Please Don't Go Girl

My brother Pat and I kinda had a love/hate relationship going on when we were younger. It ranged from him randomly throwing tennis balls at my face to give me bloody noses and me getting fed up with it so I hit over the head with a cabbage patch kid, to if any of his friends made fun of me or upset me in any way, he would make it known very quickly that that wasn't allowed.

One of my fondest memories is when for my 9th birthday, he surprised me and lip-synced "Please Don't Go Girl" by New Kids on the Block. I can't think of very many 12 year old boys who would want to do that for his little sister on her birthday. This memory was brought up once again at his wedding when he surprised me again and had it played so we could dance to it. (Incest as it may seem. It was really sweet and meant a lot:).



There were many days growing up that we had no friends over to play, we only had each other. So we would spend these days building forts out of couch cushions and running around the yard playing Dr. Who. (My dad and the influences he brought upon us:).

At Christmas time, it was tradition for us to set up a little "movie theater" in the living room (which consisted of my dolls and stuffed animals sitting in little chairs) and watch Christmas shows and movies for hours and hours on end.

He came to all of my dance recitals and I went to all of his baseball games. And though it was never said out loud that we actually wanted to do these things, I truly believe that was the case. It wasn't as though our parents dragged us to these events. It was just common knowledge that we would go and that it wouldn't be so bad.



We genuinely cared for each other, even at such young ages. There is a running gag in my family about how I broke his arm...which I guess if you think about it, it's technically true because I was the cause. However, hear me out. We were taking turns jumping off of his bed and it was his turn. He deliberately told me not to jump out in his way because he was going to make a big jump! Me being stubborn and not always willing to do what I was told, of course jumped out right when he was jumping. He tried to maneuver in a way to avoid hitting me, therefore landing on my foot (adorned with purple jellies:) and landing on his arm in the wrong way. It's not like I did it on purpose. I was just being stubborn (as usual...a trend that I have still yet to outgrow.)



It was all of these things that planted the core of our relationship. And I have always considered myself lucky to have a big brother that I actually get along with. The older we got, the more our relationship started to change. We were no longer just brother and sister, but friends. This was such a huge deal to me. I could talk to him about anything and he would confide in me as well. In fact, I was one of the only people he would confide in.

One of my favorite memories during this time was when we were both in college (him at NC State and me at UNC-Wilmington). I drove down to meet him for dinner and we had to wait for like 2 hours before we were served. So we sat out in the parking lot and talked, actually talked about everything. I remember going home that weekend and feeling so relieved that I had such a wonderful friend in my brother.

For whatever reason, things began to turn not too long after that. We were both going through some rough times and never really sat down with each other to discuss what was really going on in our lives. We drifted apart. Things were said on both ends that were mean and hurtful. And in thinking about this time in our lives, it still hurts me tremendously. I knew I would always have him as a brother, but my greatest fear was that I would forever lose him as a friend. We were both, not only growing up, but growing apart. And we were having a really hard time trying to meet each other in the middle.

I personally was lost and in too deep. Not sure if I was able to pull myself back out of the decisions I had made, not that I ever regret these decisions because I'm a firm believer that it is part of what got me where I am today. I don't like it. And it's not fair, especially to everyone else who was involved. But I can't change it. As much as I wish I could when it comes to everyone else's feelings, that's the only regret I have.

There is no need to dig back into these memories to make my point which is this and only this. We managed to fight through it. And though it took some time to get there, we made it and we are closer today than we have ever been. We have each other back and that's what really matters. No. We can't change the past. The only thing we can do is accept it. And I think it's safe to say that we're both ok with doing that.

I love you Patch and I'm so very proud to have you in my life, not because I have to have you there. But because I want you there and because you have become one of my best friends again. Thank you. (Hopefully this thanks needs no explanation.)

