.  But he seemed to be having fun.

I continue toward the angel. Things get a bit darker and the wind picks up. I take another picture. And start getting an uneasy feeling.

                        (notice it's a bit darker in this picture than the last... )

I see Jake is talking... to no one. He's laughing and playing and TALKING... to no one. I yell at him, "Jacob, come here!" He ignores me... and keeps talking and running in circles around some monuments. I yell, "Jacob, come to Mommy RIGHT NOW!"

Jake responds," But I want to play with the kids!"

I can't even begin to describe the feeling this gave me... I begin a fast walk toward him and demand he come to me NOW! He is still talking... I don't hear his words...my heart was pounding in my own ears. He turns and comes trotting to me... but keeps looking behind him.
"Mommy, I wanted to play with the kids." Me,"What kids?" Jake said ,"Them kids!" and point to... nothing.

I swoop him up over my right shoulder and run... and I do mean RUN to my truck. As he waves and says,"Byyyyyye" over my shoulder.

My heart was racing as I fastened him in his seat with him trying to see past me to the cemetery. As I am pulling away.... He asks,"Can we come back and play one day?" I lied. "Yeah baby... one day."
I did NOT question Jacob on what he saw. I didn't want to know. I still don't.

BUT... I do plan on going back there and photographing that monument again. Only this time, I'm not taking a 3yr old. I'm taking my 24yr old son, Blake...lol. He promises me he won't play with the ghost kids... even if they ask nicely.