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Not Goodbye…..Until we meet again.

Today is going to be a hard day for me my friends. Three years ago we lost my nephew. He was one of the most special people I have ever had the honor of knowing and loving. He was born with SMA – a severe form of Muscular Dystrophy.

He taught me so much and I won’t forget the lessons from either one. I will teach my children the lessons. Cherish your loved ones, time is precious, don’t get impatient – for this too shall pass, you are stronger than you thought you ever could be, breaking down doesn’t mean broken; but mostly how to love without boundaries.

Those and so many more. I grieve today for the memory of that day. But I grieve the hardest for the little angel who left. Both were senseless, both touched my life in a profound way. A day doesn’t pass when I don’t see those laughing brown eyes and that freckled face reflected in the eyes of my children. Today I grieve. I will never forget.

I miss him with a fierce ache this morning. But I sent my kids off to school and his mother can only cry today in remembrance of the days she did the same. And so it is with humble gratitude that I remember him today and his mother and father as well as our family.

RIP my sweet angel, take care of everyone until we meet again.

 

http://pricesec.com/ordinarygirl/?p=519

For about eight years this day has meant to me what it means now to all Americans. A day of remembrance for the greatest sorrow my generation and those behind me have born witness to. A day when the Nation’s heart broke as one, where our anger and disbelief flared as one, we bled together and shed tears as one. A day when we all stood shoulder to shoulder, division lines gone. It has changed our lives forever.

A year ago today, this day took on a whole new meaning. Hearts broke and tears shed for a great grief once again that could not be contained. For on this day the Lord took my nephew Garrett Allen Buthe, who had turned 10 the week before, into his loving arms and welcomed him home. I could not be at his side though I wanted to badly. We left when my son was 5 1/2 and peanut was just 2 1/2. I had promised my son we would be back to visit, and then four and a half long years had passed and life had gotten away from me, I hadn’t visited like I wish I had. I think they only made it back there once. I inadvertently broke a promise to my son and we both know it. I was able to attend his funeral thanks to the great generosity of a woman I didn’t know, but consider a friend now. She knew Garrett, had been one of his paras in school, and everyone who met him and knew him, couldn’t help but love him. It was the least she could do she said.

I remember this day so clearly….

They were very nearly brothers. Born into a close family and born with a mere 8 month difference in their age. Their fathers were brothers and they grew up as close cousins. I have such fond memories of them all. There was not a single bit of difference between any of them and they all loved each other mightily as children are so capable of doing. Want to play tag? Sure thing. Garrett tears out on his ‘hog’ and Ean and Alexandria join in on their bikes. See, not a bit of trouble. Down Uncle Cory and Aunt Lana’s driveway. The three of them were glorious together.