Confession (and I'm not even catholic:)

I have a confession to make.....I want to flaunt my happiness!!!! Is that really such a bad thing? Why do I have this constant fear that I'm going to offend somebody if I'm always wanting to talk about how happy I am with things in my life right now. I mean, I should be happy, right? I have a wonderful family and we all actually, not only love, but LIKE each other. That's a big deal! And I'm so happy and in love that sometimes it hurts because I just feel like I'm going to burst! I'm no longer frustrated because the person I'm with isn't communicating well enough or because I don't trust him or whatever....I actually get frustrated because I can't stress enough how in love I am without using the same expressions and wording over and over again. It's like, there are no words that can truly display the love and affection and friendship we hold and cherish with each other.

So why is it that I sometimes find myself feeling guilty in certain company? Maybe it's because I know what it feels like to always be sad. I don't like to think about it. And I don't ever want to go back to that time of my life, even in memory. But I am sympathetic to those who can't seem to find whatever it is they're searching for in life, whether it be friendship, love or God, or all of the above.

It's like we're cursed to have this constant need for searching for that something that we can't even begin to define. And sometimes it's right there. Right in front of your face screaming at you. I used to think that everybody can find happiness if they search hard enough within themselves, even though there was a time when I can honestly say I had completely lost hope. But it's hope that holds a person together. And it's this same hope that saves so many of us from falling off the deep end completely. But some people give up.

I guess that's why it makes me so sad when I see someone lose that hope. And then I feel neglectful because inside...I don't want to feel sad. I want to be happy. Is that selfish? Is there a way to separate the two from one another? I mean, is it possible to be so utterly happy and still feel bad for everyone else who can't find the same sort of happiness or even catch a quick glimpse of it? Why can't I just let it go? Why do I have this incessant need to make sure everyone else is ok? When will I learn to accept that it's ok to not only take care of me, but to not feel guilty for doing so?

Because the truth is. I'm actually happy with me and I want to shout out to the world and scream "HELLO WORLD!" Life's a fact and you make of it what you will. You only have the one chance so why not make it the best you can possibly make it? Why not take advantage of what you have without taking it for granted? Why not accept things for the way that they are and if you can't, find a way to change it. It's possible! I've seen it. I'm living proof of it. So stop complaining. Stop being miserable. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Live your life to the fullest you can. Be happy and honest with yourself and the people around you. That's the reality. That's the truth. And that's the beauty behind it all.

I'm tired of feeling bad and letting it get in the way of my happiness. Life is too short. And if that makes me a cynic or a horrible person, than I guess that's what I am. It's not that I don't care, because I do. In fact, I care more than most. (Hence the fact that I'm taking time right now to write this all down:). But no longer will I let these things get in my way. It's not worth it in the end and I'm not meant to fix it anyway. I've found that out the hard way and even now have to remind myself from time to time that I don't have to "save" anyone but myself. And I've done that but not without the help of all the people around me who do really care about me.

Happiness should not be a burden to bare. And no longer will I make it one. So here it is, I'm gonna flaunt this happiness with every bit of my being because that's part of who I am. No one ever got anywhere through being negative. And you never know, perhaps it might rub off on somebody along the way.

The Proposal

I woke up This Sunday morning and upon coming out of the bathroom, glanced over at the sleeping person in the bed and thought to myself "that is my future husband." I can't even begin to describe how this made me feel. This is something that I've been long awaiting in so many ways and it has finally happened. I'm really getting married!!!

Saturday, April 4th was the day, though I was completely unaware of this. Andrew woke up that morning and decided that he was going to pop the question. He had apparently had the ring for some time. In fact, it came in the mail on a day that I actually checked it. So I held the package in my hand, unknowing what was inside and that it was the key that defined the happiest day of my life.

I had to work that Saturday and I remember lying in bed with the dreaded feeling of having to get up so early during the weekend. I also remember in looking back that Andrew had draped his arms across me and held me really tight. I love when he does that. It makes me feel so loved and safe and warm.

I went to work and had kind of a rough day. So when I got home, I just wanted to hang out with Andrew and do something fun. We decided to go to the park and walk around a little bit. We get there and I notice that Andrew is acting a little weird....yes, weirder than usual which I know to most of you this probably seems like a bit of a stretch. We had gotten out of the car and I noticed that he hadn't locked the doors. So I asked him if he was going to because I had my purse in the car.

So this is what he does. He walks back to the car, opens the car door and closes it again.....doors are still unlocked.

