Ouch.

I have a well documented love affair with Anderson Cooper.  He's incredibly good looking, intelligent, funny, and generous.  What is not to love?  When I mention this, people undoubtedly look at me, cock their head and say "But isn't he gay?"

HE HASN'T COME OUT YET!  DON'T SPOIL MY DREAMS!

I'm sure if he met me, I could convince him to come to my team.

At the end of the school year, we had "Name Day" where you could select a new name for the day.  I selected "Mrs. A. Cooper."  I thought it was very clever until a teacher came up to me and said "Heh...heh.  Alice Cooper.  Funny."  Not Alice, ANDERSON!!!!!

While I am visiting my loving grandmother, she is intent on squashing out any positive self esteem that I might still possess.  This includes regular conversations about my weight, hair, and clothing.  In one breath she is encouraging me to order a heinously bad for you dessert and in the next, she's insulting me.  If I weighed 85 pounds, it wouldn't be thin enough for her.

Of course, she does not think that I should have a crush on Anderson.  Her answer to me? 

"Non-Mommy, you can't be with Anderson Cooper.  He's too small for you!  You need a big man!"

Apparently, his celebrity isn't a problem for her.  The fact that I will never meet him isn't a problem for her.  The rumor that he is gay isn't a problem for her.  No, the problem is that he's too small for me.

Shoot me now.

Danger!

My grandmother is notorious for getting words wrong, leaving out words, and horrific spelling.  It adds to her charm. 

So imagine my shock when the following conversation happened:

Her:  Did you put sunblock on your face this morning?


Me:  No, my makeup has sunblock in it.  If I'm not going outside, I don't worry about it as much.


Her:  Huh.  I don't think any of my makeup has the HIV in it.


Me:  The...HIV?


Her:  Yeah.


Me:  HIV. 


Her:  ??


Me:  I'm really glad your makeup doesn't have HIV in it.  That seems like a really bad idea.

For Dad

Two years ago, my boss walked into my classroom and changed my life forever when she said "You need to go call your mom.  I'll watch your class."  I asked if it was about my dad and she did this little head wiggle, hesitated and said "...You just need to go call your mom."

My life would never be the same.  I knew it from the way her head wiggled.

The thing is, things were already changing.  In fact, it is safe to say that things in Non-Mommyland had gone from Threat Level Orange to Threat Level Red in a short time.  There I was, a single woman with two college degrees and a miserable life.  I hated where I lived.  A major, major part of my life hurt me more deeply than she'd ever understand.  The people I worked with were ugly and mean.  I was angry and scared with a boss that I felt I couldn't trust.  I felt like my life was wasting away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  A new job wasn't an option.  I was trapped.  And sinking into a sea of despair.  There I was, a grown woman, and I would leave my parents' house on the weekends bawling at the idea of returning to my job and the town I was living in.

It came to head one day during a math lesson when I went down like an anvil.  By the end of the night, I was in my home, sobbing, unable to breathe, calling my mother and best friend/cousin over and over in hopes that maybe somehow one of them would magically be able to fix it all.

A few weeks later, I became ill with what seemed a normal cold.  Given my high stress levels, my body didn't stand much of a chance.  I contracted H1N1 and became ill very quickly.  I developed bronchitis, pneumonia and laryngitis.  I was too risky to be put in the hospital, so I laid in my bed, alone, for two weeks.  I was the sickest I have ever, ever been.  In fact, one night I laid in my bed, too weak to move and felt like this was it - I really was going to pass away.  After I recovered from the worst of it, the laryngitis lingered for a month.  I was unable to speak and had to teach by writing on the board, using the SmartBoard and typing, or whispering "Tell the class that I said..." into a child's ear.

My spirit was low, as was my body.



A few months later, I woke up in the middle of the night with severe nausea.  By the morning, I was in great pain.  I was able to take a shower, go to the doctor for blood tests, and return to my home in time to find out that I was suffering from appendicitis.  I stood with my forehead against the wall in such intense pain I could hardly see straight.  My parents came as soon as they were able, took me to the hospital, and I had what ended up being a very costly appendectomy.

Can stress cause appendicitis?  Medically speaking, probably not.  Do I attribute it to that?  Yes.

This brings us to a few weeks later when the assistant principal came in and told me to call my mother.  Deep in my soul, I knew.  In fact, I'd just had a dream that he had died.  I woke up worried about what would happen if he died in a hotel room and no one knew.  That weekend, I had gotten out a copy of their will to read it to see what would happen if he died.

So, my father, on a business trip, left his hotel room, went to a Panera Bread for lunch, got his food, opened his laptop, and it was all over as he knew it.

It had been just a typical Wednesday morning.  I'd had no idea that I'd end the day in another state, watching my poor father pass away while muttering "Oh, Dad.  Oh, Dad."



Two years.

I still miss him, incredibly.  But because of his death, so much has changed for me.  I've moved to somewhere that I love.  I've taken a new job.  The new job is a much, much healthier environment for me.  I am making friends that are so funny and nice.  My coworkers are pleasant, friendly and not mean and cold.  I've found a church in my new area, and I love it.