Ean, baby Alex, and GAB
 Watching them tear into Christmas presents together, or playing at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Going up to the cabin with the family for the weekend in Fall River, where they would swim, and jet ski and boat. Where we would watch fireworks and celebrate the Fourth of July. We would lay on rugs and blankets in the living room of the cabin and watch movies and nap together. And there were always card games. Those days are filled with love and laughter. True they held their own trouble and stresses but there are things I would give anything to have back for even just a day. I will never again hear the sweet melody of the three voices raised in laughter together over something silly. There are things you miss so much and they are the little things that tear holes in your soul and let you feel the lonely wind whistle through.
His parents were and still are fabulous. Not a day went by that they didn’t make every wish or dream of his come true. In his short life he accomplished so much. From bagging a deer with his daddy, to scuba diving, to his Muscular Dystrophy involvement and the sweet love of his mother; there wasn’t anything I can see that Garrett ever lacked in his life. They filled it with all the love and excitement a child could desire. With more patience and endurance than I feel like I could do – they worked every day with him. Every Halloween came with an amazing, well thought out costume to include his ‘hog’. They would all head out together to collect the sweet treats in their grandparent’s sub-division. They parented in a way I wish I could always do. In a way that I will always admire and strive to emulate. And we all love with a desperation born of the knowledge that life is so fleeting and unfair at times.
Ten years ago, I dropped my baby off at the sitter and went into my college classes for the day. I was in school for Journalism at the time and we were in the first class of the day, which happened to be Reporting 101. We heard the commotion as it began, the professor stepped out and got some basic information. The whole class was begging to be let out to go into our press room. Then we laid the argument down that if something of great importance was happening, better than sitting in class reading a book, would be to be out there doing what it was we were meant to do, report. Finally after what seemed like forever we were out and staring at the T.V. The first tower had been hit, and the great dark plume of smoke froze our hearts in our chests. Not a sound was going on in the room. We all stood, eyes locked on the screen, hearts in our throats.
When the second tower was hit, the great torrent of tears poured out as we learned what our fellow brothers and sisters were going through. We watched the fire burn so hot that many chose to leap from the burning towers. We watched their bodies fall. And we cried, we raged, we demanded retribution from the ones who had struck at our souls. On our own soil. Then even more horrible than before, we witnessed the collapses of the towers and when we thought we couldn’t be more shocked or grief stricken, again the tears flowed unchecked down our faces.
The thought crossed my mind that people who were alive for the JFK assassination or the Challenger explosion had stood as a Nation united and grieved. Still somehow I guess I never thought something like that would happen in my lifetime, and you hope not in your children’s either. Yet here it was, that moment for our generation and theirs. We stood united again in grief and confusion trying to sort the pain. The professor in charge of the Journalism program called us to attention and said. This is your moment, you can’t stand here and do nothing. You are journalists, get yourselves together and get out there and get the news.
So we mopped our faces, sucked it up and did. But we also grieved. I sat at a bench watching a group pray around me and the flagpole. I felt a solidarity with them, though I did not physically join them. I thought of a good friend, who I knew was a fireman in New York. He had been an engine chaser when he was a kid, then a volunteer fireman when he was old enough. I knew he was there. And I prayed for him as well as all touched this day. We brought back the news. It was my honor to collaborate with a fantastic editor of The Lantern on the feature article. We cranked it out through tears and sweat. It was a one headline day, a triumph in the journalistic sense, and yet there was no joy in it. For one word was all that was needed to speak the depth of this atrocity.
My son was too young to know at the time, just barely approaching 2. But he was overwrought by it this year, when they talked about it in school for the 10th anniversary. I spoke quietly to him about it, while I held him on my lap, his head close to my heart; and I ached. A decade has passed. A year has passed. It still hurts with a burn that won’t stop. I won’t forget the lessons from either one. I will teach my children the lessons. Cherish your loved ones, time is precious, don’t get impatient – for this too shall pass, you are stronger than you thought you ever could be, breaking down doesn’t mean broken. Those and so many more. I grieve today for the memory of that day. But I grieve the hardest for the little angel who left. Both were senseless, both touched my life in a profound way. A day doesn’t pass when I don’t see those laughing brown eyes and that freckled face reflected in the eyes of my children. Today I grieve. I will never forget.
In Loving Memory
Where were you? I hope you are safe and blessed my friends.

I’m freakin’ Superman in my spare time….

I absolutely love being a stay at home mom and my husband works very hard to make that happen. It was a decision we made together. It ended up working out too while I was so sick. We don’t have a whole lot of extras but we have a pretty decent life. I’ve had much less for the vast majority of my life and so I count the blessings rather than complain about what isn’t perfect here. I have been seeing a new specialist that has made the most progress with my diagnosis and my medications. I have been 5 months without an episode. However my husband and I were talking about it the other night and we also believe that it had something to do with the amount of stress and anxiety that his boys had put us through. The timing just kind of works out that way and so it makes us wonder. The last time I went this long it was when I went to KS and we were separated and it was 4 months.

Since stress is the major activator of my issue it makes sense. Now they are all gone and not helping or even speaking to us. OrdinaryDad, the kids and I have all been pulling double time to keep up with everything. Funny thing is, even though it is stressful, it is getting done and better than when they were around and the extra stress is not causing me any issues. If anything I am working harder and healthier than I have been able to in a long time.

