In 57 words or less … OR with just a simple picture … tell us about your favorite mustachioed man.
Well, on my blog I mention my husband from time to time, but I don’t really go into detail about him. Well, here it goes, the man himself, Steve.
Auditioning for GQ (j/k) This is where my daughter gets her haminess from.
We have been together for a little over 10 years. He is my rock when I’m freaking out (about 95% of the time). My comedy relief when I want to cry and an amazing, silly dad for Em. It hasn’t always been perfect, but it’s enough for me. (cue the Awe)
When I was 9 I learned about death. My Papa passed away after being in the hospital for a few months. Never before had I experienced such a thing and my family isn’t the type of family to sit down and talk about certain subjects (basically anything that is a touchy subject). So when my Papa passed away, of course I was upset, but I didn’t fully understand what had happened. Of course I figured it out and then I was terrified. As a matter of fact just thinking about it still terrifies me. I have my own beliefs and I do pray (probably not as much as I should, but I do it), but my family wasn’t big on going to church, in fact I don’t really have a dedicated religion I answer to. Like I said, I have my own beliefs.
The beginning of the week I took my mom to the cemetery to place some flowers on her father’s (my Papa) mother’s (my Nanie) and sister’s (my Aunt) grave. Since I am a stay-at-home mom right now, I dragged my 4 year old along with me. She has never been to the cemetery before nor have I had any kind of talk with her on the subject.
When we got there, while I was arranging the flowers, she looked around and asked my mom “So where is your mom and dad?” And so it begins. My mom and I looked at each other, kinda hoping the other one would speak. My mom took a deep breath and said “Down there in the ground honey.” Poor Emily’s eyes widened, and at first she was sort of speechless, which believe me for her is a BIG deal, and she finally said “How can they be down there?”
I held her hand, thinking of how I could delicately explain this to her. “It’s just their body love. Inside all of us there is a spirit and when we pass away God takes our spirit and takes care of us.” I knew she knew about God because of preschool, so I knew I had said at least one thing she may understand. She was quiet most of the rest of the time there. I asked her if she wanted to say goodbye when we left and she said no, which I totally understand. It’s a lot for a 4 year old to comprehend. Heck, I’m 33 and I’m not quite sure I understand.
She didn’t really ask any questions until way later in the night. The husband was at school, so it was just she and I sitting on the couch in our jammies, watching TV when she speaks up “Mommy, I’m scared.”
I look into her little brown eyes, “Why honey?”
“Because, the cemetery is scary,” tears start to form in her eyes. “I’m scared you are going to die.”
I felt my heart sink. I terrified my child. What do you say to something like that? I can’t promise her anything, obviously, but I don’t want to bring up the whole subject again because it truly scared her. All I could muster while I was trying to calm her down was “Don’t think about it. It will be okay.”
She cried for a good 15-20 minutes. When she finally went to sleep and after the husband got home, I explained what had happened. He knew that I was taking her with me, but up until night time she was okay. He looked at me with that “probably shouldn’t have done that” look.
It’s been about 5 days and she still gets upset about it, mostly at night, and she hugs me and cries for a little bit. I forget that she can understand more than what I give her credit for; she’s a smart cookie.
What have I done? Why did I do that to her? I can’t say that she’ll get over it because, in all honesty, I get anxiety over it, even with some experiences I have had (which can wait until a future post). Have any of you experienced the same? What would you tell your children?
In 57 words or less, tell us about your DUMBEST INJURY ever.
Sorry, but this story requires more than 57 words, with illustrations.
Not the proudest moment of my life thus far and after the incident, to this day no one knows the REAL truth as to how it happened. Thankfully none of these people read this post, so they never will know the real truth. (If my husband knew what really happened I would NEVER live it down, NEVER!)
It was 2006, a few months before my wedding, and I was obsessed with So You Think You Can Dance. At the time my then fiance and I were living in an apartment in Hayward, CA. I use to dance up to the age of 13, then I was a cheerleader for 3 years in high school. Dancing was a huge part of my adolescent life, so when So You Think You Can Dance was on TV of course I was going to watch. My guy was watching the show with me and he got up to go to the bathroom. Since he was gone now was my chance to see if “I still had it” (dance-wise). I did a scissor type jump kick and broke my toe. How did I break my toe you ask? I drew a few pictures to demonstrate. (These aren’t the best of pics, but you should get the point)
If my pictures aren’t clear enough, here is the explanation. There was a corner of the island in our living-room/kitchen. My pinky toe went on one side of the wall while the other toes decided to take a different direction. Ironically it wasn’t the pinky toe that broke, it was the one next to it. So many cuss words flew out of my mouth that I’m pretty sure I invented some new ones. To this day, my poor toe doesn’t look like the others. It’s my “special” toe.