I feel like a new person.  I feel like the woman I used to be.  The woman I was meant to be.  Life is not perfect, no.  Struggles still suck and I'm not naive enough to think I will never go through hard times because I've made changes.  And yet, through the incredible pain, good has come.  Plans were coming together for me long before I could ever see it.  I miss my father every minute of every day.  But his passing gave me the courage, the desire, the opportunity to make life changes.  And I couldn't be happier.  I only wish he could see, and know that I'm ok.

He'd want the best for me.

But really?  He was the best.

I'm Befuddled

I'm easily confused.  I mean, hello, I am a natural blonde.  But there are a few things that I don't understand, and I'm hoping you'll explain the rationale to me.

People leaving their dogs in cars.

I've been noticing that there is an old woman that leaves her dog in her car during church.  The other day, I noticed that there were dogs in a car at the gym, too.  Can people really not leave their dogs for like an hour to go to church or the gym?  What do they do when it's too warm to leave them in the car?  And I doubt they are guard dogs, because these are fluffy little dogs.  What's the deal?

The LOST Liars

I was a huge, huge LOST fan.  The producers promised us that at the end of the show, they wouldn't all be dead.  This led me to religiously watch and analyze each and every episode trying to figure it all out.  Well, and let's be honest.  This guy might have been an incentive to watch, too.

So then we go through six years of the show, and SURPRISE, they're all dead.  What the heck?  Why lie about it?  And then say "Oh, yeah and as soon as the show is over, we won't give interviews either" because you know that everyone will be pissed at you.  Not cool, J.J. Adams and Damon Lindeloff.  Not cool.  And I'm still bitter.

People That Don't Use Their Garage for the Intended Purpose

Now, this issue really doesn't apply to people that live in warm climates.  But I never understand why people fill their garage with crap and then park their cars outside.  Do they like having to get up early and warm up the car?  Do they enjoy having to scrape the windshield every day, or brush off snow?  Why would you opt to do that when you could park your car in a warm, dry room that allows you to not step outside in winter's fury?  Really, if your garage is full of crap, are you using it anyway?  Shouldn't you just toss it and put your cars in the garage instead?

Sucky, Sucky Grief

It's coming up on two years since my dad passed away and I'm suddenly all emotional for no reason!  It's so weird!  You'll be going along mostly fine, pretty much accepting that he's gone forever and then all the sudden you're a soppy mess.  What's the deal?!  How long will this go on?

And finally, NETFLIX.

Netflix, how I loved thee.  For years I've been a member of yours and loved it.  It was affordable, I could get pretty much any movie I wanted, and life was good.  But then, you had to go and screw it all up with your price change, company name change, company name change redaction, and getting all those movie companies to yank their movies from you.  Now, the streaming movies suck and you keep not adding new content.  I'm just waiting and waiting for someone else, like iTunes, to come up with a similar service and then I'm switching for good.  I just don't understand what happened.  You had a total monopoly!  Did you get greedy?  Was it mismanagement?  Whatever it was, I have fond memories but I'm ready to move on from you.  I hope your predecessor will work with my Apple TV.

Thanks for the support!

I've been attempting to get back into shape lately.  I've never been a terribly athletic person, but I had totally dropped the ball (and not a medicine ball!) in regards to exercise.  I've been working out with a trainer, but I think I'm frustrating her.  In all fairness, I did try to warn her.

I told her that I grew up Baptist.  There is not a flexible move in these Baptist born bones!  No matter how much I may want to, I am physically incapable of dancing or moving in any sort of fluid motion.  It's not my fault.  Blame the SBC.

I also told her that I'm directionally challenged.  I have a hard time following an exercise leader.  Do I move in the same direction as he or she?  Or do I move the same arm that he or she is moving, even though it's backwards?

I also told her that I'm a teacher. If there is one thing I can do well, it is follow directions.  However, I am going to make darn sure that I follow the directions TO THE LETTER, and I'm not going to start anything until I'm absolutely sure that my body placement is correct, I understand what I'm about to do, and more importantly, while I'm doing whatever I've been told, is anyone looking?

So during training, she kind woman keeps smiling and saying (between clenched teeth) "No, move your foot this way. Other way. More. More. Too much. No, move it back. Can you...no...move your other foot the other way."

I was telling my sister about my problems and expected her to be all sympathetic.  What did she say?

She chuckled and said "Yeah. I remember you in Jazzercise. We were all going along working hard, and there you were..."

YES, YES, I KNOW. I was going the wrong direction. And doing it all wrong.

I will never have a career as a dancer. Or fitness instructor.

Happy PJGiving

I know that I always wish I could wear jeans to bed!

I only have to mention the words "pajamas" and "shopping" and I know what is coming.  My sister can't fathom how much companies charge for pajamas.  She thinks it is a total rip off to buy pajamas, and don't even get her started on the cost of children's pajamas!

Me?  I am the total opposite.  I love wearing pajamas.  In life there are a few things that I think are worth investing some money in...trips to foreign countries, dental work, and comfortable night clothing.  After a long day's work, when I know that I won't be going anywhere for the rest of the night, it's not uncommon for me to change into pajamas as soon as I get home.  In fact, that is one perk of being single - I can wear pajamas whenever I like!  And since they cover me nicely, and no one is touching my legs, shaving is on the bottom of my to-do list!  (Perhaps, on closer examination, this is why I am still single.  Food for thought.)

