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Never Fade Away

Posted on January 12, 2011 Written by Tonya

I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived. – Little Bee by Chris Cleave

Everyone loves a good scar story.

We all have at least one.

I have six.

Little reminders that have faded over time of my vanity, immaturity and close calls…

In order in which they were received:

1. Inside left leg – I had a benign tumor removed when I was four years old and had to wear a full leg cast for eight weeks. The scar is roughly six inches long and I have only ever been comfortable with my husband touching it.

2. Left hand – an inch long scar from hitting a mirror in an elevator of our apartment complex upon having an argument with my father. I NEVER thought the mirror would shatter into a million pieces. Nice reminder of my teenage angst, huh? The really sad part is I don’t even remember what the fight was about.

3. Right leg, just below my knee – a mess of a scar that thankfully only shows up when I tan from a motorbike accident that I was in on my birthday in 1985 with my dear friend Sophie. I was the passenger and alcohol was involved.

4. Center of my forehead – a quarter inch horizontal scar from a pea-sized calcium deposit I had removed.

5. Right heel – a three incher from a “pump bump” (heel spur) I had removed in college. What woman doesn’t want to wear heels from time to time?

6. Right breast – a half inch long reminder that a lump I found could have been a lot worse.

I have other scars too, the ones that were self inflicted; ear ring holes (at one point I had four, now only two remain) and three very meaningful tattoos that I don’t regret getting even for one second.

And then there are the scars you can’t see, the ones on my heart made by the losses in my life. The ones full of memories and love and that will never fade away.

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop: Prompt 1.) Scarred.

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Operation: Get Organized 2011

Posted on January 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

Operation: Get Organized 2011 is under way!!

Maybe it’s the freshness of a brand new year or all of Target’s wonderful container displays, or the fact that nothing makes you take a good, long, hard look at all your stuff better than a move, but I seriously need a Peter Walsh intervention.

If you aren’t familiar who Peter Walsh is, he is the brilliant Australian who hosts Clean Sweep on TLC and is regularly featured on Oprah as THE decluttering and organization guy. He’s hard core and I could benefit from his tough love.

I am NOT a hoarder by any means, in fact I am one of the most organized people I know. Everything has it’s place in my kitchen, bathroom, purse, wallet, and car, HOWEVER, I do tend to hold on to things for far too long.

Things that don’t matter, but represent a memory.

Things that mean absolutely nothing to you, but everything to me.

Things that, at the end of the day are nothing but clutter and take up very valuable space.

Things that, in some cases may be hard for me to part with.

Things like: magazine clippings, receipts, hotel room keys, dried flowers, matchbooks, movie, concert and airline ticket stubs, notes and cards from friends and family (and not like meaningful handwritten letters, I’m talking postcards, thank you cards, birth announcements, birthday and wedding invitations), restaurant business cards, notebooks I kept when I was in college and papers and poems I wrote in junior high and high school, books that I have read and re-read and marked up and pictures up to my eyeballs.

All of my mementos are kept neatly in several plastic containers in our garage and every once in a blue moon (hardly ever), I’ll go through them and wonder, why do I keep all this stuff?

This year I vow to go though these containers and purge!

The truth is, I DON’T need this stuff and it’s time to let it go.

We (I) also have a lot of candles, candle holders, vases, picture frames without pictures and other knick knacks of absolutely no significance. They were impulse buys, gifts, or no longer go with my lifestyle or decor. If they’re not being used, these things have got to go too!

Yesterday, my husband took Lucas to a yard sale in our old neighborhood and came home wanting to have a sale of our own. Not a bad idea! What’s the saying, one mans junk is another man’s treasure? I doubt anyone will want my wine cork collection, but the other stuff might be worth something to someone.

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The Spirit Of Christmas – Redux

Posted on December 24, 2010 Written by Tonya

I originally posted this last year (December 16, 2009 / The Spirit of Christmas) back when I only had 16 followers.

The memories and sentiments remain true today, so with very few edits, I’d like to share it with you again and from my house to yours, Merry Christmas!

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My mother loved Christmastime and our house was always decked out for the holidays. She was the reason Hallmark Cards exists!

We always had a beautiful tree covered with colorful international treasures from our life overseas and all the traveling we had done together.

She loved snow globes and nativity scenes and every year one whole couch would be completely covered with her motley crew of Christmas guys (stuffed animals dressed in red and green).