"You ok?" I asked him.

"Jeez what is wrong with me?" He mumbled to himself. So he opens the car door again, pushes down the lock and closes the door. To understand what is wrong with this picture is to know that you can't lock the doors on his car without turning the key and locking it from the outside...therefore...the doors are still unlocked.

I stare blankly at him and he starts walking away from the car. "Ok." I think to myself. "Um...the doors are still unlocked...are you sure you're ok? Do you need to eat something?"

"Mumble mumble mumble."He walks back to the car for a third time and finally succeeds in the trying task of securing my purse.

It's a beautiful day outside and lots of families are out and about together. One of our favorite things to do is people watch so we were strolling along the park taking everything in. As we start walking back to the car, Andrew taps his pocket and asks himself..."What is that?"

I freeze and make a slide glace to him....and......

He takes out his cell phone.....damn it. By this time, my mind is drifting further and further away from the thought that a proposal might be coming soon.

We run a few errands and try to figure out what we're going to do that night. I had previously texted Pat and Jenn to see if they wanted to hang out but his friend Andy had also said something earlier in the week about hanging out too. After discussing what we were going to do, we were going to try to play it by ear and most likely stay home and hang out and watch a movie or something.

We get home and we're sitting in the dining room, playing with the cats and taking up the sun. The prettiest time of day is around 4 o' clock when the sun is coming in from our bay window. I was lounging on the little love seat and Andrew mentions that he might just go hang out with Andy anyway.

"Ok. But what if Pat and Jenn call?" I ask.

"I don't know. I don't know what I really want to do."

"But you said about an hour ago that you wanted to stay in."

"Yeah. I think I do."

"Ok then." I go upstairs to use the bathroom when I hear my phone ring. My phone is downstairs and I'm running down to try and catch it before it stops, but merely break my leg in the process so don't quite make it. Me+stairs+running=bad thing.

I check my voice mail and it's Pat wanting to hang out. So I ask Andrew if he wants me to just invite them over and we can still all hang out.

He comes from somewhere upstairs (where he went up to get the ring while I was distracted...who knew he could be so sneaky? and says, "You know. I think I am just going to go hang out with Andy."

Are you kidding me? I hate when he's being wishy washy and he KNOWS this! Why can't he make up his damn mind?

In other words...by this time I'm upset. I stomp around with my phone in my hand exclaiming sarcastically, "I wanna stay in, I wanna go hang out with Pat and Jenn, I wanna go out with Andy, I wanna stay in...blah blah blah! Which is it? What do you want to do? It's not that hard of a decision!"

He stares at me blankly..."Well what do you want to do?"

"UGHHHHHH!!!! Fine! I'll just go hang out with Pat and Jenn and we'll meet up later."

He's standing in the kitchen. staring at me through the opening that separates the kitchen from the living room where I am standing and stops and says "This is so perfect. This is so us."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He stares lovingly at me and shakes his head. I'm livid and refusing to look at him in the eye for too long because he knows every time I do, I just melt and forget everything we were just arguing about. What were we arguing about? He walks out of the kitchen into the dining room and grabs a book off the shelf. It's my "The Personality of Birthdays" book and he sets it on the counter in front of me.

"Open it to your birthday."

"Why? I know what it says..." Grumble grumble grumble.

"Just...open it to your birthday."

"Fine!!!" I start flipping towards the back of the book, he interrupts me...

"I think it's more towards the front."

"Grumble grumble...I know what it f***in' says."

I make it to the page of my birthday and stop short. There on the page is one of the 365 post-it notes I gave him in his stocking during our first Christmas together. In my writing, it says "I love you" and placed below it is the date he put it there which was sometime in May last year. It's what was beneath this note that caught the majority of my attention. There was another post-it that said "I have a question to ask you......"

I gasped and stared blankly at the page, full of so much emotion and looked over at Andrew who was now standing beside me.

"I've been trying to figure out the perfect way to ask you this. Everyone has been giving me ideas from doing it on top of a mountain or in a fancy restaurant. That's not us and I wanted to do it from the heart and I knew I would know when the right time came. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
(Let me just say before I go any further that this is only the gist of his speech. What he actually said was so much more beautiful and moving but I could never replicate it. Plus, it's all kind of a blur because it all happened so fast.)

