Tuesday, January 1, 2013

06/01/1928-12/15/2012


The last time I blogged, I wrote about Christmas and tradition, a bittersweet reflection on loss and life. Shortly after that I lost my grandmother. Life has felt like a whirlwind since then, and I really do not yet have words of my own to say something beautiful about her or worthy of her.

Instead, photos and this quote:


Proverbs 25-31
“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.”

She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:

Many women do noble things

But you surpass them all.

Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting;

But a woman who fears the lord is to be praised.”

Honor her for all that her hands have done,
And let her works bring her praise at the city gate.”

Grandma holding Emma


October 2009


March 2011



May 2011




July 2011



August 2012



I also want to thank everyone for their love and support, it means so very much to me.

xoxo,

Amanda Jean

Monday, December 3, 2012

Mary, Christmas

Growing up, Christmas was more than just a holiday, it was an institution. My momma, Mary, was born on Christmas Eve, and instead of ruing the fact that her birthday and Christmas presents were oft combined, she totally embraced the holiday. In our home, Christmas meant the sounds of Little Saint Nick, Snoopy vs. The Red Baron, and the smoky, crackling voice of Eartha Kitt singing Santa Baby drifting out of the speakers. It meant a house that smelled like pie because of momma’s simmer pot, a concoction of cloves, cinnamon, and other spices that she let sit on the stove for hours, until it turned a brown the color and consistency of mud, but making the whole house smell intoxicating. I can still see the garland and lights wrapped just so around the stair case, and the dozens and dozens of Santa Clauses that momma had collected placed carefully around the house. She’s been gone six Christmases and just like her collectibles and Christmas decorations, I have kept these memories neatly packed away.
In the Christmases since her absence I have welcomed the holiday, but now I see that it was more of an awkward side hug than a full on embrace. This year is different though. I am ready; I have to be. You see, Troy has begun to realize that I no longer have a mother, at least physically. Noticing her in pictures and asking about her, I have honestly told him that she passed away, that she has died. He cups my face and cocks his head to the side, “You’re not gonna see her anymore?” he asks. “No,baby.” He looks at me and in his eyes I see that while he does not fully understand the weight of this, he recognizes the pain and sadness in my voice and matches it with tenderness in his own.
This past Saturday we pulled out Christmas decorations, turned on Christmas music, and lit a seasonal candle that made our little apartment smell delicious. We hit a glitch with our Christmas tree but a dear friend came to the rescue (thank you, Brittany!), and as I pulled out ornaments I handed them to Troy, whose eyes lit up as each delicate trinket was entrusted to him to bring to his daddy to hang on the tree. Each ornament, from a simple popsicle stick reindeer to ceramic Santas and glittery snowmen, were treasures to be delighted in and his joy was palpable, as was mine. And so, even though my children will never know the warmth of my mother’s body as she clutches them in an embrace, will never smell the Elizabeth Arden Green Tea perfume she always wore, or will never see her, mouth open and head back bursting with laughter; they will know her. They will know her in the twinkling lights on the tree, they will know her in the kitchen, sticky,small hands clutching mine on top of the mixer as we whip up Christmas treats, and they will know her by my love for her and hers for me, which has shaped me to my core.
Thanks for reading, y’all.
“Let your heart be light.”

Monday, June 11, 2012

Toddlers...and Tiaras!

Last Tuesday the nurse at T's school called me and told me that he seemed to be experiencing symptoms indicative of a gastro-bug and that it would probably be best if someone could pick him up early from school. We have been blessed to have a very healthy child, so whenever I get a call like that from the nurse I hop to it and get my munchkin. Also, my overactive/hypochondriac mind was 99% sure that T had Salmonella, E.Coli, Ebola, or some sort of mutant combination of all three. Imagine my surprise when the first thing out of T's mouth is "I want a cupcake." Hmm, maybe he doesn't have a life threatening illness after all! I would rather pick up a child who is totally fine from school than an ill one any day of the week, so that was fine with me.


                                    (Does this look like a sick child to you? Love my big boy.)

Once we settled in at home T climbed into my bed with his daddy's Nook tablet and left me to my own devices. It was a strange and rare moment; I had the television all to myself! What does one do with the free time to watch anything she wants on television? This gal right here got comfortable with one of her guilty pleasure TV shows:                      
                                                   Toddlers and Tiaras



I know I should hate this show, but I just can't. I am simultaneously horrified and fascinated by each episode, and I was secretly thrilled when I saw that it was available on Netflix. Sometimes I find myself cheering the girls on, and sometimes I find myself slack-jawed thinking Please Lord, don't let this actually be happening. In this particular episode one of the pageants had a segment called "Anything Goes". I don't know about y'all, but can I just say that for me that feels a little too much like Spring Break 2007?  

What about y'all: What are some of your guilty pleasure TV shows?

xx,

Amanda

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Trapped in the Closet

This is not a post about R. Kelly. By closet I meant bedroom, but I felt like R. Kelly in that I was trapped and upset, and really, nobody's Monday should start off the way mine did. Let me explain...

It's Monday morning and after pressing snooze on my alarm a number of times, I roll out of bed ( I am 32 weeks pregnant and it literally is a roll/heave maneuver), running late but in a good mood. After getting myself dressed and ready for work, I walk into T's room to wake him up and get him ready for school; his precious body is snuggled up in blankets and for just a second the world stops and I am overtaken by love so deep it feels almost trite to write about it. The moment passes and I am back into Morning Mommy Mode: T is awake, in a good mood, and dressed in under five minutes and I am feeling good! I walk over to the door and open it...except it doesn't open. I try again, clearly I am just not turning the knob...except I am. "Oh My God!" I say. Troy looks up at me "What's wrong, Mommy?" I calmly say (I'm still calm at this point) "The door is locked, babe." I should take this opportunity to explain that after T figured out how to open and lock doors we moved the lock to the outside of the door, thus preventing him from any late night escapes. And so now he and I are both trapped in his room.No problem, I think, I'll just call Chad and see what he suggests, then I'll call work and let them know about my little predicament so I don't get in trouble if I am missing for hours. I'm feeling better because I have a plan, until I realize that I don't have my phone. "OH MY GOD, I DON'T HAVE MY PHONE!" The situation has escalated.

I jiggle the door, twist the knob with all my might, pull on the bottom of the door and nothing happens. Not.A.Thing. This goes on for about 20 minutes and I am officially panicking.  In my head I am pretty sure that the situation will progress in the following way: 1. I will not show up for work and will be trapped in this room with T all day long with no food or bathroom. 2. I will be fired for not showing up to work. 3. Work will call Chad and he will not even be able to get into the apartment because the chain lock is on the door. 4. The apartment will catch on fire and we will die. Seriously, this is how my mind works. Sensing the severity of the situation T brings over his first aid kit and hands it to me "Open this, I"ll help you" he says, and I do it because, really, who wouldn't? I am sweating and my tummy is gurgling so I rip off my cardigan like a mad-woman and as it hits T's rocking chair, I hear the sound of my badge rustling. Never have I been more thankful to work in a place that requires badges and secured access, because my badge is going to get us out of this room! After about five minutes of wedging my badge between the door and the lock I hear a glorious pop! and we are free. Nobody was fired and nothing caught on fire and we were out the front door in minutes.

That night Chad and I hid a used Fresh Market gift card in T's room, so that just in case this situation ever happens again we will be prepared. Because you just never know...

So, I hope that if anyone had a rough Monday morning they can get some pleasure from reading about mine. And even if you had a wonderful Monday morning, go ahead and laugh, I know I am.

xoxo,

Amanda Jean