She had Christmas dishes strewn about the house filled with holiday candy and would have enough baked goods on hand to guarantee at least a three to five pound weight gain after each visit.

She was a big fan of the Christmas letter (writing and receiving them) and she loved shopping for our holiday cards and stationary the day after Christmas for the following year. I remember many 5:00 AM alarms going off on December 26 and the two of us rifling through bins of picked over greeting cards to find enough boxes for everyone on her and my father’s Christmas list. I swear they must have sent 300 cards!

I miss my mother every day but especially during the holiday season. She made Christmas special and a lot more fun with her childlike enthusiasm and overall joy. My dad, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Sure, he loved the Christmas cookies and other goodies, but growing up, his family would put up their Christmas tree the day before Christmas and take it down the day after, or so he said.

He would often tell my mom to buy what she wanted and he would wrap it and put it under the tree. Over the years, he started to get into it more and I think even began to enjoy picking out gifts for all of us and eventually came to understand the element of surprise, however, his wrapping always left a lot to be desired! See picture above; that is VHS tape wrapped around a present. My dad also had a vast collection of holiday music and liked to play it constantly the week of Christmas.

One of my favorite family holiday traditions on Christmas day was after all the presents were opened and prominently displayed in front of the tree (another tradition), we would go to a movie. Many big blockbusters open on Christmas day and we had fun trying to agree on which one to see. After the movie we would come home and make leftover turkey sandwiches and each have a slice of pie. Chocolate pudding for me, pumpkin for my dad, and pecan for my mom and sister.

It’s hard to believe that this will be my fourth Christmas without my parents and second with Lucas. It is very different now and for me it has lost some of the magic.

Leah and I have kept the tradition of seeing a movie on Christmas Day, followed by lunch together, just the two of us. We spend a lot of time reminiscing and looking forward too.

My in-laws have done their best to include me and my sister in their holiday, but I am looking forward to creating new traditions with Lucas and hopefully seeing some of that lost Christmas spirit shine through him.

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You’ve Got A Friend In Me

Posted on December 16, 2010 Written by Tonya

1. Thoughtful
2. Meticulous
3. Curious
4. Reserved
5. Loyal

When you first meet me, you might think I’m shy, quiet, obstinate, stuck-up, or even bitchy. And those five words describe me pretty well too.

Sometimes.

You see, I don’t let just anyone and everyone in. I have a very close knit circle of friends and only a very few get to ever know the real me, but once I decide to let down my guard and share myself, you will have a friend in me for life.

You can trust me to be faithful and true
You can trust me through and through

When you hurt, I hurt
I’m always here to comfort

I’m the friend you can call in the middle of the night
Tell me your troubles and I’ll help you see the light

I may not always have the best advice to give
But I’ll listen with an open mind and heart and always be supportive

When you need a friend, I’ll be there
This I promise, this I swear

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #2 Describe yourself in five words. Choose one, and write a poem.

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Where Are You From?

Posted on December 6, 2010 Written by Tonya

“Where are you from?”

It’s such an ordinary question.

It’s right up there with, “what do you do?”.

All my life, however, my answer has been rather complicated.

As a response, “I was born in Texas, but grew up overseas” is rarely satisfactory. I think it’s the word: overseas. It sounds so exotic.

And it is.

Sort of.

The inquirer, if they want to know more, usually follows up with,”military brat?”

“No.”

“Peace Corps?”

“No, my parents worked in American-International schools and I lived all over.”

This reply is typically faced with one of two reactions:

1) A simple “oh”, due to lack of time and/or interest.

2) “Oh, where?”

Usually it’s 2) and then I list all the places I’ve lived; Karachi, Pakistan, Banjul, The Gambia in West Africa and Maracaibo, Venezuela.

It’s an impressive list, if I do say so myself. What’s even more impressive is that my parents continued to live and work aboard for another 18 years in four other countries (Somalia, Mozambique, Myanmar and Tunisia) after I returned to the states to attend college.

The 11 years (ages 7 – 17) I spent as an expat had its ups and downs, but for the most part was exciting, educational and a lot of fun. And I knew no different.

Every place I lived was coastal, so I grew to love the water. English was predominately spoken and my friends were mostly European, many of which I am still close with. I was exposed to more people, food, culture, customs, political beliefs and poverty than many of my American counterparts ever would be. I have had six passports, still have the travel bug and enjoy exploring outside the U.S. at least once a year. Luckily, I married someone with that same need and together, we want to show Lucas as many places around the globe as we can.

