Write this down

It is no secret to my friends that it would totally freakin' rock if we could all join comedic forces and write a novel that would be turned into a major motion picture. We would base a fictitious story with real life and sometimes embarrassing experiences.

This week has been full of interesting quotes. Here's just a few ditties to chew on:

"I need sex so bad I can't stand it, but not enough to have sex with my ex husband."

After a lengthy conversation on how and when Edward turned Bella into a vampire, "I can't believe we are talking about this. Can we go back to talking about sex or something."

"Mary Kay ladies are the Jehovah witnesses of make-up."

"He's a nice guy, but I think he smokes the pot."

"Her email address on her resume is 'dashowstoppa'. What show is she stoppin' anyway? Good God, and yahoo is free."

"I saw a woman in hot pink hot pants and a toddler tee shirt that had hot momma bedazzled on the front. I felt like a construction worker staring at her. I almost ran into the person in front of me."

"That is a biggest mullet I have ever seen on a woman."

"Don't you cross your eyes at me. If I smack you on the back of your head your eyes can stick that way. Didn't your momma ever tell you that."

"Do you see that over there? (referring to a gentleman with a white man's afro) It looks like a topiary. I want to decorate it and put it on my front porch. Maybe a magnolia bloom or something seasonal for Christmas."

"You are going to hell. Well, you are going to be right there with me."

Dominican Blues

Golf husband and I planned a vacation. A real vacation with white sand, clear waters, a pool that was more like a lazy river, drinks with tropical fruit and little umbrellas. The passport was obtained, tickets bought, and childcare arranged only to have the trip cancelled five days before we were to fly off into paradise.

Sigh...

Choco-nom nom Oprah...

The other night I happened to come across an episode of Oprah where her whole set was made of Godiva Chocolate. It was an interesting 5 minutes of my time to watch how they made the walls, chandelier, and everything down to the logs in the chocolate fireplace to the chairs.

Don't get me wrong it was interesting and all, but I couldn't help noticing Oprah's demeanor. It was like bringing an alcoholic into a liquor store. Her eyes were glossy, pupils dilated, and she was gitty about how after they were done taping she and her audience were going to eat it. She was interviewing the "designers" and had to interrupt them speaking with comments like "it smells so good."

I wish that they would flash back to all the past footage to like the skinny Oprah wheeling out the little red wagon of fat. Really Oprah? You want to do that to yourself? Gorge yourself on all the rich chocolate?

She knows she not going to share and perhaps that's wherein lies my problem.

I'm also not a fan of whoever dressed Oprah that show. I mean, do you have make her match the chocolate?

TWSS

It is say to say that I and those around me like stupid humor. It makes life richer like adding Hershey's chocolate syrup to your ice cream or simply squeezing a shot into your mouth when you were looking for ingredients for dinner. Lately, our (or maybe just mine) humor is taking on a 9th grade level of maturity or immaturity.

So, I dedicate this post to Steve Carell from The Office for allowing us to laugh at normal everyday innocent comments and spin them into perversion by responding with "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID."

These are a few that were told or occurred today.

1. I was meeting with some men about getting spray foam put into the attic of my house and they were explaining that their competitors were cheating on the foam. "They are only spraying in 3 inches. We do 5 inches." TWSS! (I said it on the inside. My cheeks hurt as I fought the initial spasm of a smile trying to escape onto my face.)

2. A friend was helping her very aggravated boyfriend with docking the boat and he yelled to her to grab the pole and pull. TWSS! She then asked him what it was like to date a women with the mind of a man.

3. I was getting a cup of coffee at my favorite local coffee shop. The owner loves stupid humor too. His coffee selections are foreign selections such as Kenyan and Sumatra. The vanilla syrup I like to use I typically call "sweet." Today I asked for a medium, sweet Asian. He started giggling, so to make things more interesting I added, "leave room for cream." TWSS! He had to compose himself before pouring anything into the cup.

And then there was silence and me breaking the silence

I am alive. I promise I have not fallen off a cliff, but have been waiting for a moment to scratch my ass. Another road block was the failure for my airport to work, which is Mac for wireless internet. Yes, the laziness won and the lack of being able to lay in bed, watch television, and blog among my mothering my three year old motor mouth and my giant-sized 6 month old prevented me for writing about any old thing.