It’s OrdinaryDad who is suffering more than I and I think that is because all my energy is channeled into helping support him and making sure he is okay. Doesn’t matter what they say or do towards me, I haven’t cared what others have thought for a very long time. I’ve dealt with crazy family and drama my whole life and nothing they have done, could do or think of doing would knock me down because I HAVE survived the worst of the worst. It has made me strong and it has made me a fighter. And when I am in fight mode, I don’t have time to worry about my hurt little feelings or even if I do have any. Which is why I’m titled a bitch.Strong women who speak their mind and stand their ground loudly aren’t really appreciate around here. Especially in the South. They are more into the subtle Southern F-you. The one where they tell you to go to hell and you look forward to the trip before figuring out you have been insulted – and usually not till much later.

So between juggling the house and all the things that go with that, the kids and dinner and all the animals etc I am also holding together the strong person who usually helps hold me. Revamping plans for the family business, taking up the slack, stepping up and running some of the other things going on that we keep private from my blog, running this blog and my fan page, which thanks to all you wonderful people is starting to take off. I am also working on a short piece as well as perhaps a book, with the encouragement of a fellow author, blogger and friend.

Yes I have my moments of frustration, upset or resentment but in the end I love my life and chose it for a reason and I will be dammed if anything is going to take that away or otherwise mess with it.

They read this blog avidly. They can’t help themselves. They look for any little crack, any little detail they could possibly use. They blow things out of proportion or flat out lie (yes we have had to defend ourselves in court from the neighbors more than once) and so instead of taking a defensive position we are all offense baby. Starting to take care of our lives as if these people no longer exist. There was a hollow look in his eyes when he told me that his boys no longer existed to him, they have crossed the line and done too much; there is no going back now. And despite all the hurt they caused me it distressed me to hear that. I know all you parents out there are all like “No matter what my kid ever did to me I would never stop loving them or disown them” – well guess what. I was in your shoes too. Still kind of feel that way about it because I trust my kids won’t repeat this disaster. But I do know the possibility exists. And I totally understand why he feels that way. Until you have had your own flesh and blood betray you, lie about you, use you, manipulate you, try to destroy your marriage and then say “you made your bed I hope you die in it” (yes that is a direct quote from Mr. BBP to his dad via text last night) ~ then please don’t come in here throwing darts because he said that.

He means it now and I stand by him, but if he changed his mind in the future because they grew up or realized the truth I would still support his reconnecting with them. But he feels they burned a bridge and it is done at the moment. Do you blame him? His son also flung this blog in his face saying “You still haven’t read her blog and you take her side against us”. Let me speak very slowly and clearly for you ASSHOLEdon't be an asshole.

1) THIS BLOG HANGS OFF YOUR FATHER’S PERSONALLY OWNED WEBSITE – SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE DOESN’T HAVE OPEN ACCESS TO IT.

2) QUITE OFTEN I READ HIM PASSAGES FOR HIS APPROVAL. YES I HAVE CHANGED THINGS AT HIS REQUEST.

3) I HAVE WRITTEN MOST ALL OF WHAT IS HERE WITH HIS PERMISSION AND ENCOURAGEMENT.

4) EVERYTHING HERE IS THE TRUTH AND YOU JUST DON’T LIKE IT BEING OUT THERE FOR GOD AND EVERYONE TO SEE YOUR BULLSHIT

5) I AM ASHAMED OF NOTHING IN THIS BLOG AND YOU CAN SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT.

6) TEST ME – PLEASE TEST ME……

Listen closely.

I.perfect I dont' care
don’t.
give.
a.
flying.
fuck.
what.
you.
think.
of.
me.

You are so wrong here it isn’t even funny. Your dad is wondering if you have lost your ever loving mind. You not only threatened his client relationship and challenged they would pick you over him, saying he couldn’t do a damn thing about it (as if he was even going to or is even like that dummy) but on top of that, you wished him to die. A direct threat against him. I wouldn’t push your luck any further. Karma is a bitch and I promise if you follow the neighbors path and papaw’s path – it won’t play out like you think it will.entitlement

And just an FYI – YOU are the only one who flunked out of school Mr. BBP. I was nearly killed in an auto accident my first round and my second round I chose raising my kid over finishing school at that time. I’ve never flunked out like you did. And in a matter of a year or so, I can have my masters degree – you don’t have shit. Have a nice life.