I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to experience so much world travel and at such a young age, but there really is no place like the good ole US of A.

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Ebony & Ivory

Posted on November 18, 2010 Written by Tonya

We learn to live, we learn to give each other what we need to survive together alive. – Paul McCartney

I’m burned out.

Firstborn, middle born, last born, only child, or twin.

How two people that come from the exact same parents can be so completely opposite of one another is baffling to me.

In my sister and my case, I blame our age difference.

For as long as I could remember, I wished for a little sister and then when I turned 11, my wish came true. And before you ask, my sister was completely planned; the 11 year age difference and everything. My mother even had her IUD removed in order to conceive her. TMI?

My parents were no strangers to age gaps; there were 13 years between my father and his eldest brother and eight between him and his middle brother. There were six years between my mother and her brother.

Whenever my parents were asked why they waited so long to have another child, the response was that they wanted to be more financially stable. Fair enough, I suppose. I didn’t care, I finally had what I had always wanted.

I remember every detail of the day my sister was born. It was magical and hectic and so exciting. Up until the birth of my own son, it was one of the best days of my life and nothing can compare to being old enough to witness the joy and pride in my parents over the new addition to our family. It was written all over their faces for the nine months leading up to Leah’s arrival and it was understood that our household would never be the same.

As I was entering high school, she was starting kindergarten.

As I graduated from college, she was struggling with her math homework.

As I was going through a divorce, she was buying a prom dress.

As I was busy building a career, she was trying to figure out what her major would be in college.

As I was a newlywed for a second time and she had just graduated from college, we both lost our parents.

As I was preparing to have a baby, she was trying to start her career.

It’s sad to think that our lives will never catch up to each other and while we may experience some of the same things years a part, it was only with the deaths of our parents that they were derailed at the exact same time. Only we know what it feels like to go through something like that. Our memories of our parents are different in some ways, but our love and loss is shared.

While Leah was in college, our parents still lived and worked overseas so I became, for lack of a better term, her surrogate mother. This is not a role that I have ever been completely suited for nor enjoy all that much.

Never the less, I answered the phone in the early morning hours, waited for the texts they said she landed safely, replied to the numerous questions about growing up, life after living under your parents roof and members of the opposite sex and offered advice, whether solicited or not over money management, career opportunities and portraying a positive, wholesome image. I did this through her four years of college and still do it now.

I’m tired of being the older sister.

I have my own child now.

I’m burned out.

Over the years we have shared many laughs and good times. We’ve gotten more than a little pissed off at one another, especially lately.

We are true sisters and I love Leah with all my heart.

After 26 years later, while I can’t imagine my life without my sister in it, I honestly believe that the 11 years between us has been detrimental and I can’t help but wonder how our relationship would be different, better even if we were closer in age.

My sister and I are in need of a long, heart-to-heart, an open, honest, most likely with raised voices, possibly four letter words and maybe even some tears conversation. I’m dreading it, but it’s overdue.

I feel a tremendous amount of pressure and responsibility.

I want to redefine my role.

I’m burned out.

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #1: Why are your burned out?

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These Are My Confessions…

Posted on November 11, 2010 Written by Tonya

Here goes nothing… a list of all (some) of my weird, embarrassing, illegal and shameful activities. I am sure there are more where these came from, but let’s just start here.

Please don’t judge.

I steal magazines from my doctor’s office.
I let the gas in my car get dangerously low before I fuel up. We’re talking single digits.
I have had the same three Netflix movies for four months. What a waste of $68!
I color my hair and only wash it every three days.
I screen my phone calls.
I make our bed within minutes of getting up in the morning.
I miss working.
I want to rip a person’s arm off if they take food from my plate.
I listen to audio books when I walk.
I cheat at Scrabble, but rarely win.
I let Lucas watch too much TV.
I watch too much TV.
I record Oprah every day and I’ll cry when this season is over.
I have never read one single Harry Potter book, nor have I seen any of the movies.
I don’t like to eat leftovers.
I think there should be a ban on onions. I love the way they taste, but can’t stand the way they make my house smell.
I can’t get one hand wet without getting the other one wet too.
I can rarely listen to a song without singing along.
I can’t stand people that can’t show up on time.
I stole some erasers and gum from a convenience store when I was in the fifth grade and gold charms with my BFF Sophie when we were in junior high.
I use subtitles when I watch movies at home.
I drive over the speed limit and have been know to tail gate.
I’d rather send an e-mail than pick up the phone.
I once “borrowed” a scarf from a friend that I never returned.
I don’t like fish.
I still have thank you cards to send for gifts we received when Lucas was born.
I recently bought a Justin Beiber song on iTunes, of course, if you got your hands on my iPod, you’d think I was schizophrenic.
I floss my teeth (when I floss) before I brush them.