He gets down on one knee and grabs my hand and says "My last name, you, your first name me?" (Translation: Will you marry me?":)

"YES!!!!! Yes yes yes yes yes!!!!!" I'm jumping up and down at this point and practically tackle him.

"Wait." He says. "Did you say yes?"

"Yes! Wait, did I actually give you the chance to ask?"

"Yes!"

We stare at each other and it's so obvious how we feel about one another. We may have our stupid arguments, but....wait.

"Did you start that argument on purpose?"

He smiles at me and says "I got you good."

Wow. I am not an easy person to surprise and he was right. He did get me good. And it was perfect. It was so us and I wouldn't have changed a thing. The day I had been waiting for had finally come and I was speechless. I didn't know what to say. I still really don't.

I'm so overwhelmed by so many emotions, but in a good way. Everything seems brighter and happier and glow-y and good. Everything between us seems that much better, even though only the one thing has changed. We're engaged. But actually knowing. Actually having this ring on my finger that I so adore, is everything and more than I could have ever dreamed of. We can now talk more openly about our plans for the future, our future, and it makes me so very happy to know that we're going to be together for the rest of our lives.

I had woken up that morning expecting to have just a regular ordinary Saturday, but it turned out to be the happiest day of my life. I love you Andrew! 'Till death do us part and longer. "Forever" is what makes us unique, because we believe in it and because it will last and because we are meant to be. But most of all, it's because it's "True love. You think this sort of thing happens everyday?"

I have always been a firm believer that a child's perception of things is very critical during the time of elementary school . I think it takes a lot of patience to work in that setting and to be a teacher who is able to look outside the box and encourage a child's imagination when teaching subjects like art and music, ect. For example, my mom always tells us that she knew she would never be an artist because when she was in first grade her teacher told her the windows on the house she drew were too big. Something so small being said can affect a person for their entire life. It could close doors that were never really opened enough to explore the creativity and challenges that might have been able to be pursued.

Believe it or not, from Kindergarten to half-way through second grade, I was a talker. All of my report cards during that time of my life display a statement or 2 about how socially interactive I was and that sometimes, I had a hard time staying quiet when I was supposed to.

When I was in second grade, I found that liking my teacher Mrs. Tyndall was quite a challenge for me. There was another girl in the class with the last name "Long" and she was constantly confusing her name with mine (with my last name being "Short".) I mean seriously? How hard is it to get that straight? It was during her class that I remember getting my first multiple choice quiz where you had to color in the right circle with a number 2 pencil for the answer that you had chosen. She just passed them out and didn't explain how to do it...so I colored in all (and I mean every stinkin' one of them) of the circles for each question. (A little of my OCD coming out in my early years.) My friend sitting beside me had done the same thing because she hadn't understood how to do it either. Later, she called us to her desk and bluntly accused us of cheating. I wasn't even sure what that meant, but we were made to take the test again (after she rightfully explained how to do it). Somehow though, I felt like I was being punished.

The big day that I now look back on and can pinpoint when I started being so shy, was when I was sitting quietly at my desk in the back of the classroom, playing with a rope string that had come out of my shorts earlier in the day. I had tied it completely around my desk and was rotating it back and forth. Mrs. Tyndall told me to stop it and pay attention to the lesson. She didn't take it away from me. She just left the sting sitting there on my desk offering up temptation that no 7 year old can truly pass up. So, I waited a few minutes and then continued to play with my string. She interrupted class again and told me to stop. People were starting to stare. But again. She just left it there on my desk. It was like the forbidden string was taunting me, asking me to continue to play with it, telling me that it was no big deal. If it had of been , it wouldn't be sitting there anymore. So...taking all of this into consideration, I started playing with it for a third time.

Mrs. Tyndall lost her patience. Suddenly, she was towering over my desk, in my face, yelling at me in front of all of my fellow classmates. True. I wasn't paying attention. True. I didn't listen to what she had asked me to do. True...she was an evil bitch and must be destroyed....(Where did that come from?)