It's hard for me to understand what isn't to love about purchasing pajamas for yourself.  They are so comfortable and can be very cute.  It's so easy to get cheap, comfy pajamas at places like Target, Kohl's, even Sam's Club!  When it is cold outside and your body is tired, it's so refreshing to slip on a pair of pajamas that are soft and warm.  I mean, what is the alternative?  Wearing a t-shirt and sweats?  Yuck.  Sleeping nude?

Actually, I have to say that I tried sleeping nude once.  I wondered what the big deal was, and it was very hot outside.  I lived by myself, why not?.  I felt like such a rebel.  Hot stuff, sleeping in the buff!  But, it was not a good situation.  I couldn't sleep well at all!  What if there was a house fire and I had to race outdoors and I was naked?  What if I had a medical emergency and had to call 911 and they found me naked?  I'm also quite a sleep walker.  I've woken up many times in strange places, doing strange things. Taking clothing out of that scenario just makes it worse.  Imagine, me standing in the middle of the road talking about being the mayor of the town, totally naked.

I woke up all night long worried about my lack of clothing.  That is unlikely to be something I will do again.

So, pajamas are something I will continue to invest in, and I think it's time that my sister did as well.  I'm going to keep giving her pajamas until she becomes so addicted that she comes to "the dark side."

Are you particular about your night wear?

I'm a Drip

Yesterday I decided to tackle a leaky faucet.  I have never in my life done anything with plumbing.  I have always had my dad to do things like that.  He loved being Mr. Fixit.  And let's be honest, I loved allowing him to be Mr. Fixit!

So, I followed directions for fixing it, went to the hardware store to get the new part that I needed, and I fixed it.  I was very proud of myself!  I know that my dad would have been very pleased.



I do have to wonder, though, when this grief crap will ever get over.  Going to the hardware store was hard for me.  My entire life, even as an infant, my father took me to the hardware store.  It was his favorite place!  He really believed that you should support the local Mom and Pop hardware stores.  I've spent unknown hours of my life looking at the weird odds and ends in those stores, waiting on my dad.  He'd stand there, staring at the item, thinking about it.  He was a slow thinker.  As I got older, I'd suggest something to him, or he'd ask my opinion about a purchase he was going to make for the house.  He'd stand there, hand on his hip or one finger over his lips, listen to what I'd say, stare at me intently while he visualized what I said, and then say "Yeah, you're right."

So going into the hardware store was difficult.  The smell hit me instantly.  That smell reminds me of my dad.  And his absence.  But, I know he'd be bursting with pride that I did it all by myself.

I wish very much that he was here, and that I could go to the hardware store with him.

Suffering from SPA

Working in an environment that is 99.9999% female means many things.  This list includes catty fights, tears on a regular basis, more cutesy crap than you can shake a stick at and...parties.  Not just any party.  These parties are money makers.  I'm talking about

Pampered Chef


Scentsy


Home Interiors


Tupperware


Mary Kay


Beauty Control


Silpada


Lia Sophia


Miche Bags


Thirty One bags


Passion


JAFRA


Celebrating Home


Longaberger baskets

parties.  The list could go on and on.  These are all things that I have been invited to/guilted into/suckered into throughout my teaching career.  And perhaps I'm just a little bit cynical, but when I get an invite to one of these things, I inwardly (and perhaps outwardly as well) groan.  There seems to be an unwritten rule.  If you get invited to one of these things, you have to buy something.  I don't get it!  I must have missed that 11th commandment "Thou shalt support thy fellow coworkers by purchasing cheap faddy crap whenever presented with the opportunity."  And like a dutiful person, I do it.

The thing is, I have enough Pampered Chef orange peelers to tunnel my way to China.  I don't want a bag that has interchangeable sides.  I think expensive baskets are a waste and frankly, most of the Scentsy stuff stinks.

Now, however, I'm feeling the pressure.  I know someone that works for a jewelry company and she wants me to have a party.  My mother and sister think I should have a party.  I am completely immobilized, however.  I am suffering from a severe case of SPA - Severe Party Anxiety.  Don't get me wrong.  I love a good party!  I enjoy having people over!  But in my mind, if I do this party, one of two disastrous things will happen:  1)  people will groan and resent having to buy something and not like me and/or 2) no one will come and I'll feel like a loser.  I feel their pain!

If I really do this, I want to beg people to come.  I want to lure them to my party with promises that the food will not suck, the party won't be filled with awkward silences as people race to fill out an order form and get the heck out of there, and it won't be lame.  They don't have to buy anything!  They just have to show up to boost my poor self-esteem.

Men should really throw these kinds of parties.  They miss out on all the fun.  Imagine the possibilities!

Screwdrivers with interchangeable handles


Wickless candles that smell manly


Storage containers for the garage that are ridiculously overpriced


Skincare products for men only

Anyone want to come to a jewelry party?

I Only Have Eyes For...Me

I've been taking my nephew to the pool every day this summer.  I'm trying not to cry because I have to go back to work soon and I think I love the pool even more than my three year old nephew.  Each day I wear my sunglasses to swim because the sunlight burns my pale eyes like crazy.

Each day at some point, my nephew jumps off of the top step, flings his arms around my neck, and wants me to take him to the deep end.  When that happens, he puts his face close to mine and he gazes adoringly into my eyes with such love that I melt each and every time.  The look he gives me says it all.  It says...

