Wednesday, April 22, 2009


I should really take this opportunity to talk about my new job and how happily surprised I am with it or maybe I should complain about how long this finishing building a house business is taking, but instead I have urgent and important news.

We cut Jamie's hair.

Poor James. Born with a hair growth pattern that most closely resembles that one Stooge, or perhaps a mad scientist, and as most often commented by others “just like an old man's”. Yes, it is true. It has hardly grown at all on the top and just grown OUT from the back and the sides in a wild curly mane that brings to mind electric shock therapy. When just bathed it is soft curls and I know, gag, boys with curls, but on my baby it was the most beautiful thing on earth. But then it kept growing and finally I realized that it was starting to resemble a mullet and you know what? I already live in a country ass mountain town and I really don't need to add “mullet” to the list of things that I currently have to endure. So I pulled out the scissors and we went outside and I attempted my first little boy's haircut. It didn't turn out as bad as I thought it would, especially when James took off and I had to chase my 18 month old around the yard with scissors in my hands. I know. I should write a child safety manual.

Before picture. See? Mullet. Yikes.

I'm a total hick. I cut my half-naked son's hair on the porch. Realizing I have reached a new low.

It's a little long on top, but that's only because I thought the child should experience longer hair on top like most normal children.

He seems rather taken with it.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Something Good

I would like to take a moment from my whooping and cartwheeling to say that I have finally, FINALLY, been hired at a small company here in town. It's run out of a little old brick house and the front room will be my office, oh happy day, I have an office again! I've already been making mental plans to bring in a little potted plant to sit on my desk next to the window, and wondering which pictures of the kids I want to frame and bring in.

Oh, I know, it's not all about decorating my desk. It's also about paychecks! MONEY! We'll be able to pay our mortgage on the big, beautiful house that we're building!

Can you tell I'm in a good mood?

I start work tomorrow. We don't exactly have all the kinks worked out with the whole “who's going to keep the kids” thing, so that will be, um, fun. It won't be a problem until next week and hopefully we'll have something worked out by then. So today I plan on doing fun things with the kids, things out of the ordinary like making the drive to a larger town, one that has a movie theater and department store. I'm feeling brave, like I can take two small children out into the world and not feel overwhelmed. Ah, the sweet surge of optimism that comes with a job offer!

Friday, April 3, 2009

Something Bad

My sister-in-law had come by to pick up her phone charger. She ended up staying for awhile, talking about her pregnancy and I was offering, as usual, everything I had so that she could make preparations for her future daughter. I like pregnancy talk. We sat here for awhile.

She stood up to leave and looked out the open front door, through the screen door, at the driveway and announced that Angie, my cousin-in-law (but also a very close friend), was pulling up. Strange, I thought, that she would be coming here at this time.

My sister-in-law was asking what was wrong before I even saw Angie's face. Angie was sobbing and shaking, distraught, obviously, asking if we could keep her son because someone was dead in her driveway. I said of course, trying to register what was being said, while trying to seem calm. She left and my sister-in-law sat back down to absorb the news.

Jeff called a few minutes later. He was with his father, who was the first person Angie called after 911, and they had gone over and discovered it was a woman, sitting in the driver's seat of her locked car, still dripping blood from her nose and mouth as they peered through the tinted windows.

Angie and her son, who had gotten off early from school, had returned home from doing a few errands. She started to pull into her very long driveway and saw a car parked ahead of her. Thinking it was someone lost and needing to turn around she waited for a moment, and then awhile longer trying to figure out what they were doing. She eventually got out of her car and walked up to the stranger to ask them to leave when she saw . . . what she saw. It was horrible, disturbing to say the least, and she promptly freaked out and called 911. Then my father-in-law, before driving over here.

“Thank goodness you have a lot of family around here,” I told her later that night, trying to say something optimistic about the whole sad story.

Why her driveway, we wondered? It is up the hill and behind where we live, a little to the side. It is a driveway used by three people, a house out of sight, but a lived in one nonetheless. Who was this woman? Did she know them, any of us?

Later we learned it was a neighbor who lived a mile or so down the road. She was on her way, supposedly, to pick up her 12 year old son from school. She had a three week old baby at home. My first thought on hearing this was “postpartum depression”, simple as that. Things suddenly made sense. I tried to tell my father-in-law, who looked at me skeptically, that this was something very serious for some women.

Angie came over here tonight and we talked for a bit. What she saw today is something no one should ever see. We talked about the selfishness of suicide, about people we've known hurt by it. Angie, who is a seasoned gore addict, is already haunted by the images, and I can't get the family out of my head.

I don't know the lesson we're supposed to learn by these things. Why did that happen when it did, where it did, why it did? I suppose it's just important to remember that they do happen.

Vacation and Back

I once had a friend in high school who was secretly called the one-date wonder by another one of our friends. I use the word “friend” very loosely here. She was very pretty and funny, innocent and wild at the same time, the type of girl that guys usually start drooling over. However, every time she went on a date it ended strangely with the boy never asking her out again. Since she was full of back-handed compliments and seemingly harmless biting remarks to us, we got a secret thrill out of her misery. I know, I know. I don't feel the same way NOW of course, but back then it was a little glee I received, seeing how things really did come back around.

So it was with grim realization that I now realize that I am the one-interview wonder. Or in one case it was the two-interview wonder. I send out countless resumes, get the exciting call to come in to interview, dress to the nines, speak all sorts of fancy talk, and then . . . nothing. Sometimes there is the call back, which is like a punch to the gut, and sometimes they don't even bother to let me know they've chosen someone else. I'm trying to laugh about it, but suffice to say that I am becoming very discouraged.


Happier days were just had by Jeff and me. We went down to Tybee for five days. Yes, FIVE DAYS. I cried the last morning when we started to make our way home. We called the house to let my sister-in-law know that we were en-route and she put Faith on the phone. Her little voice saying “I love you. I miss you.” was just too much. I wished that we could tele-port ourselves home.

While we were there, though, it was unbelievable. We watched movies without interruption, ate out constantly, walked on the slightly chilly beaches, and enjoyed ourselves completely. Except for the whole no kids thing. It ate away at me a little. A little.


I'm back now, back to reality, where the ocean doesn't lie right around the corner, back to where there is a shortage of jobs, a house that seems to take forever to get built, and many extra pounds from all that eating out.

I know this is going to sound silly – but when I walked back through the door and the kids both threw themselves at me . . . well, that was the best part of the vacation.