It is 6:46 pm on December 23 and I am still at my office, which is located roughly thirty minutes from my house. I stopped working at five. But I am so far behind in my Christmas shopping this year, that I have to begin most of my shopping tonight. As I look at my children’s Christmas lists and add things to carts online, I am reflecting back on what has to be one of the worst years of my life. However, instead of dwelling on that, I have decided to write about all the blessings I experienced instead.
Primarily, I got married to the most amazing husband who is pictured in the picture above. My kids and I love him more than words could ever articulate. He is the family that I have spent my entire life chasing. I won’t deny that when my wedding venue got cancelled on the eve of my wedding and then my honeymoon got cancelled the day of my wedding, I started to panic a little. That was all Covid’s doing, though. We figured it out and the wedding was even better than anticipated.
We have weathered the many, many trials 2020 has sent us together and the heavy stress has caused us to bend at times. But we didn’t break. And now, we are all stronger as a family. We may be chaotic and filled with one catastrophe after another but, as long as we stick together, we always come out of the other side stronger and more resilient. And, most importantly, grateful for every blessing we get.
Thank you to everyone that has followed my blog, sent me support and guidance, or just read my articles. I write this primarily for my own therapy. This blog has been another blessing that I cannot discount.
Merry Christmas to everyone, or Happy Holidays, or thank you. Every like, read, and comment was more support than I expected and it is very much appreciated. I sincerely hope that 2021 will be a different year for all of us, hopefully better, than 2020. If it is not, I will still find many blessings to count.
I got my love for shocking people from my mother. No filter, no care for political correctness, and no f*&ks given were also handed down to me, via the maternal side. We also have the same straight face that makes messing with others extremely fun as no one can tell if we are kidding or not.
As a child, and now as an adult, she provided me with love, laughter, confusion, and fear. All the things that make up a great parent, in my mind. Over the years, and despite what I told myself growing up, I have adopted some of her ways as my own. Others, I have left for her to keep to herself.
This advice is a gem that I have passed down to my own kids. There comes an age, usually in middle school, when the size of a shirt or a pair of shorts suddenly become the size of a peanut. The tiddly bits of young ladies are almost exposed because they are so short! I sound like my own grandmother right now, but it is what it is.
It was during my own dress like a whore phase that my mother sat me down for a chit chat. She told me, “You have to hoe up or hoe down. You can’t do both or you’ll get a reputation.” The reputation threat didn’t really bother me, because I didn’t care what people thought of me. However, I thought that was really good advice because I wanted to show some kind of illusion of being classy while also submitting to the mating dance of the hormonal, like the other teens.
So when I wore a cleavage bearing shirt, I would wear long pants. When I was rocking some booty shorts, I would make sure my cleavage was covered. Even though I am old as dirt now, I still use this advice often with my children, others and even on myself when I’m feeling particularly whore like.
Thanks, Mom!
This is She
If you answered the phone at my house and you were heard replying, “This is her” to a person asking to speak with you, you were no better than a convicted felon. My stepfather was the editor of the local paper and my mother may have been the first grammar Nazi. I never understood the big deal of it all until I watched my children trying to date people who couldn’t speak correctly. Then I understood.
Sorry, Mom.
Don’t say fart or crap. That shit is fucked up.
My mother had her own version of bad words. The word fart being the dreaded F word in my house. It was hugely offensive. We had to call it a motor boat. Imagine my surprise when I got older and learned the other definitions of motorboat.
We won’t talk about how many odd looks I got for gasping in response to someone saying the word fart.
Appropriate Gifting
All births deserve flowers to be sent and all deaths deserve hand delivered casseroles. Nothing cures grief faster than some tater-tot casserole. All wedding showers will get a money envelope. We don’t give a f$&k about your registry. Have fun buying that new toaster with your new husband, because you are getting what we decide you need.
Furthermore, any necessities that you notate on your registry are to be ignored. We will buy what we want. If it is a cute child, or even an ugly one, we are buying for, we will pick out a cute gift. Otherwise, you will get cash. Those are the only options.
After Midnight
It doesn’t matter how old you are or what the other kids are doing. Nothing is open after midnight except legs and Walmart and you don’t need to be in either of them.
Door
Don’t slam the door!
This was a disrespectful action equitable to flipping the bird or worse. I don’t know if the cost of a door used to be ludicrous or what, but door slamming, aka door damaging, was a big deal back in my day.
I guess the price of doors was a lot higher when I was a kid. Because my mom lost her ever loving mind when I slammed one.