I love you so much.


Coming to the pool with you every day is so fun.


I feel awesome in this pool, and it's all thanks to you!


I'm going to give my first Olympic gold medal to you, Aunt Non-Mommy, for all that you've done for me.


I love you, I love you, I love you.


Seriously.  The look makes me fall more in love with him every day.  Until, I realized something critical.

He isn't gazing at me adoringly.  He is gazing at his own reflection in my sunglasses!!  He loves seeing what he calls Two Nephews (only he uses his real name) in the lenses.  He's telling himself how much he loves him, and how awesome he is, and that he'll give his Olympic gold medal to himself because he loves himself oh so very much.

Sniff.  Sniff.

My Life Rocks

This is how my day has been:

I woke up, and was lazy.

I took my nephew to the pool, as I do every day during the summer.  I could rhapsodize forever about how much I love the pool.  I love it, love it, love it.

I later put on a very comfy dress that shows more skin than I'm comfortable with, but I'm just staying home, so who cares?  The dress also shows off that I have, for the first time in all of my half-albino life, TAN LINES.  Yes, a miracle has happened.

I laid in my bed, my most favorite place in the world, and read a book that was no literary award winner, but it was an easy read.  The ceiling fan blew air on my shoulders, and it was most pleasant.

I played baseball with my nephew in the house (it's too hot outside!) using a squishy pool ball and a plastic rolling pin.  It was awesome.

I ate a most satisfying dinner in a quiet, calm home while reading the above mentioned easy read.

Summer is awesome.

I never want to work again.  Now, if only I could find that sugar daddy so I don't have to work...

Argh

I went to an outdoor wedding last night.  The bride was a young girl that used to be a part of my life, and I loved her!  She worked in my classroom as a teenager, and I even spent a weekend with her and her siblings while her parents were out of town.

The wedding was lovely, but it was hot.  All was going along smoothly.  The bridesmaids came down the aisle, and then here came the bride, escorted by her father.

BAM.

I started blubbering like an idiot.  I'd like to blame it on the heat, or that this girl is special to me, or that I'm upset because yet another young person from my life is getting married and I am still not.  But it was about my dad.  All I could think about was getting married without my dad, and how hard that will be.  I kept thinking about the fact that some day I will get married to someone who will never even have known my father, and that kills me.  It will be the longest, loneliest walk down that aisle for me, but I wouldn't want any other person to take me down the aisle.  There's only one person that belongs in that spot.

It's been a year and four months.  So much has changed since then.  In pretty much every aspect of my life, I am happier than I was a year and four months ago, which sounds very odd to say because my dad was my world.  But I know that he's happy that I am happy.  It's still very odd to think that I will never see him again.

I dream about him almost every single night.  When I used to dream about him, the dreams would be me looking for him, or talking on the phone to him and not being able to see him, or I'd be sobbing in my dreams and wake up sobbing.  Now, though, I dream about him every night and they are just normal dreams.  I treasure them because I hear his voice and see him again.  I hope they never, ever stop.

Grief is very weird.

And, I miss him.

Have Patience

Traveling isn't always easy, especially with family members. Particularly with short, cranky, old grandmothers. On this particular trip, I have this song in my head the entire time.

I could only find this song with this little puppet show, sorry.

Did any of you ever know Music Machine?

Thank You

He didn't die while in the service, but he died very proud to be a veteran. More importantly, he died being an incredible father, which is a service, to me, more important than anything.

I miss him so much.

Garage Sale Season

The weather is allegedly warmer, even though it's not, and garage sale season is upon us.  The neighborhood is filled with homemade neon signs pointing you toward dusty crap and old women haggling.

Last summer I had a major garage sale.  The experience was, overall, traumatic for me.  I am incapable of pricing items for a garage sale.  Seriously.  I'm one of those people pleasers that make us all nuts.  I don't want to over charge someone!  I don't want to offend them by asking too high of a price!  Here, take it!  For free!  Go!  The last time I had hosted a garage sale, I apparently underpriced things a whole, whole lot.  All these Mexican women were so happy to swoop up all of my loot, with cries of "How cheap!"  And I made like $15.  $15!

Last summer, I was selling most of my things for an upcoming move.  I sold most of my furniture and everything.  I had my sister and nephew come up to help me get things sorted and to help me price, and I found myself completely immobilized.  It wasn't fear of moving.  It wasn't sadness getting rid of my things.  It wasn't having anything to do with the recent loss of my dad.  It was...how much do I charge?!  My sister wrote a blog post about it:


Garage Saling
Yes, I can turn the noun garage sale into a verb, just as easily as I do the word tornado.

Anyway, so as I already mentioned, M and I went to Non-Mommyville to help Non-Mommy prepare for her garage sale.  She is selling almost all of her furniture, which she is finding to be very cathartic.  The problem is, Non-Mommy can't seem to price anything.  I think most people would struggle with pricing correctly, either over or under, but she is having trouble coming up with a number.

It's actually quite hilarious.

I don't want to tell her how much to sell her stuff for, so my advice was to think about what you'd be happy to get for the big ticket items, then ask just slightly over, believing that people at garage sales are generally hagglers.

That tactic didn't work.  I said "just tell me what you were thinking of selling the couch for, and then after you tell me, I'll tell you what I was thinking", but all I got was a "I don't know!". 

