Life in the INoB

So maybe you’re wondering, and maybe you’re not. But I thought I’d share the story behind the title of the blog. So. 

About a year ago, I was talking to my Father-in-law. I like him a lot. He’s smart. He’s got a dry sense of humor. He is super patient with my kids when they want to build Lego trains for hours at Christmas. And he likes me, too. (I think.)

But I digress. 

So about a year ago I was talking to my Father-in-law about some crazy stuff that was going on in Georgia. 

So foreclosures are a big deal right now. I’m not really looking to go into all of that craziness, but it’s enough to say the foreclosures are a Big Deal. And people in Georgia were going out, finding homes that were vacant and had been forcelosed on. And they were moving into these vacant, foreclosed homes. Then they would go out and file new property deeds as an independent nation. (No, I’m not making this up). Evidently, there’s some kind of loop hole in foreclosure law (at least in Georgia) that basically says that a bank can’t own property. So until the Georgia Legislature changes the wording of the law, taking over these vacant, foreclosed homes is perfectly legal. 

Well, as you might imagine, I thought my Father-in-law was joking. I laughed. Really hard. And then I realized that he was not joking. Stunned, I let this information sink in. Unbelievable. Here we are — worrying about make our mortgage payment every month — and others are just moving in with no financial investment  to homes that aren’t theirs. 

“Well, “ I said, “there’s this house I really like. I think I’m going to go move in, write my own deed and become the head of (yep, you guessed it!) The Independent Nation of Brooke.”

However,  since my husband is an ethical man, he talked me out of squatting in an unoccupied home (despite my deep, deep desire to own a home well out of our price-range). 

But the idea of an independent nation where I am in charge has stuck. Periodically, I come up with new laws for the IDoB. I promise to share some of the m with you. 

In the meantime, thanks for visiting the IDoB. 

P.S. I need a state flag, so feel free to submit your ideas for design in the comments section. 

P.P.S: Here's an interesting and recent story about this ... almost funny.

Things I Like

1.       I like hearing Judge Judy yell at people. I know, it’s awful, isn’t it?
2.       I like organizing stuff.
3.       I like the way (clean) babies smell, but conversely I like the way my kids smell when they’re sweaty from playing hard all day.
4.       I like scars. And freckles.
5.       I like bad music. Music with no meaning whatsoever. For example ... I am not actually saying I like this song, just giving an example of bad music.

Crashing Parties Mama Style

So there's a little church across the street from our house. It's probably a 250-member or so church with a fairly active congregation. Pretty frequently we see this congregation having hotdog suppers, hay rides, bouncy houses - that kind of thing.

Well, this afternoon when my parents stopped by to pick up my 8 year-old for a sleep over, my 3 year-old said, "Look Mommy - horses!" And since we've been invited (many times) to attend functions at this sweet church, I thought to myself, "Today, we go."

So back into the house we went for my Sweet Girl to put on her jeans and (red) cowgirl boots ('cause you don't ride horses in Twinkle Toes and leggings!) and across the street we went.

What a great set-up - kids (baby goats), horses, snakes, rabbits, turtles and at least one exotic birds, plus there was a tractor all set up for a hay ride and lots of children having a great time.

And so I was talking to this really nice lady who asked me, "So, is your daughter in Cameron's class?"

"Um, no. Who's Cameron?" I said, "Isn't this a church event?"

She was very sweet, but she did laugh, and said, "No, Cameron is my son - this is his birthday party."

Oh my. Talk about being embarrassed. But the Hostess Mom was so very sweet - she said, "C'mon - let her ride the horse and see the animals. We don't mind."

So I did. I walked my 3 year-old over to the line to ride horses and in a few minutes she was riding a gelding named Sandman. She loved it. Then we walked back over for her to pet the goat and the rabbit, and hold the snake, and then we thanked the Hostess Mom and crossed the street to come home.

So. Today I taught my daughter how to crash a birthday party (and in total style, too, I might add). What did you do?

Desperately

I was driving to school yesterday morning and I found myself listening to the Bruce Robison Wrapped CD that my husband had left playing. I like Bruce Robison. I like his songs. I especially like his voice  —it’s a natural voice that fits the music he’s writing while adding just the right tone for the song. (So I’m not a music critic — sue me.)

 I’m sorry – you think you don’t know who Bruce Robison is, but you do. From Bruce’s bio page: Maybe it’s Tim McGraw and Faith Hill’s hit version of “Angry All the Time,” or George Strait’s cover of “Wrapped” or even the Dixie Chicks’ No. 1 hit, “Travelin’ Soldier.” So yeah, if you ever listen to country music at all, you’ve heard Bruce Robinson’s songs. 

So I was listening to this CD and I was hearing the words to “Desperately” which is so obviously a love song and there’s this repeating line that says, “But desperately … I long to feel your touch, but you left me all alone in love”. And like I said, it’s so obviously a love song about the loss of a lover, but all I could think about was people I love who are not with me every day, and some people who are.

I was thinking about aunts and uncles and friends. I was thinking about my Great-Grandma Lola, whose lap I sat in while she read to me or peeled apples. I was thinking of her hands and how, as just a little girl, I thought, “I hope one day my hands look just like hers”. And I was thinking of my Grandma Cross and how I can’t even drive to the beach without stopping by her grave and standing there crying like a baby — still — when nine years have passed since she died. And I was thinking of my uncle, Allen, who died in 1996 and never knew his birthmother.