Photo by Jovana Askrabic via Unsplash
Dogs
I grew up thinking that dogs were boys and girls were cats in the pet world. I’m going to tell you that I was not 17 before I knew this was not the case. Just please politely mind your business. Once again, I would like to thank my mother.
Underwear
Never leave the house in underwear that is not in mint condition, lest you die suddenly. It is apparently a huge deal for any EMTs or funeral home workers to see underwear that has been tainted.
Of course now that I’m older and I understand the bodily functions better, I realize this is not reasonable in any way.
This article just covers the ludicrous that my mother taught me in my childhood. The good things she instilled in me would take several books to record. Maybe one day.
Being a vibrant, head-turning woman is almost a memory for me. I have since faded, turning by shades into a middle aged woman with affinities for animals and gardening. The smaller my beauty becomes, the larger my mouth and personality gets. With something lost, something is gained elsewhere I suppose.
I envision myself at 80 and the images my mind creates are all vastly different from the next, causing my emotions to fluctuate between fear, sadness, pride, and contentment. In one vision, I am eighty with pink hair. I yell at whomever I decide deserves it and take no shit from anyone. I hang out with my other old friends all the time and am spoiled by my children and grandchildren.
Another vision of 80 me is quite different. I am sitting in a one bedroom apartment that is subsidized. I have almost no food, no visitors, and nineteen cats. Every day is the same as the one before. I am just waiting to die.
I don’t know what steps to take to get to the vision I want to live out, but I’m going to start with continuing to live f&*k-free. I will act silly, laugh when I want to, and continue not to conform to other’s ways of living. I am original, as we all are, and have no desire to fit the mold.
This is my plan. At 65, I will go ahead and get those really cool glasses holders that dangle and start dressing like Stevie Nicks. But a redneck version, obviously. I will be way too cool to ever join the Red Hat society. I will start my own spinoff called the Turquoise Sombrero Society.
At 75, I will start dying my hair red or purple. I will fight every instinct in my body to go get a curling set at the beauty salon on a weekly basis. Maybe then I will set the stage for the cool old me to come out. haphazard as it may be, at least I have a plan of action.
I am trying to focus on the present instead of longing for the past. With age, I have developed into the person I have always wanted to be. I hope that eventually I have grandchildren and I hope I get to see my children walk down the aisle or across the stage of their choosing. Unfortunately, some family and friends that I thought cared have proven otherwise. I am learning to let go of the bad to make room for better to find it’s way into my life.
One thing I do know is that life is short and I intend to savor the rest of mine.
People ask me what my goal is. They ask what would be the most perfect scenario I could envision for my life. That is too easy.
I have fought for my entire life. I fought for attention, for peace, for health, for my children. I fought for my husbands, and I fought for others. I fought for a true friend, for beauty, and for respect.
I fought to eat, to survive, and to live. I fought to matter, for someone to be proud of, for family, for support. I fought to be heard, seen, and known. I fought to not be my family’s past. I fought for my own future. I fought family and I fought friends. I fought love given and I fought love received.
So, what I want now and what I have wanted for a long time is only peace. Quiet and tranquil peace. At least for a while. I want to stop fighting for a moment.
I’ve never been to war, but I go to war every day.
Articles are meant to share information, tips, and opinions. This one is important to my heart. It is a list of the items I think should be made to be common sense knowledge at a minimum.
Teach it in school, teach it at home, blare it from loudspeakers in North Korea, and replace all media ads with it. I don’t anyone to be able to claim ignorance anymore. We are all put on this Earth for a reason and I know what mine is.
Best case scenario, this would become criminal activity. I have about 18 laws I will recommend we take off the books if we can have these in their stead.
Kylie’s Public Service Announcements
1st offense — Warning
2nd offense — Life in prison
Backpack
You, good sir, are not a backpack. So, kindly remove yourself from being one millimeter from me while we are standing in line at the gas station. Standing closer to me won’t get me done with my transaction any faster.
I do not like feeling your breath on my shoulder. “I beg your pardon, Sir. Please remove your breath from my neck and fuck off a few feet back.”
Even with the pandemic and the six feet away rule in place, it does not stop some people. These people are primarily at the gas station and Wal-Mart for some reason.
Holding The Door
Look, I am from Georgia and no one appreciates a gentleman more than us. But if I’m 500 yards away in the gas station parking lot, please do not hold the door for me. I do not want to do an awkward run/walk across the parking lot. Then you will not be standing there holding the door for five minutes straight.
We all appreciate what you’re trying to do. God sees you and we all see you. Just cut it out, though. I am not trying to run.
Hygiene
For god’s sake, please brush your teeth and bathe. Dousing yourself in cologne does not count as bathing.