Some items were easier than others, like the gas grill.  This is the grill that fell over at our house and broke, then birds nested in it, then my dad cleaned it all up for Non-Mommy, but the ignitor stopped working so you have to throw a match into it and pray you still have your hair afterwards.

After we made a list of all the big items, we went to her piles of smaller stuff to start stickering them with prices.  It's an eclectic group, from what I have seen so far.  There was a nearly brand new photo printer, Princess Diana books (which she thinks someone will buy!), watercolor brushes, a wooden shelf that I'm pretty sure my mom bought for me when I was in fifth grade and various Italian countryside prints.

Every other sentence out of Non-Mommy's mouth was "is that too much?".  Literally, books I started to price at 25 cents each she followed up with "is that too much?"  When I suggested 15 cents for an item, she admonished me for forcing someone to go to the extra mile and find a nickle, on top of a dime!

Seriously, she needs lessons in garage sales.  This thing is going to be a hoot.


I can't deal with hagglers.  Imagine how I coped with all my extended time in Central America.  Not well, people.  Not well.  I can't do it.  (Seriously, I was in a third world country.  Instead of arguing to make the price lower, I wanted to give them my entire savings account.  It's just wrong, haggling!  WRONG!)

Next time I have a garage sale, you're all invited over for a pricing party.

Please.

I'll provide the stickers.

HRH Non-Mommy, Princess of Non-Mommyhood

This week, my little, cranky, quirky (oh boy, you have no idea!) grandmother comes for a visit.  She is basically all that I have in the world of grandparents.  I am actually pretty close to her, even though she's a little...unique.  You can read about one interesting experience I had with her here, or here, or here.

Anyway, I'm going to spend the day with her on Friday and thought we would watch the Royal Wedding together.  I want to make it into a theme party!  There is nothing I love more than a good theme party.  I was thinking tea and sandwiches, and now I need to find some hats or something that looks rather distinguished.  I think my grandma would look so cute wearing a hat or a hair piece.

I did consider making some sort of feather hair piece or something, but I am NOT crafty.  I need ideas, people!  How can I make something that is fairly cheap and easy, and yet looks like this...

or this (WOOF)...

or this...

or even this?

I'm not opposed to finding some sort of cute, dressy hats but the problem is that finding a hat like something that would be worn to a royal occasion requires money.  I know that I could go the thrift store route, but that just gives me the heeby-jeebies.  Lice, here I come!  I did see some interesting hats online.

Is this some sort of satellite dish?  What is the point of wearing a hat on the front of your head?  And also, Princess Eugenie, you appear to be channeling your inner Mennonite.  I'm confused by this outfit.

This is the kind of hat I wear every day to recess because I won't get sunburned in a hat like this.  You know, being half-albino and all.  Apparently if I glued some feathers on it, and sold it for hundreds of dollars, I could be a fashion trailblazer myself!

Cruella DeVille, Cruella DeVille, if she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will.  To see her is to take a sudden chill!  Cruella, Cruella DeVille!

Wow.  I don't know if I should do the Mexican hat dance, or use it as a barf bowl, or maybe even as a cistern?

From "My Fair Lady," Come on Dover, come on Dover, come on Dover, move your bloomin' a$$!


So, as you can see, I think that a hair piece would be a much easier thing to deal with.  Help, crafty internet people!

One Year Later

In the past year, a lot has happened to me.  All the small things seem insignificant compared to the loss of my beloved father.  As the year mark of his passing approaches, I wanted to document a few of my thoughts and feelings.  Going through the grief process is incredibly wild - exhausting, frustrating, uplifting, and blessed all rolled into one.  While my intention for this blog is to remain generally lighthearted, I think it is important to not only document these life changes, but also to help others going through the same thing.  No one grieves in the same way, but maybe something I've experienced can help you.

If you're wanting something less serious, skip this post.  As I write more entries about grief, you will be able to locate them at the top under "Non-Mommy Gets Serious."


It's been a little over a year since I unexpectedly lost my dear father.  I wanted to write about it on the anniversary of his death, but the week of the anniversary of his death was extremely difficult for me.  I think that I cried more that week than I had the past year.


The past year has just been surreal.  It's really odd to understand that someone you love is really and truly gone.  The reality sets in.  If you're walking through a journey of grief, you may be wondering what it is like a year later.


First of all, you cry less.  You still cry, but not as often.  I find that on days where I am very stressed or tired, I think about him more and become emotional.  A year later, you find that little things catch you completely off guard, and sometimes, they will make you cry.  Recently, I was in church and a song my father sang often was played.  I've heard it a thousand times, but I started bawling like a baby (even though in just a few minutes, I would have to go up in front of everyone!).  


I also had an odd experience recently.  I noticed that someone was staring at me.  I had no idea who she was.  She finally approached me, and asked who my parents were.  I told her, and she smiled broadly.  She grew up on a farm near my father and attended a one room school house with him.  She recognized his face in mine.  It was difficult to swallow the lump in my throat.


