I AM SUPER EXCITED! My sister-in-law, Stephy, called me October 18th to let me know the big news and I was shocked and happy for her and her husband, Michael. It’s finally happening! I thought. The “kids” of the family are making our “own” family. The “new” Thanksgiving and Christmas traditions, birthday and Halloween parties, and I am going to be a part of it all!

Honestly, I had dreamed of this moment ever since high school, when I finally discovered boys and the true meaning of a serious relationship. In grade school I figured I could marry this boy named Travis, because he had so many brothers and sisters I couldn’t count them all. Wow! Wouldn‘t that be fun? Then in junior high, I had a slight crush on my friend Katie’s brother, Steve. This was more for convenience, however, because Katie and I could be SISTERS! I realize how stupid I had been and thankfully this all changed in high school. Even then, I really didn’t know what to expect when it came to dating. This fabulous man-discovery happened too late, when every guy in high school ignored me and I thought dating would be silly since I would be leaving for college anyway. I did know what I wanted eventually, though, and wanted a marriage like my mom and dad’s. I saw my mom as a dedicated wife and mother, and our little three-member family meant everything to her. I loved it being just the three of us, but still treasure all the memories I have of growing up with Christmas parties and Thanksgiving dinners with my aunts, uncles, and cousins, too. Yes, this may sound strange, but I never pictured a luxurious wedding or an exotic honeymoon, yet pictured day-to-day moments with my very own family. In addition, I knew my only shot at ever becoming an aunt myself was to marry a man with siblings. 

IT’S HAPPENING!

And with this news came multiple discussions with my husband over having a child of our own. Soon. We both want children and think our soon-to-be niece or nephew would love to have a cousin to play with. 

So, 2013 will welcome a new baby for my sister and brother-in-law in May, a BRAND NEW brother-in-law for me when my husband’s sister Jen gets married in October, and POSSIBLY a big announcement from my husband and me. *keeping fingers crossed*

To recap, 2013 is going to be AWESOME!

I’M RUNNING MY VERY FIRST 5K!!!!!! It’s the Color Run, and apparently you’re supposed to wear white and you get drenched in colors as you run. The best part is one of the sponsors is the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I AM PUMPED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://thecolorrun.com/cincinnati/

…kinda wish I did it when I could have in college. Looks fun, exciting, and NOT a medium to mess with while intoxicated…

I was going through old flashdrives and found this gem. My husband will be thrilled.

Momisms:

bath (Pronounced with a short “A”—- like a bleating sheep)

belt See Brrr

bomb A car. Example—-Look at that guy in that bomb over there! He just went through a red light!

bright-eyed and bushy-tailed 1.To look refreshed. Example—-For being up early, you certainly look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! 2. To be awake. Example—-If we want to make it Casino Windsor by eight AM, we have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by five! (Author’s note—-I HATE this expression with a passion!)

brrr Beer. Example—-Hey, Kid!, go get me another brrr, wouldja?

buzz the ave To cruise through a lively section of town to see what interesting things are taking place. Example—-I’m gonna go buzz the ave and see what’s going on! 

creepin’ crud The common cold. Example—-Eww! Do you think you’ve got the creepin’ crud? Cuz if you do, don’t breathe on me!

crutch A car that is in disrepair, rusted-out, and an all-around whip but miraculously still runs. Example—-I hope your aunt gets rid of that old crutch. It’s four different colors and held together with duct tape. (Note: Every crutch is a bomb, but every bombs is a crutch)

fungus Suspicious looking person/people. Example—-Lock the doors! There’s fungus walking down the sidewalk! (Dad-ism)

get our butts to butterin’! To get busy. Example—-If we want to have that roast done by six, we’ve got to get our butts to butterin’!

he/she/you sound/s like a fifty-cent bicycle pump Simile used to describe how a person’s breathing sounds when that person has a cold. 

Hey Suze! Sounding similar to the Spanish pronunciation of  “Jesus,” this expression is used by my dad at least a dozen times per day. Examples include—Hey Suze, c‘mere a minute and Hey Suze, get me another brrr!

Holy Toledo! See Jesus Ohio!

honeycooler A person that appears dirty or unkempt. Also describes a potentially dishonest or violent person. Examples—-I’ve been sweatin’ up a storm painting all day. I must look like a real honeycooler. OR The Toledo police just arrested a man for raping a three-month-old. What a real honeycooler!

it’s on the table! Another way of saying that supper is ready. Supper doesn’t even have to be physically on the table, either. Repeat this as often as necessary until everyone is seated at the table. 