Some of us can still smell so please have pity. If you are not sure if you smell or not, ask yourself when was the last good scrubbing you had. Or ask a friend or a family member to tell you.
Just because I like to wear a cardigan does not mean I am a librarian. I work on the south side of my town and apparently they equate every white person in a sweater as a librarian. Make no mistake, my street CRED is unparalleled.
Cardigans are amazing. If you are hot, you can take it off. If you are cold, you can put it on. You can buy one in every color to go with every shirt that you own. Stop the hate against cardigans.
And also, calling someone a librarian is not an insult. There’s no shame in being smart or appearing to be smart. I just don’t like the ignorance of cardigan shaming.
Lottery
For the love of all that is holy, please play your damn lottery during working hours. Not right before work starts or right after work ends. We have jobs to get to and don’t have time for you to pick eight number sevens, five number threes, and eight number twos.
And please tell me how the hell you manage to have the money to play the lottery every day when you don’t, apparently, go to work. I’m talking to you, weird creepy guy that hits on me every day at the gas station.
Get a job. The chance of you getting rich is much higher that way. The chance of you scoring at the gas station is much higher that way as well.
I have touched on this before. It’s still an issue. Facebook messenger was not invented for the sole purpose of harassing women on the internet. At least I don’t think it was.
Regardless, it is absolutely the most annoying thing that has ever happened. Even though I find some small pleasure in rebutting the advances of said weirdos, I wish they would just stop already.
I’m sure there are women that have used this for that as well, but I have never heard of one in my life or from someone I know. Just last week I had a man asking me to use him financially, no strings attached. Now if I was a younger, dumber version of myself, I might’ve fallen for that.
I’m 41. I know there’s no such thing as no strings attached. So, sorry Buddy, you’ll have to spend your paycheck on yourself or some other lady that believes you will leave her alone and just hand her the money.
These are just some of the most urgent items I must fix as your new leader. I mean, someone should do something about these issues.
So call upon Congress or write me in for the next election. The choice is yours.
My children will be all raised and gone from my house before I know it. I will be left behind with their memorable words, dirty handprints, and toddler images rooted in my mind. My brain understands this, but my heart does not! My identity will be carried off with them.
These children have been the focal point of my life for the last twenty years. At times, they have been the only thing standing between me and insanity. They have been my anchors when my life was adrift. I poured all of the best parts of me into raising them and I have never been prouder of anything else. They are the best and only achievements that matter to me.
My oldest daughter has flown the coop already. She has not looked back either. Although I miss her terribly, I know she is smart and self-sufficient.
My boys, however, don’t inspire much confidence in self-sufficiency. Even so, my eighteen-year-old son is counting down the days until he can spread his wings. I can’t fault him. I was the same way.
The problem is that I still look at them and see the two toe-headed little toddlers that they once were. The ones that constantly brought mischief, excitement, and exhaustion into my life. The ones that taught me how to be a mother and truly love someone.
However able they may be, it is still excruciating for me to sit by and watch them make mistakes I see coming a mile away. They ignore what I know is a red flag and just assume I am an old lady who doesn’t know what she is talking about. After all, my experiences were from the “olden days” and these are new times. So, I shut my mouth and sit back.
The Plan
I still have two young left to finish mothering so that will keep me in check for the next eight years. But after that, I can already see that I’m going to have a hard time figuring out who I am other than a mother.
I have a career, hobbies, and a husband, but they all take a backseat to motherhood. I have dogs, birds, and a turtle to use my motherly instincts on as well. But I can foresee that it won’t be enough for me.
My plan of action for the inevitable empty nest syndrome is to continue to improve myself and work on finding a passion beyond writing and mothering. I need to strengthen other relationships so I can lean on that love while the other leaves me temporarily.
I also plan to adopt six more dogs, but don’t tell my husband. I did some research on how the “experts” say we should prepare for empty nest syndrome. No one can say that I am not preparing for this upcoming disruption in my life.
The Research
The Mayo Clinic says to prevent being afflicted with empty nest syndrome you must accept the fact your kids are leaving, keep in touch with them when they go, seek support from friends and family, and to stay positive.
The experts at Wikipedia note that you should stay in touch with people, get invested in a new hobby, or rekindle your relationship with your spouse should you be so inclined.
Good Housekeeping, in my opinion, gives the best advice. They say for you to figure out who you are as an individual, make a plan of action to stay in contact with the nest flyers, structure your days to stay busy, and to find new pleasures in life.
In the meantime, I will focus on enjoying the time I have left with them. And since I’m fretting so far in advance, maybe I’ll try to wean myself from my mothering dependency. This whole time they thought they needed me, but I needed them more.
Kylie’s Rants 