One year later, I dream about him a lot more.  I remember, vividly, the first time he was in one of my dreams.  I saw him, and I couldn't stop crying because I was so happy to see him.  I didn't tell him that I was crying because he was dead, and he didn't ask.  I just remember sobbing with joy.  Later, I had dreams where I would be speaking to him on the phone and I'd ask him where he was.  He'd never answer, just say "It's three o'clock.  I have to go."  Someone later asked me if 3:00 meant something, but I don't think it does.  Now, a year afterwards, I dream about him fairly regularly, but it's not me searching for him, or crying as much.


I still think that I see him, occasionally, but not often.  This makes me sad in a way, because it's like I am accepting that he's really gone.  It almost makes me feel guilty somehow, but I couldn't tell you why.  Every once in a while, though, I'll see a man that looks like him and I catch my breath.


It is easier to talk about him a year later.  It used to be that talking about him would send me into a very sad state, but now I can speak about him without crying (for the most part - although I am crying typing this).  I still refer to him as alive every now and then, but less than I used to.  Again, this makes me incredibly sad and feel guilty.  


It's been one year and I have about the same amount of desire to visit his grave as I did when he was buried - none.  I don't know why, but I don't really care to go to his grave.  It doesn't feel like I'm visiting him when I am there.  In fact, I think I've been there maybe twice since he passed away.  Sorry, Dad, but you're not there, and I don't really want to hang around your headstone.


I have to take a moment to brag on my mother, too.  My mother has been incredibly strong.  I am so proud of her.  I cannot imagine having to live her life without my dad.  But she is moving forward, finding a path that works for her, and I am daily amazed by her ability to keep going.  If my father were here, he would literally be crying and telling her how very proud of her he is.  Well deserved praise indeed.


A year later, I have found that I have made it.  Even as an adult, I could not possibly imagine how I could live without one of my parents.  Now, I've done it.  It's not perfect, but I made it.  You can't expect everything to be ok.  It will NEVER be the same, and I still have to face a very sad prospect of life without my father.  It is still going to hurt, and you wish that everyone could keep his memory alive forever, but by God's grace, you will make it through. 


A year later and I still would absolutely love to hear his voice one more time.  I'd love to have him hug me so tightly, smelling like soap and toothpaste.  I wish he were here to give me a hard time about owning a Mac, or about how messy my car is, or telling me corny jokes.  One year down, how many more to go?


(I'm listening to this song very, very often right now.  Reminds me of him.  About three minutes in, it really gets to me.)

Happy Birthday, Buddy

Dear Former Baby,

Three years ago tonight, you were born.  It was a cold and rainy night, and, typical of your personality, even your birth was on your own terms and rather long and drawn out.  Late that night, your hot uncle (Hunkle, I like to call him) and I went into the nursery with your mom and dad to meet you.  You were so cute.  Just a little blonde squishy ball.  You also looked just like your grandpa.  I had no idea that night how much you would change our lives.

Aunt Non-Mommy, why are you taking pictures of me at 3 a.m.?

I will admit it.  I was upset when I heard that you were coming.  It wasn't you that I was upset about.  I was upset that it wasn't me having the baby.  Being single and childless hasn't been easy on your old aunt.  But then I saw you and my heart melted - that is WHEN I could get my hands on you.  Your grandparents liked to hog you!

When you were born, I was very busy in grad school.  I was working full time, completing a full time internship, and taking night classes.  My time was very limited.  Your parents were very tired, so I offered to spend the night and take the night shift with you a few times.  You were such a sweet boy.  You didn't cry much.  You were wide awake all through the night.  We spent hours upon hours just staring at one another.  With you snuggled on my chest, making those precious baby noises, I fell completely in love with you.  Those nights together are very special to me.

As you have grown, you have developed such a fun personality.  Being an aunt has been so much fun!  I love drawing and writing with you.  You are completely obsessed with swimming pools.  That makes me so happy!  When you were an infant, I used to make you practice your swim strokes.  I look forward to years of going to the pool together.  I like to wrestle with you and teach you things that are slightly naughty.

Former Baby, in your very short time, you have been through quite a bit.  When your grandpa passed away unexpectedly, it rocked all of our worlds.  Your grandfather was completely crazy about you.  You were such a joy to him in his last two years here on earth.  When he passed away, everything changed.  It made us so sad when you wandered around the house looking for your grandpa.  Yet, even in the midst of such turmoil and chaos, you helped keep us all going.  You kept us laughing and gave us hope.

Recently, you were playing in my house when you suddenly stopped and said (completely out of the blue) "Where is Grandpa?"  It has been a year since he passed away, and you are so little.  I was completely taken aback, but I simply looked at you and said "He's in Heaven."  You were satisfied, and went back to playing.  Where did that question come from?  It makes me very sad to know that you will never remember him, so I want you to know how very much he loved you.  You were his special boy.

Life with you is so precious and fun.  I never dreamed that I'd have a nephew that I would see so often, and be able to do things with all of the time.  The time we spend together is very important to me.  Some day, you will be taller than me.  You will be too old for me to hug and kiss all of the time.  You won't want to go swimming with me.  You won't want to sit down and play.  But I hope you know that I will always be there for you, whether you like it or not.

Stick with me, kid.  We'll always be a team.

Happy birthday.