Keep reading me, keep hating me ~ it affects my life not at all. We will press on, be successful, shake the dust of all this bullshit off our shoes and raise our family together. You chose not to be a part of that. YOU chose to write yourself out of your father’s story. And YOU chose the enemy over him not the other way around. My friends and fans stand by me and so does OrdinaryDad as well as my kids both adopted and blood. So keep it up, nothing you do matter to us. I have my happiness and place to be at home, you threw yours away.

   pocket full of fucks

See my friends, I try to speak about other topics and they just refuse to give me breathing space. Thanks for being there for the journey both good and bad. Until we meet again, stay safe and be blessed.

 

Banjo Music In Our Own Backyard……..the Background (Part 1)

it only takes a small spark to start a wildfire.........

So, this is such a long story it may turn out to be a two/three part-er. It started years ago, and I haven’t said much if anything about it. You all know that my husband’s father hates my guts. You may not know why. You know his oldest son feels the same way, you may not know why. You all know he is completely estranged from the majority of his family….but again the whys are important. It all leads to the path we are on now and the pressing stress and fallout. Hang on for the ride of your life, I couldn’t make shit up like this if I tried.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

We flash back in time to when Dennis and I were still dating. Our first party thrown as a couple, Memorial Day I believe. We had all his friends over as well as his father, who lived right next door at the time. Yes I lived with him for a while till my apartment was ready but we lived separate until we got engaged. The old coot never came over to see us, we had to go there. He rarely had anyone but Cody over and was a butt when we used his hot tub out back. Didn’t celebrate holidays even when we lived that close. Well this particular day he did nothing to help, no big deal. Didn’t bring anything, no big deal. Refused to put his extra chairs over the fence, okay *sigh* send the boys over to get them. People start arriving, we send someone over to get him. He waits till the food is nearly ready so he doesn’t have to mingle. Walks in and starts ripping on the food. LOUDLY!! My husband was grilling burgers, chicken, hot dogs and brats. He starts on and on about how they are disgusting and look like penises on the grill. How can anyone eat those things they are obscene and disgusting and blah blah blah. I’m starting to get embarrassed and our guest are looking amused but uncomfortable. Dennis warns him he is upsetting me and he basically said he like aggravating me and continues. I finally caught him aside and hissed that he did nothing to help, sat on his butt, refused to put chairs over and that if he didn’t like what was there he could go home but he was going to stop being rude and disrespectful. That’s it folks. That moment of standing up to him pissed him off and since then all I have heard was what a bitch I am, how there is something wrong with my kids, he doesn’t want me anywhere near him, blah blah blah. He tried to talk Dennis out of marrying me and then faked it for the wedding but afterwards everything changed.

What I have done since the wedding, is stop all his using and manipulating. He would have Cody over but never the twins. Admits that he doesn’t like the twins and then amends it to he cannot handle them together, though he never wants to have Cameron. My kids aren’t allowed to call him papaw, they have to call him Alex. No acknowledgement of them at all. He would have Aley over, have him do all the honey-do’s of the house, pay him $20 bucks and complain about having to feed them. So I said okay, they aren’t his slave labor. He never comes to their football games, never comes for ANY holidays, never participates at all. Twenty wouldn’t buy him five minutes of a professional’s time so let him hire someone for that crap and if he wants to see the boys he can set something different. So now I “keep him from seeing his grandsons” as he has told anyone and everyone that will listen, and he never tries to see them or call them. I stopped him treating my husband like shit and then expecting him to jump when he wanted something. He has had Dennis under his truck after being in the hospital for hurting his back. He bought him a recliner as a gift and then made Dennis pay him back. Again, I put my foot down and told Dennis he deserved better than that. It went on till his dad sent gifts last Christmas for the twins but not for my kids. Not even directly, but through the neighbors we are having issues with (thanks to his gossip and manipulation – they talk on a weekly basis and listen to his lies). Dennis was pissed and sent them back saying if he wasn’t going to include them all then we didn’t want anything.