So, there you have it. Well, some of it. What dirty little secrets are your hiding?

This post is forMama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop– Prompt #2: What are your confessions? (inspired by Usher)

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Boy Crazy

Posted on November 4, 2010 Written by Tonya

I can’t remember when it happened to me exactly… the moment I realized I was boy crazy. It must have been sometime between fifth and sixth grade, but by junior high, I know I was a complete goner.

It happens to the best of us. We hit a phase in our lives where we just lose all control and find ourselves mad about the opposite sex (or same sex). Blame it on hormones, pressure to fit in, new found freedoms or boy bands, whatever the cause thank goodness it doesn’t last very long.

Between the ages of 11 and 17, it seemed I had a different crush every month. Whether it be a classmate, an upper classmate, my best friend’s boyfriend, my boyfriend’s best friend or the entire cast of The Outsiders. The more boyish charm, ultra cool swagger or bad behavior, the better. I also liked dark hair and dark eyes and The Outsiders had all of that and then some.

I have indirectly followed the whole cast’s careers over the years.

I respect Emilio Estavez for keeping his father’s surname, enjoy seeing Matt Dillon break away from the “troubled youth” roles, shed a tear when Patrick Swayze died last fall, would rather see a Tom Cruise action movie than a frou frou period piece and still swoon over Rob Lowe on Brothers & Sisters. I think my favorite of the bunch is Rob Lowe. That guy is still beautiful. Have you seen him lately? He does not age.

These days, I only have the time and wherewithal to be boy crazy for my husband and my son, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a couple celebrity crushes.

Let’s see: Matthew McConaughey – with his southern drawl, I could listen to him read the phone book, Clive Owen – a leading man I’d like gladly co-star with, Leonardo DiCaprio – a brilliant actor that is simply fascinating to watch, Bradley Cooper, (except for the fact that he’s linked to Renee Zellweger, whom I can’t stand!) Jake Gyllenhall, Josh Duhamel, and what list would be complete without Hollywood’s ultimate bachelor, George Clooney? I may have just cast a remake of The Outsiders with this list. Wouldn’t that be something? Although, I don’t know if I could handle it. Hmmm, and I thought my boy crazy phase ended at 17.

Who’s on your list?

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #1: What actors from childhood do you think about? Have you looked up anyone lately? (inspired by Missy from The Marketing Mama)

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In The Nick Of Time

Posted on September 23, 2010 Written by Tonya

Even after 15 months, I feel as though I am STILL struggling with motherhood and I wonder how long it will take until I’m completely comfortable with my (not so) new role.

Some days, I just don’t want to do it.

Motherhood is NOT for the weak. It’s exhausting, frustrating, irritating, annoying and aggravating.

Between the messes, tantrums, not being able to fully communicate with one another and the unpredictable schedule, some days I don’t know how I am going to make it through and this is just the beginning.

I have plenty of help and support from my husband, family and friends, but I am fighting demons and being pushed and pulled in ways I never thought I could or would be.

I am the least patient person I know and parenthood is ALL about patience. It’s also about sacrifice. I don’t know really know how to explain it, other than to say: I’m selfish. I’m selfish with my time, my space, my energy and when you become a mom, there really is no room for selfishness. None.

I was raised as an only child until I was almost 12 years old and even then, once my little sister arrived we were at such different phases of our lives, that I might as well still been an only child.

I was used to getting my way, being heard, being in control and having everything “just so”. All that goes right out the window when you have a child. It’s no longer all about me.

I became a mother just in the nick of time. It was time for something really big to shake me up, wake me up and take me so far out of my comfort zone that I’d feel alive with emotion. Motherhood has turned my world upside down and leaves me asking for more. Motherhood has been the single best thing that has ever happened to me. I have never loved anything or anyone more in my life and as much as I fight it, I welcome the challenges and internal turmoil that it has brought my life. Now, if I could just learn to accept it.