I Am the Best Aunt, Ever

I've had the week off of work.  I've been spending each day with my adorable, giant nephew.  I always want to call him "The Baby," but the reality is that he will be three next week.  He also is wearing Depends sized diapers, he's just that big.  So, I knew the big Potty Training Bootcamp was approaching, and what else would an aunt want to do on her week off besides step in her nephew's urine and scrape off poop?  I've been helping teach the Former Baby basic potty skills, and overall it's been going very well.  However, the other morning, I sent this email to my sister, the Former Baby's mother:

"The Day Thus Far"

9:05 - Arrive to the pool for little splashers.  Today he jumped around like a maniac, he was thrilled.  He also was jumping like a kangaroo in the shallow water, slipped, and fell entirely into the pool.  Aunt Non-Mommy  yanked him up, he wiped off his eyes, coughed, and said "Again?"  But then he wouldn't go back under the water.  He did, however, ask Aunt Non-Mommy to go under water about 700 times.

10:00 - Leave the pool.  Former Baby is belting out his favorite tunes.

10:15 - Get all dressed.  Put on undies.  Aunt Non-Mommy begins to dress. 

10:16 - Pee all over his new clothes [Former Baby, not Non-Mommy].

10:17 - Aunt Non-Mommy puts on a diaper, has no pants to put him in, so he leaves the gym wearing just a t-shirt, diaper, and shoes.

10:19 - Former Baby runs around the outside of the gym, laughing hysterically, having a good time.  Aunt Non-Mommy is mortified that he is only wearing a diaper and keeps yelling loudly so people would know "Come on, we have to go home to get some new pants!" 

10:21 - Aunt Non-Mommy thinks Former Baby looks excessively pale and white trash in just a diaper, so she drags him away.

10:23 - Stop at Sonic for a drink.

10:33 - Pull up to the house and notice that the car seat is completely wet.  Uh oh.

10:35 - Take the kid out to find that the diaper is OVERFLOWING with urine.  Apparently he never peed while in the pool.

11:15 - Eat lunch.  Aunt Non-Mommy teaches Former Baby to tell his grandma that she sounds like a dead cow.

11:45 - Aunt Non-Mommy cleans up the kitchen.  Former Baby plays the piano.

11:46 - Former Baby comes running out of the piano room holding his crotch.  He had peed on the piano bench.  But hey, he stopped what he was doing, so we call this a victory!  Former Baby pees quite a bit in the potty and is very proud of himself.

12:00 - Aunt Non-Mommy resumes cleaning the kitchen.  Former Baby works on the piano again.

12:01 - Former Baby has gone strangely silent.  Aunt Non-Mommy walks in to see that Former Baby has apparently grown a new appendage on his bottom.

12:01:30 - Former Baby immediately begins crying before Aunt Non-Mommy says a word, because he knows he pooped.

12:02 - Former Baby and Aunt Non-Mommy go to the bathroom and knock the large grapefruit sized poop into the toilet. 

12:03 - Former Baby says he needs to go again.  He sits and strains and strains and strains.  He poops out something the size of a green bean, and pees.  Victory!

12:04 - Former Baby sees that he has smeared poop ALL over the potty seat and freaks out. 

12:04:30 - Former Baby sees that he has poop on his socks.  He sits down on the floor to take off the offending socks.

12:06 - Former Baby stands up, and now sees that he has smeared poop all over the carpet, and freaks out more.

12:07- Aunt Non-Mommy keeps trying to reassure him that all is well, it's ok, but he's not convinced.

12:07:30 - Grandma comes back in, Aunt Non-Mommy sends out an SOS

12:08 - Grandma puts a diaper on Former Baby, Aunt Non-Mommy begins to clean up PoopFest 2011.

12:15 - Former Baby goes down for a nap, proud of himself for pooping. 

12:18 - Aunt Non-Mommy emails an update to Former Baby's mother and changes her socks.  You don't want to know.

I am not getting paid enough for this gig.  For sure.  Good thing he's cute.

The cat, er, camera, is out of the bag

My sister, the budding photographer, had a big birthday coming up.  She was positively dreading it, so I knew we had to go big, or go home!  I decided to get her a fancy, cute camera bag that doesn't necessarily look like a camera bag.



I agonized over this purchase.  I mean, a) they aren't cheap b) I didn't know if she wants one that will hold only her camera, or one that holds her laptop and her camera, and c) my sister is what the french call

LE FUDDY DUDDY.




I mean, if it were up to me, it'd be either the red Lola, or the turquoise Clover.  No problem.  But my sister?  She's deathly afraid of color!  She might as well be Mennonite.  That might be a slight exaggeration.  Anyway, I had to pick one that my sister would actually go out in public with.




A few months ago, the bag came.



My friends, this baby is HOT.  Waiting for months to give it to her was torture.  It is Fuddy Duddy, yes, but it's also shockingly cute for its slightly old lady undertones.  And much bigger than my crappy photos can show.



Anyway, I am CLEARLY no photographer, but I'm ready to get a camera just so I have an excuse to have a camera bag like this:



or this:



The special day finally came, and it was only rained on slightly by the fact that my brother in law got her a purse that is even cuter.  But, you know, can that purse hold a camera and a laptop?  I think not!

It was fun to shop for this.  I highly recommend Epiphanie.  They aren't paying me to say this, I just want you to know - the bag is adorable, it came very quickly, and hopefully it will hold up well!