That is why his dad hates me. Now he is and has separated me and Dennis and the boys from the rest of the family with his lies.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Why does his son hate me? Well back in the same days I found out that my grandfather was very sick. I was sitting on the back porch smoking a cigarette and being upset. His son Cody came back and told me that he could get me some pot. I was shocked and like WTF? Who the hell offers something like that especially to his dad’s new girlfriend? Now I had to decide what to do. What would you do? I would want someone to let me know that about my child and I don’t lie to my significant other especially. What good is a relationship without trust and honesty? So I told his dad and we set up a safe way for him to be caught. Then we confronted him. He stopped being friends with that boy, ended up having a great high school career, and was the unsung hero at his senior football banquet. He even told me that his life had turned out better for it, but he would always hate me for it and never thank me for it and I told him I was content with that. He spent the next several years undermining the family dynamic by drilling into the twins that family is blood and only blood. He manipulated things by encouraging bad behavior and then coming to be “friends” with me to help me out.

He hated the twins for taking his time from his dad and he resented me and the kids even more because we weren’t related. He tried to break us up on the sly with his little games. Oh he gave a sweet little toast on the wedding day, but he didn’t mean a word of it. While we were on our honeymoon he picked up two girls and had sex with one at the house with my kids there. I got asked questions by my son afterwards. Then on his 18th birthday a few weeks later, he tried to have me arrested. We heard (through the small town grapevine) that he was going to have a keg snuck in. We told him there better not be any alcohol because the cops would be there. Well they did end up showing up, about 5 minutes after I busted him myself. While I took the dogs inside he told them it was mine. Then he tried to say I gave them permission. I was beyond pissed but stuck up for him. Told them he was on his way to college with a football ride and even though we were having issues with him we were trying to get him straightened out. They left and when his dad grounded him for throwing me under the bus, he packed his stuff and left. He spent the next year sponging off various people, and his grandpa fed a LOT of it. He bought him a car on the sly, even though it cost $25 for him to fix his here. He gave him money and other things without telling us anything. Various friends kicked him out once he didn’t do anything but eat and sleep and jack off. So then Dennis’ father did the unthinkable. He snuck him a bus ticket to go live with his mother in Arizona. (Who by the way we won custody of all three boys from. Well she sent Cody away but we got the twins) Who does that behind a parent’s back? Cody never held a job till he was 19 and even then he works stocking shelves part-time at pet smart and joined the reserves but refuses to do anything serious with it. He just turned down special forces training. When he left here, he walked away from college starting as second-string halfback, we blew $5,000.00 plus on getting him set up at this college not to mention more than one bailout and more than one vehicle, several sets of tires. He had the money ( a secret gift from his aunt at the wedding, plus money from the Obama work program, plus from us) three times over to pay the $1,500+ needed for school and he was pissed we wouldn’t pay it. Blamed us for ruining school. The last attempt was him trying to get some stuff from the house before he left state. I told him there was nothing here that was his and he told me he would call the cops and report me for theft. I asked him who’s house was it in and told him to go ahead.

Once all the shit hit the fan with Cody and my health declined so sharply, things got worse. If you remember I am 5’10” tall and weighed 125lbs at my wedding. Well according to my F-I-L’s gossip, we are doing drugs up here, not I almost died, not the ambulance drivers and I are on a first name basis they were here so often and not I had surgery to fix it -was in the hospital for a week and now I have been healthy since. He even accused my husband of stealing his pain pills even though his dad is in early stage Alzheimer’s and can’t remember taking his meds even with someone standing there telling him he just took them. We even gave the spare key back so there was no way to enter the house and he still insisted Dennis was stealing them. Now to mention Cody was the one stealing them and selling them in the high school football locker room. How do I know this?  I woke to him several nights stealing my medications that I was taking for my stomach issues while I was sick. And several people have told me personally that he sold them in the locker room – other football kids who respect me and look up to me.