But seriously, all she had to do was take it away from me in the first place. It was too much to expect out of a little second grader to resist that sort of temptation. I wasn't back-talking. I wasn't disturbing anybody else. I was just playing in my own little world. In fact, SHE interrupted ME, now that I think about it.

And I was never the same. My report cards were never sent home again with the phrase "she's social but has a hard time keeping quiet during nap time." I went from one extreme to another...all because I was constantly being embarrassed in front of my classmates and I didn't want to be the freak. So I started to stay quiet and silently continued (and still do at times) to live in my own little happy world. And nobody, not even a mean, second grade teacher can take that away from me.

I don't yet have children of my own. But I often think about what my brother and I put my parents through during each stage of "growing up". In talking with friends of mine that now do have kids of their own and thinking back on my parents, I can't help but wonder...how the hell can they keep a straight face at times when they are "supposed" to be serious and disciplinary? Here are only a couple examples that I can remember from when I was a kid:

My mom made baked chicken for dinner one night and had allowed my brother and I to sit at the counter while her and my dad sat in the living room. Our living room is a separate room leading in from the kitchen and the counters we were sitting at are located in the den facing said kitchen. Therefore, my parents couldn't really see what was going on when we got to eat at the counter. (This minor detail proves to be important later on the story.)

It was always customary for us to ask to be excused before leaving the dinner table. My parents would always look at our plates and often try and get us to eat one or two more bites before leaving. My brother Pat had already gotten his permission to leave the table and was off playing in his room, having fun while I was stuck sitting there all alone with my leg of chicken that I DID NOT want to eat.

My mom would periodically pop her head out to see my progress (or lack there of) and try to coax me each time to eat only a couple of bites. Stubborn little child that I was...I refused. After she had asked me to eat it quite a few times, I could tell she was starting to lose her patience with me. So I got a great idea. I would sneak out of the room very quietly, dreaded chicken in my hand and throw it away. Then sneak back into my chair, unnoticed and exclaim "I'm all done!"

I was a genius!!! The trouble was, finding a trash can that my parents were unlikely to find it later on. So I obviously chose the one in the bathroom. So. Brilliant! I slid off the chair like a quiet little ninja and sneaked out of the room, into the bathroom, opened up the cabinet and tossed the chicken in. Die chicken, die! No longer will I have to eat you. I smiled mischievously and crept back into my chair.

"All done!" I exclaimed. Awesome. I would still have time to play before bedtime.

My mom comes in the room and looks at my plate. She stares for what seems like an eternity and then looks me straight in the face. (Oh no.)

"So you ate it all huh?" She says inquisitively. I nod my head and flash her my prettiest toothless grin. She nods her head. "Wow. You ate every last bit." Why is she taking so long? I wonder to myself as I anticipate jumping out of my chair and running to my room to play with my dolls. She takes one last long look at my empty dinner plate and says, "Where's the bone?"

Silence.

My lip quivers and gush! Out come the tears. I regretfully slither out of my chair, with my head hanging down, walk her to the bathroom, open the cabinet door and point into the trash can. I'd been caught and now I was going to have to eat an even more gross piece of chicken because it had been in the trash can for several minutes.

My mom did not make me eat it, but I did get sent to my room. This, I believe was my first protest in eating meat and my first glimpse of my future in later becoming a vegetarian.

There was another time when I was about 4 or 5 years old and my mom was starting a bath for me. I went ahead and got in while the water was still running to give my feet a chance to get used to the temperature. I remember my mom standing by the sink, looking in the mirror when suddenly the sound of a good stream of water, other than what was coming from the faucet, entered the room. My mom looked at me with horror and saw none other than me...stark naked, peeing in the very bath water I was supposed to be bathed in.

To be honest, I do not fully remember the result of this other than my mom screaming "What are you doing?" and grabbing me out of the tainted water as fast as she could. I didn't understand what the big deal was. After all, I had been doing this for some time without her even knowing. I will say though, after that day, I did it no more. Perhaps this explains my present fear of taking a bath unless I know the tub is really clean.

More stories later. Stay tuned.