Things That Helped

In the past year, a lot has happened to me.  All the small things seem insignificant compared to the loss of my beloved father.  As the year mark of his passing approaches, I wanted to document a few of my thoughts and feelings.  Going through the grief process is incredibly wild - exhausting, frustrating, uplifting, and blessed all rolled into one.  While my intention for this blog is to remain generally lighthearted, I think it is important to not only document these life changes, but also to help others going through the same thing.  No one grieves in the same way, but maybe something I've experienced can help you.

If you're wanting something less serious, skip this post.  As I write more entries about grief, you will be able to locate them at the top under "Non-Mommy Gets Serious."


The unexpected death of my father was really a culminating activity of my very own "annus horribilius."  If I told you everything that happened, you'd think I was lying.  So not only was I reeling from the death of my father, with whom I was very close, but I was also challenged both physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  Nothing can make grief, or life suckiness, go completely away.  However, a few things really helped me keep going, or lifted my spirits.  Here are some of my "must haves" for going through a rough time.


1.  Ann Taylor Loft

I don't know what came over me.  Truly.  One minute, I was a hesitant, cheap shopper.  The next moment I'm burying my dad and burning through my future children's inheritance one sparkly shirt at a time.  Truly.  OK, I didn't turn into a total spend-a-holic, but man oh man, did I ever replace like my entire wardrobe with clothing that really pushes my public educator budget.  But you know what?  It made me feel good, and gave me a little extra confidence.  I never spent more than I had, and dang, I looked good, too!


2.  Phil Wickham

I had never even heard of Phil Wickham before my dad died.  I was sitting in church and this most incredible song was performed.  My mother and I were together, and we both cried.  I immediately went and looked up this album and was it ever worth the money.  Seriously.  This is a Christian artist who has an entire album devoted to Heaven.  It is completely inspiring, gorgeous, and therapeutic.  This would be a great gift for someone that is grieving.


3.  Steven Curtis Chapman

While I'd never been a huge fan of his music, I was aware of Steven Curtis Chapman.  More specifically, I was very aware of his work assisting families in adoption.  I was also aware that a few years ago his daughter Maria was killed in a tragic accident in their driveway.  When an opportunity arose to see Steven Curtis Chapman in person, I went because I'm a celeb-a-holic.  I was completely amazed at the ministry that he and his wife have created to help people deal with grief.  It was awesome.  I also purchased his album.  While I'm not crazy about all of the songs, I have listened to "Spring is Coming" about a bajillion times, as well as "Beauty Will Rise" and "Yours."  Very helpful.


4.  Boxes of Trader Joe's goodies.

I'm a huge fan of Trader Joe's, but there is not one close to my house (HINT HINT, TRADER JOE'S!).  A very dear friend has taken some time to randomly mail me boxes of Trader Joe's goodness.  Somehow, these packages always come just when I am needing a lift, and the fun of pulling out boxes of weird (yet wonderful!) items that I can't get is more fun than Christmas.


5.  Lots of time in the sun and swimming.

As a former Albino (just kidding), I avoid the sun as much as possible.  I want to love the sun, but the sun won't love me back.  This means that I typically am extremely well covered when outdoors.  This summer, however, I spent a lot of time outside in the pool.  I'm very self-conscious, and don't want to blind anyone with my pasty whiteness, but I truly believe that being in the sun was VERY good for me.  Being in the pool and getting regular sunshine "healed" me faster than anything else could.  I truly believe that.  This summer, I plan to take out stock in the sunscreen industry.  Who knows, I could become a billionaire!


6.  Lots of time with a two year old

I am so fortunate that my job gives me summer breaks.  This summer, I was fortunate enough to spend a tremendous amount of time with my two year old nephew, Former Baby.  Being with a child is beyond therapeutic.  When I needed a hug or a cuddle, there was a little blonde guy to do it.  When I needed to laugh, the little blonde guy was there to crack me up.  His presence allowed me to slow down and just be.


8.  Just saying "NO!"

I am an extreme people pleaser.  I will typically do whatever anyone wants, so long as they are happy.  This isn't very healthy for me, but it's something I struggle with.  After my dad died, I felt much better about saying no to things.  It's good for others to step up to the plate at work, and it's good for my own personal needs as well.  Saying no helped me realize that not everything will crash down if I don't do it myself.


9.  Making a book on Blurb.

I knew that I wanted to make something special in honor of my father, so I decided to make a book about his life.  This began a very lengthy project involving scanning about a billion pictures and creating a book that took on a life of its own.  I knew that I wanted to make one for my mother and sister, and I wanted to do it well.  In the end, the book became quite large and costly, but it was worth every single penny.  Making that book, putting down family memories on paper, and celebrating the life of my wonderful father was awesome.  I can't put into words how much fun I had with this.  I was sad when it was done (and sad I'd made it so big that I couldn't afford to send copies to everyone he knew!).  


10.  Spending lots of time with family.

After my father's passing, all I wanted to do was be with my mother and sister.  In fact, I went back to my parents' house every weekend after he died for four months.  It was just a safe and comfortable place to be.  It was really hard to explain to people that I felt like I needed to "withdraw" in a sense and just be with my family, but it was (and still is, to some extent) what I needed to do.  It may not make sense, but that's what needed to happen.  The cool thing about being together is that we all fall apart at different times, and are there to clean up after one another.  His death has brought us all closer, and I know he'd be pleased.