Jesus Ohio! An exclaimation of surprise, shock, or excitement. On a map, Holy Toledo! Is located in the northwest region of Jesus Ohio!

nast Snot or germs. Example—-You sound like a fifty-cent bicycle pump! Wash your hands and don’t nast all over me!

nose pickin’ music Rap, hip-hop, or any music where people scream. (Dad-ism)

not gonna get up til I wake up An expression that describes the desire to obtain a full-night’s rest without setting an alarm.

O (Pronounced ‘Ol) Oil.

OK! (Pronounced with a long “O” Oooooooh KAY!) Repeat as often as you feel when there is nothing to be said but you feel obligated to say something. To add emphasis, it helps to snap your fingers or clap your hands, as well.

rid off the table To clear the dinner table. (Dad-ism)

sack Bed. Example—-I’m gonna go hit the sack.

snot rag A tissue, especially an used one.

that’s nice Spoken with a sarcastic tone, it denotes disgust or displeasure when something goes wrong. Example—-”Mom, that cat just puked on your bed!” “That’s nice!”

what’s the haps? Shortened, “hip” version that’s located somewhere between “Whuzup?!“ and “What is happening?” (Dad-ism)

whew! Use this expression often, especially after a succession of sneezes. 

whipstitch Describes an event that happens often or habitually. Another way to say “again and again.”  Example—-I can’t be buyin’ you liquor every whipstitch! What are you? Some lush?!

winder lights Windows. Example—-Well, now that it’s dark I’m gonna go close up the winder lights.

I am drunk.

On a Wednesday.

Because, why not?

In other news my husband PROMISED me I can have a baby next year. (He may have had his fingers crossed behind his back. Who knows.)

I guess pregnancy would end my drunken Wednesdays. (And any other day ending in Y, for that matter.)

Well, good. My husband, father, and my mother (when she was here) all thought I drank too much. 

They’d all be thrilled I’d buying baby formula over vodka, anyhow. 

Honest to hell having a baby is a win-win situation. Besides, both our families are fantastic with just the right amount of disfunction to make us interesting. Subjecting a poor, innocent child to us all seems so…so right!

Baby now!

I’ll have another! (beer) I am making homemade french fries in the OVEN. I better check ‘em before I burn my apartment down…

I am knee-deep in job applications on my slo-o-o-o-o-o-w computer. I need a way out of my embarrassing life. Everything about it, from my one bedroom dump with a leaky toilet that is too small to even share with my husband to my shitty, shitty job. I suddenly have become frustrated with EVERYTHING. All I want to do is sit home and paint, but I don’t think anyone will pay me. I am convinced my stuff must be shit because no one even fucking cares about any of it. So I’m going to try entering the bullshit rat-race, and pretend i give two fucks about profit margins and whatever else businessy lingo there is to throw around. All I really want to do is have a baby. I want one so bad, but I can barely afford groceries. (I was in the Talented and Gifted program in grade school! I had so much hope placed upon me! Where the fuck did I go wrong?) I just want to have a baby and be like other women who are much younger than me. Fuck.

…I’m going to sign up to volunteer for my local Leukemia & Lymphoma Society chapter. I’ve recently missed the feeling of being involved with ANYTHING and feel my job is anything but satisfying. I want to feel like I’m making a difference. The LLS proved to be an extremely helpful organization when it came to my mom, so what better way to say thanks and give back? Besides, ever since I’ve had this notion, I’ve seen a few students here and there wearing LLS “Light the Night” t-shirts. I took them as signs.

And by saying all of this, I gotta do it now!

http://www.lls.org/

…realizing that all my favorite TV shows are aired on a station that only has commercials for power chairs, life insurance, catheters, and reverse home mortgages.

…not only not knowing any songs by Ke$ha, but having to do an internet search to figure out who she is. (I had to do the same with Justin Beiber.) Yet, I have a FAVORITE Everly Brothers song. (Bird Dog)

…going to a local bluegrass jam at your hometown’s tiny airport with your dad. Not only that, but my presence dropped the median age of the fellow concert-goers to 73. 

…never ONCE used the internet for any paper throughout high school. While my husband had a cell phone in college, I didn’t get one until after I had graduated.