But I was also thinking of you, MA, and the sweet baby you’re carrying and how I can’t wait to know him or her and of how, when we talk, you really make me think; Of you, Em, and how you make me laugh and how utterly cool you are and how gorgeous your HK’s lips are; Of you, Monk, and how you always ask the questions about my life that no one else thinks to ask and how you really listen to what I have to say; Of you, MMC, and how you make me laugh and think, of how it feels to drive home from the ATL, singing Don Williams or Thunder Road or a myriad of other artists/songs with you while our kids sleep snuggled under covers, all buckled in. 

I am so incredibly blessed and thankful that so many of the people I love — if not just down the road from me — are simply a phone call away. I wish that the people I love were with me all the time and sometimes, I’m so sad that they are not here, where I can hug them and tell them just one more time how much I love them. And this song, Bruce Robison’s "Desperately", just struck me.

I’m hoping that a song, or a book, or the words of someone you love will make your heart full today like this one did for me. 

That’s all.

A Year Makes a Big Difference

Last October, I left my part-time job with a local non-profit because … well, it was time. I felt a huge sense of peace about leaving, so it was not stressful. 

I was already a registered substitute teacher in our school district, so I let them know at my former high school (about 3 miles from our home) that I was available and pretty soon I was subbing 3-5 days a week. 

Now, I don’t think I’ll ever strike it rich working as a substitute teacher, but: 

1. It helps to pay the bills and 
2. I like high school kids. I know — it sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But I do! I think that most high school students are thoughtful, smart and funny. I like that they are still open to hearing what others have to say (for the most part) and I like that, even if it’s a small part, I get to build some relationships with high school kids. 
3. And — for the sake of honesty— let me admit that I am an absolute fool for Young Adult and Youth fiction. An absolute fool. (This will make sense later in the post).

But let’s be real here — I can’t be a sub for the rest of my life. I mean, I could but …Well, here’s the thing: I am married to a journalist and while Scott Pelly (CBS) might bring in the big bucks, he’s also working something like 15 hours a day and willing to travel to war zones, the average journalist is not rolling in it. And remember those two kids I have? Yeah. They want to play piano and soccer and tennis and golf and do gymnastics and ballet and tap and ride horses and … well, they want to do a lot of stuff. And I want them to, too. And I want us to be able to go on family vacations and I want us to be able to share with others. And while my husband’s check allows us to have a home and food and cars and insurance and I am so thankful that he has a job … well, we want a little more. 

And so back in the Spring we started talking about two options: I could go back to work full-time (if I could find a job) or I could go back to the school and complete my B.A. in Communications-Journalism. I wanted to go back to school — in fact, I had tried to go back two other times — but timing and finances were not in our favor, so it didn’t happen. But this time, by the Grace of God, things seemed to fall into place. I was re-admitted to the University in late July and the week that classes started, I found out that I was able to get financial aid. And to top it off, I was able to get the schedule I really wanted — all Tuesday and Thursday classes and home when my 3^rd Grader  is getting home from school.  

 It’s a lot, I’m not going to lie. I feel really old. Mostly because my classmates are — on average — 10 years younger than me. It doesn’t help that one of my professors (who holds a PhD) is younger than me by a couple of years. But so far, I’m an A and B student taking 12 hours of classes. The work is hard — this first semester back I have a class in Communications Research Methods that is absolutely kicking my tail (in fact, right now I should be in the library, reading through sources and working on my Lit Review – argh). But I’m hanging in there. I’m not missing classes, even though on cool rainy mornings it’s tempting to snuggle down deeper under the covers and sleep in. I’m doing my homework and all the reading. And trust me — there’s a lot of reading. Hopefully next semester I will be finished – barring any craziness in the GPA. And then what? 

Well, right now I would like to apply to a Master’s in Library Sciences program. That’s right — I want to be a LIBRARIAN. I want to stock shelves and come up with plans to get students more interested in reading. I want to help students find books they love and books and other sources that they need. 

I’m a 30-something who just figured out what she wants to do and the funny thing is, I knew when I was in 2^ndgrade that I wanted to be a librarian, but somewhere along the way that dream slipped to the wayside. But now it’s back and I’m working hard for that dream ... for me and for my family. And for high school kids who will need a little extra push.  

P.S. I am accepting tutoring help in Statistics. I love and am thankful for the Graphing Calculator, without which I would be lost. And if you want to proof read papers for me, just leave your e-mail in the comments section. And seriously, if you bothered to read this entire post, become a follower so that I know it was not time ill-spent to write this post. 

I'd like to say wake me up when September ends, but September has come and gone.

How? When?

But it's so much more than the passing of a another month, another week.

It seems like just yesterday I was a high school student playing three sports and sleeping through first block Chemistry. How then does it come to pass that I am actually a 30-something mother to two willful, amazing children who were born just days ago and by some miracle are already eight and three years old? How then is it possible that I am married more than nine years to my best friend? How then is it possible that I am an adult with a mortgage and a car payment? A mini van?

Thanks for stopping by this blog. It's new. I plan to post often. I plan to be honest. I plan to savor the remnants of my children's childhoods and I plan to share some of the good stuff here. I plan to love my husband and tell you the best stuff about him here. I plan to complain about being in school and how hard it is to look around and know that I'm not the 16-year old who ran the 800-m and the 1600-m with ease. I plan to tell you just how life is in the independent nation of Brooke.


(Wake Me Up When September Ends, Green Day, American Idiot album)