For instance I could have told you about the time my son decided that he was afraid of the potty and had soiled his last pair of clean underwear and there were no more Pull Ups to be found in the house. I gathered his clothes into the washing machine after putting him in one of Olivia's diapers. (Yes she is THAT big.) As I went to close the washer door my frustration put a little too much umph into my effort thus damaging my washing machine. That'll teach me to clean angry.

That's really all I can muster for now. I must be up in a few hours to tend to my giant baby girl, but for now scrrr-ATCH!

Olivia Finley Stock: The birth story

The day I went into labor, I arrived at work and snatched nail polish off Ashley's desk, some instinctively told me to paint my toe nails. For the past week, I just wasn't feeling well. It probably didn't help that I cut up about 100 onions and peppers in 100 degree heat for a neighborhood event with work the week before or going to the car wash and vacuuming out my car with my gigantic belly. You could say that this burst of energy was me forcing my body to move around and get the baby out. Needless to say, I was also mentally preparing reluctantly telling my due date "September 14th, but I'm aiming for the end of August." Ha! If you want it badly enough and focus your energy hard enough, then what you want can happen.

So back to the labor story, I noticed the tightening of my belly was pretty regular, but my water broke during my first pregnancy, so I was unsure as to whether or not these were practice contractions or the real deal. Just to be sure, I made out a list of my job responsibilities and told my boss, "I may not be here tomorrow." His reply was a deer in headlights stair and then an "okay."

Later that evening, I decided to write down the times of the contractions. They were consistently 7 to 10 minutes apart. I really didn't want to be the girl that goes to the hospital and gets sent home. I also did not want to have the baby in the middle of the night and have no babysitter. We ate dinner, pizza, my dad came over, and then we were off to the hospital. Good thing I pre registered last Friday. 

At the hospital, the nurse hooked me up to the monitor and observed me for about an hour. They decided to keep me over night and the next day they started pitocin and Olivia entered into the world just before 2 o'clock.

My doctor is great. Just as Olivia's head was out I heard, "this baby is a moose." This from the same woman who diagnosed my swelling as "cankles." I suppose she was a bit of a moose. She was almost three weeks early and weighed 8lbs and 1oz. Funny, the guy cleaning her up said she was already rooting. Just like her mother, this girl likes to eat.

As I gazed at my daughter, the bonding falling in love moment was interrupted by, "there is a bit of a tear." AUGH! For the love of God, this was the fear that I had most going into this thing. I had a 4 degree tear with Boden, which took a long time to heal and had some further effects that I care not to describe. 

My head snapped off the team of the guy who was cleaning her up and my mom and Ashley who gathered around the baby. "What degree!?"

"It is another four degree." She said solemnly knowing that the news would be crushing to me.

"When can we set up some time to fix it? Do I get all of it done after six weeks?"

"I'm going to try to fix it now." 

The bonding moment that I had really didn't come until we were able to spend our first night together. In the quiet darkness, we bonded. How could you not bond with a baby who comes out smiling?

Matt 3/28/75 - 8/18/05

This is a picture of my brother Matt and I his very last Christmas with us. He is smiling. For Matt, that was a smile.

There are things in life that we just can never fully understand. My brother took his life four years ago. He suffered from depression. It would be easier to take I suppose if he were to have died from cancer or by a car accident, but to know that it was his decision to leave was selfish, sad, and confusing. I am writing about him not to justify his decision, but to provide some understand about what happened and to truly celebrate all that he was as a person.

I remember almost every detail of the day I found out that I lost my brother from what I was wearing to the rush of emotions. I remember the details of the next few days following his death up until his burial. These are emotions that still pop up randomly. It is not easy to pick up the scattered pieces of thoughts of how to understand, how to comfort my family, or how to heal. 

Never once have I thought that anyone who takes their own life goes to hell. I think that sometimes there are people who are not strong enough for this world and God sometimes is better at taking care of them. This thought came to me before the first viewing. I had spent that morning at my mother's house and had to go home to get ready to go to the funeral home.