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. – Lao Tzu

The best is yet to be.

This post is for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop – Prompt #2 Tell us about a day you were sure you wouldn’t get through.

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My – Not So – Dream Car

Posted on September 22, 2010 Written by Tonya

This post is part of my homework for Week 2 of Kludgy Mom’s Back to School/Back to Blogging workshop. I chose the Idea Bank writing prompt: My First Car, which was suggested by Cheryl at Scrubby Brush.

In Spring of 1993, my last living grandparent, my mother’s mother passed away. With the inheritance that my mother received, she and my father paid off their stateside home in Arizona, what little debt they had, my entire college tuition and offered to buy me my very first car.

I was told I could spend $20,000 and that I could get anything I wanted and I had three months to figure it out. A young person’s ultimate dream, right?

I started test driving everything… the Toyota Paseo, Saturns, a Ford Mustang, the Nissan Sentra, a Honda CRX, an Isuzu Rodeo, the Acura Intega and the only car I really had my heart set on: the all new, completely redesigned and adorable Volkswagen Carbio convertible.
The car that Cindy Mancini drives in Can’t Buy Me Love.

The car made for a college girl.

The car that was fun to drive, super cute and had side impact airbags.

And. It came in the most beautiful shade of navy blue. My favorite color! It also had automatic transmission and a CD player.

I poured over the glossy brochure, visited the Volkswagen dealership so many times that you would have thought I worked there and test drove over and over, each time falling deeper and deeper in love.

I enjoyed the way the air hit my face and messed up my hair when the top was down and how quiet it was when the top was up. I wanted this car so badly and was so proud of myself for doing my research, getting to know all the other cars in my price range and staying under budget.

My dream almost became a reality…

In June of 1994, my parents returned to Arizona from Mozambique for their summer break and it was time to go car shopping.

I had to, with the help of the car salesman, convince my parents of the safety features. They were deeply concerned (as they should have been) about the fact that my dream car was a convertible. This turned out not to be as hard as I thought it was going to be and so came time for the negotiations.

I will never forget sitting in the showroom going over the price of the car thinking, “I’m going to get this car. Oh my God, I’m going to get this car!”, when the inevitable and dreadful “let me take this figure to my manger” moment came up. This went a few rounds and no one was budging.

The color I wanted wasn’t on the lot and would have to be ordered. The salesman said that it would require an $800 deposit. My dad wrote a check and handed to the salesman, I would like to believe in an effort to show his good faith and as a last ditch effort to get the dealership to come down on their price, which was below $20,000. To make a long story short(er), the manger said “no”, the check was ripped up and we left the dealership.

I was not going to get the car. I was devastated!

A couple of days later my dad had his own car, a Buick Regal serviced. He and my mother were just days away from returning overseas where they lived and worked as educators for nine months out of the year. They had their car detailed and prepared for the long months it sat on blocks in the garage.

My dad came home singing the praises of a saleswomen he had met that day at Royal Buick and a car that she had on the lot that he thought I might like.

A Buick? Really? Old people drive Buick’s. You and mom drive a Buick.

No, this was very hip he told me. It’s a Skylark and it fits all your criteria.

My what?

1) Navy blue
2) Automatic
3) Room for four
4) CD player
5) And while it’s not a convertible, it has a sunroof.

He was right.

And the clincher? 6) If you get this car, your mom and I will pay for your car insurance for a year.

Fine. Car shopping was exhausting and I didn’t have it in me to start all over, plus my parents were never going to leave me the money to carry out this project on my own and they wouldn’t be home again until December.

Done.

I hated that car from the minute I started driving it. It was exactly what I didn’t want. It wasn’t hip or cute in any way. It was a Buick. My friends all made fun of me, but I drove everyone everywhere and in the end, I learned to appreciate it. After all, who was I to complain? It was paid for, brand new and it got me from point A to B and back again hundreds of times for five years. I have a lot of good memories in that car. Then my sister totaled it.I really wish that I had asked my dad if he got free oil changes and/or car washes for life after buying me the Skylark. He had to have gotten some sort of kick back, right?

Years later, I finally did get a Volkswagen. A Passat. I have owned three cars since then, but the Passat was my favorite.

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Never Fade Away

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Operation: Get Organized 2011

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The Spirit Of Christmas – Redux

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You’ve Got A Friend In Me

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Where Are You From?

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Ebony & Ivory

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Boy Crazy

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