I’m going to once again try to keep up with tumblr and blogging. I have felt compelled to write more in more, given the circumstances in which I’ve found myself. So, I won’t promise quality, but I will be writing about whatever touches me that day. An experience, a memory (most of my memories of my mom will go into a private paper journal I’m keeping), life. I still scare myself that it hasn’t really HIT. I remember laying in bed as a little kid, scared, realizing for the first time my parents were mortal and could DIE. I do think I know why I’m taking it so well, however, and it’s a combination of things. One being there when she passed, and seeing things I NEVER want to see again. The other…I’m not ready to say. Perhaps later…

I’m sitting on one of my new folding chairs on my balcony this morning, enjoying the shade and my second cup of coffee before the relentless sun emerges from behind my apartment complex. My beautiful new folding chairs. Didn’t my parents just give them to Chris and me for an anniversary gift just six, seven weeks ago? It’s moments like this. Little things. It wasn’t the funeral (like I thought) or looking through photos of her (sometimes, but usually they make me smile). It’s making a lunchtime vegetable plate and realizing for the first time I didn’t have to make the portions divisible by three. Or seeing her two pink robes hanging up on the door, one well-worn and the other newer, fluffier. She ALWAYS wore robes. And to know she would never throw one over her nightclothes and come out to the kitchen and join us for a cup of coffee (in her rainbow and sunshine mug, with milk). If I was home on a summer day like today, and it WASN’T the 4th of July, we would make Sandusky plans over City Bakery rolls…“Let’s go to Penny’s and Kaufmann’s, and then maybe a bite of lunch at Dianna’s Deli? Sounds great, how about a stop into Pat Catan’s? Hey, if we’re still over there after four, let’s call your dad and see if he’d like us to bring home a Cameo Pizza?” I can still see her eyes light up…

Little things.

There was a reason I chose her to be my matron of honor at my wedding. She was truly my best friend. She did all the “mom” stuff when I was little: “Wash your hands! Get that out of your mouth! What do you say? Quit squirming!” (And the infamous “NO ICE CREAM” story.) But somewhere in junior high, my mom became my best friend. We shared life together; clothes shopping, family recipes, childhood experiences, lunch dates. Ha, I’ll never forget when I told her I first started my period, to which she replied, “How do you know?!” It still makes me laugh. 

Last weekend my dad came down here to visit and my mom’s not being here was strange. Awfully strange.  I used to get so nervous driving with my parents and Chris in the car, because I was responsible for my WHOLE LIFE. But this weekend all I could think was how it was “my two guys and me.” My mom, the voice of reason, my girl buddy, someone to take my side…gone. This emptiness is difficult to explain. My dad and I aren’t talking about her death, either. He tries. He tells me of what “sets him off” and what makes him cry and I don’t want to hear about it. I’m sorry, but I don’t, and I wish I knew what my problem was. I only reply “I know,“ and stare off, hoping the subject quickly changes. Chris and I have often discussed how terrible it is the way guys always felt they had to repress their feelings and be macho men. But when it comes to MY father, I can’t do it. I’m afraid to talk to him about Mom. It’s easier for me to stuff my feelings away and then write it all out later in a journal. (I talk to my mom through my journal. Maybe it’s healthy, maybe not, but it helps.) My dad needs me more than ever yet I can’t even be there for him, so I feel like I’m failing as a daughter, too. Of course I have my moments, too. Those little things. The little things that kick me in the stomach. Those little things I’m even afraid to acknowledge. Right now I would rather keep skimming across the surface of the lake like a leaf than plunge in. I’m scared of myself and where my mom’s death leaves US. More on this later… 

I’ll end with the one comforting thing I experienced. That night, after we laid her to rest, I dreamed about my Mom. Chris and I had gone to UC and we were getting our degrees in finance. I was sitting with my dad up in the risers with Charley Pride (odd), awaiting the ceremony. An announcement over the loudspeaker informed the crowd that Linda Gray was going to be the guest speaker. I looked over and sitting up there by us was my mom! Our eyes met and we both excitedly mouthed, “DALLAS!” to each other. My mom looked so youthful, with her soft brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. (I have a picture of my second birthday party, one of my hotter birthdays, where the “icing melt off my cake,” as my mom told me time and time again. Sitting around the table, my grandparents, aunt, and I looked hot and sweaty. But not my mom. She looked so pretty and happy.) That was the way she looked in my dream, too. At first I was so relieved that the first dream I had of her was actually funny (dreaming about our shared love of Dallas…only me!). Then I realized she wanted me to know that wherever she was going, she made it and that she was happy. No cancer!