I was emotionally drained. Having cried until exhaustion, I road in the truck emotionless like a zombie. I did not want to see Matt. I did not want to be an only child. How was I supposed to be the only one now to comfort our parents that he decided to leave? I sat there with these thoughts rolling through my head and just felt empty. Then I felt a warmth within me that I can only describe as God. It was the only thing that filled me and then the thought that came to me was the most comforting of all. It was this little thought that made so much sense. "I've got him and he is happy." Hokey, I know. The whole they are better off with God thing... extremely cliche. However, I cannot explain the physical filling before the thought ever popped into my consciousness. 

This gave me the energy to go to the viewing. Yes, Matt did not mess up his face and I think it was so his mother could see him. I remember being the first person to see my brother. Him in a casket and me broken by the sight. This body that laid there was not Matt. It was an empty shell who once housed my brother. My brother was a big boy. He was six feet tall and just this stocky broad shouldered guy. He sometimes seemed awkward with his body and laying there his shoulders almost touching each side of the casket he still looked uncomfortable.

Shortly after some time had passed an old friend walked through the door. A girl that had been my best friend in 5th grade. Another friend, a guy who experienced much tragedy in high school losing his sister and girlfriend in auto accidents showed up shortly after. As time went by, the room filled with friends of Matt's and mine most of which I had not seen since high school. It was hard to remain in my sorrow with so many people touching my heart with their love and support for Matt and my family. It was then that I realized how important it was to show up to these viewings. It was so comforting in a way that I could not describe. It made me so happy for Matt and sad all at one time. Happy that he was so loved and sad that it couldn't keep him here. I felt guilty about smiling his friends and I felt more so like I needed to comfort them than the other way around. Just the presence of all those people meant more to me than anything. I don't know how I found joy in such a heartbreaking moment, but again I think think this was God doing his work.

Matt always had the best sense of humor. We found a little bit of humor with all his friends and the ladies. Wow, my brother had more ex girlfriends than I cared to remember while he was living. It reminded my mother and I how much Matt could love... not just sexually. We found out all kinds of sweet things that he did for girls: singing to them, love letters, etc. A romanic, who knew he had it in him. 

Matt suffered from depression since he was about 15 years old and lived with severe suicidal thoughts for 15 years. From the onset of depression, he withdrew socially from his family. He was not the type of person you would assume would be consumed by these thoughts if you knew him as a friend, but he did not socialize with his family. It was painful to have a brother and not have a normal sibling type of relationship that I saw going to friend's houses. It was even more painful to watch my parents struggle. I believe he hid his feelings extremely well from his friends. In high school, he was on the rowing team and won many regattas. He surprisingly had a leading role in a school play. He even lip-synced a la Ferris Bueller's Danke Schoen during a pep rally. All of which shocked us, because we were used to him being extremely introverted.

I grew to understand his silence. He loved me, but always kept me at arms reach. Matter of fact, I think he allowed me to be the closest to him toward the end. It is my belief that if we grew close, he would tell me too much or it would make him too attached to do to himself what he wished to do. 

We would find out more and more stuff about Matt that really made us proud of him and sad that he never realized how much of a great guy he was and how much he had to offer life in general. Weeks after Matt's death I went and visited some work colleagues. One lady had a really serious look on her face, "I need to tell you something about your brother." Huh? How would she know Matt and how do I prevent myself from crying before she says what she needs to tell me. "I want to let you know that your brother saved my fathers life. My father was having dinner, he choked, and your brother was the only one who performed the Heimlich Maneuver on my father." Usually, someone would be excited to save a life or talk later about the dramatic event. Matt hid any act that could possibly be a positive, but he was also extremely humble about what he did for other people. He had once taken the time to pick up this blind guy and take him across the highway to where he was going. 

Goodbyes have always been hard for me. I still find it extremely difficult to visit his grave. One, because I know he is not there and two, because I knew his final wishes before we found a note with his final burial wishes and he would be so pissed that he was in a graveyard. All I can think of is bringing a bottle of Crown, with the bag, and pouring some for my homey... I'm sure he would laugh. I know I will see my brother again. I see him in the good humor of my son as well as random thoughts and memories, but I will see him when I go. So, Matt this is not the end for us, but I will see you later. I celebrate your mean brotherly ways and forgive you for beating me up, your kindheartedness that you tried to hide, your great sense of humor which I miss dearly, and I'm sure I get some more stories from your friends who are now not scared to talk to me, because you can't kick their asses. I love you and I'll see your stupid ass later.