So we have just kinda been laying low, trying not to respond to their idiocy, trying not to stoop to their level. My gut told me that it would only get worse, but I hate confrontation and so I just hoped it would all eventually blow over.

Little did we know how bad it was going to get……………..to be continued.

it only takes a small spark to start a wildfire.........

Easier To Run

Pretending I don’t feel misplaced Is so much simpler than change .....

Pretending I don’t feel misplaced Is so much simpler than change .....

If I could change I would
Take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
If I could take all the shame to the grave I would……
If I could change I would
Take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
I would take all my shame to the grave

It is easier to run, than to stand your ground when the shit hits the fan. I think what we all really fear is the silence. Because in the silence our insecurities start speaking, they fill us with all of the worst of us. In the silence, misunderstandings are born. It is also in that silence that decision are made. Some we realize right away, and others take longer to sink into our consciousness. In this silence our fears paint pictures that might not be fully accurate; If we don’t ask or tell – then that space is filled with something else, just depends on what your specific baggage may be. We reflexively tuck our stresses and problems inside us where they are safe and yet it is the things we don’t talk about that end up killing or separating relationships. It is easier to flee, to try to leave those things behind us. To admit them takes courage, the kind of courage that I am trying to find within my own heart.

Wherever you go, there you are. No matter how fast and how far you run, you will always catch up to yourself. There is no escape from your emotions, problems or issues. You take them with you. They live in the silence, in the shadows of your heart and they stay there until you deal with them once and for all. And if you keep denying they are there, one night they will catch up to you in the dark spaces in between our conscious and unconscious mind. You fill up your days with all kinds of activity and mostly you can keep your mind out of that deep hole, but in the evening when you are laying your head down to sleep and your defenses are low, they creep around the corners and you find yourself caught up again.

There is so much that remains unsaid, unvoiced, maybe even unrealized that shapes who and what we are. The way you respond automatically to certain circumstances, the way smells or sounds can take you back in time instantaneously; there is no escape. And so rather than be buried beneath it all, you must take a deep breath and look hard at the WHY. We see the what every day, but do you know why you believe what you believe or react how you react? No? Most people don’t even realize they can change the pattern if they figure out what it is that moves them.

I heard it described once as such: those moments in time where you have been hurt, neglected or upset – you freeze and bury those moments – and yet what we don’t realize is that we freeze a piece of ourselves as well. We remain the hurt child, the confused teenager, the bitter adult that we were at the moment that incident/emotion hit us. I’m tired of leaving all this crap frozen in the glacier that surrounds my private thoughts and feelings – and yet there is no safety for me in giving anyone anything that I consider a vulnerability.

That soft spot has been taken and used by more than one person. I started slamming the door shut in people’s faces when I was hurt or wronged. I will write you out of my story quicker than you can blink. I know it isn’t right, I know it isn’t healthy but I KNOW you can’t hurt me if you don’t know. I find myself becoming more and more private with my thoughts. I don’t even talk to my ‘friends’ as much as I used to. Not because they don’t love me or care, but they have their own lives and I can’t expect anyone to wanna dig through all the muck and mire with me. I know my true friends will always have their hands and heart out for me when I need encouragement but I find myself not wanting to intrude or bother people. Maybe that is a lie I tell myself so I can justify keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself. I can tell you that I don’t even tell these things to my husband anymore either.

I feel lost and alone though I am constantly surrounded by people (6 of us in this house plus the kiddos’ friends in and out) and 5 dogs, well it is hard to sit and while away the day in contemplation of how to remove myself from this rut I am stuck in. It pisses me off to no end that I cannot put my finger on why I am unhappy, I have everything I ever wished for and yet it rings hollow. Times are tough right now and I keep searching for answers or meaning.

I want to tell you exactly what it is inside me right now – but I don’t even know, so how can I describe it to y’all? I’m constantly stressed and frustrated and unhappy and nobody knows it but me…….

I am the voice crying in the wilderness of my barren soul praying for rain.