it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My Charlie Brown Christmas

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My Charlie Brown Christmas: I am not sure what it was.  Typically festive, organized and over the top Type A...I jump into every holiday, especially Christmas.  Like my...

My Charlie Brown Christmas

I am not sure what it was.  Typically festive, organized and over the top Type A...I jump into every holiday, especially Christmas.  Like my mother, who has most of hers bought and wrapped by Halloween, I am not a procrastinator.

I stress over what wrapping paper goes on what child's gifts, all wrapped in code...no tags, a code.  The gifts, cookies, the dreaded perfect Christmas card, the decorations, I take it all on with a Martha Stewart, Linda Bahneman, Pintrest spirit.

Except for this year.

I pulled the decorations out on the Thanksgiving weekend.  But then, I stopped.  I don't know what hit me, but I realized that I was simply going through the motions without any emotions.  I was robotic in my approach.  I stopped.

I mean totally stopped.  I had HUGE expectations for this holiday.  My "button" was home for the first time in four years.  Was I doing this for him?  Was I adding ridiculous pressure to everyone for the perfect holiday?  My niece was going to be here too.  She was in Europe last Christmas.  In 50 years, since he was born, I have never been apart from my brother on Christmas. 

So here it was, the beginning of the holiday season, and I have stopped.

We had taken two angels from the Angel Tree at church and I was determined that my kids were doing the shopping, not me.  So, Walker leaves for Boy Scout camp and Addie says, "I got this Walker."  I take Addie and her BFF to Toys R Us with high hopes of finding the perfect gift for a three year old boy.  I left with sadness.

Inside Toys R Us on this Friday night were parents everywhere, Santa shopping with their young kids.  Yes, you read correctly.  Tired, sleepy, cranky young kids, like 6 months to five, with their parents, crying and screaming through the store.  One mother said to her four year old son, "I know you are tired but I will be done soon.  Hang on."  Hang on?  It is nine pm lady and that kid needs to be in bed and who the hell Santa shops with their kids?  I just wanted to scream inside that store.  It has been about four years since I had been in Toys R Us and I wanted to throw up.

The Barbie isle was filled with Zombie Barbie's.  The Zombie Barbies were flying off the shelves and "Professional Barbie" was looking at me like, "Pick me, pick me."  There is every kind of Barbie in the world now.  I had a regular plain Barbie.  She bent her legs, that was it.  Skipper, same thing.  I did get a talking "Stacy', the English cousin who talked.  You pulled the string and she had six sentences all in the Kate Middleton accent.  That was it.  You turned them into who they were supposed to be.  No Zip Lining Barbie at my house.  If you wanted her to zip line, you went into my dad's tackle box, snipped some fishing line and tied it from column to column.  Furniture, thimbles for chairs, the little white thing from the pizza box as tables and Uncle Ben's Wild Rice boxes for beds with scraps of material for bed linens from my Mamaw's sewing basket.  Guess what, we didn't use an Ipad to figure all of this out.

I am totally convinced that maybe kids are smarter than I ever was, but not nearly as creative.

The section of the lovely wooden puzzles, was vacant.  Not a mom or dad standing in the isle.  I sat for hours with my kids, on the floor, putting the same wooden puzzles together, saying "duck", "cow" etc.  Every Christmas, we build a jigsaw.  As a family.  One of my favorite things I own is a jigsaw puzzle I built with my mother in law and my mom.  I even framed it.  First time ever that I framed a jogsaw.  Three women never built a jigsaw puzzle with so many obscenities.  Nobody was buying puzzles.

The hot wheels isle, empty.  The car rugs, stocked.  The little plastic car carriers, nobody bought.  No light brights, no easy bakes and no wooden kitchens.

Instead, plastic stuff, DVDs, zombies and ninjas filled the carts with parents and their kids.

I am turning into my mother.  But seriously, who Christmas shops with their kids?

Franklin and I would get a sitter, go to dinner and then see how long it took us to spend an obscene amount of money and then stop for a night cap.  It was awesome fun.  Our favorite night to celebrate being a parent.

We settled for a plastic John Deere tractor that made noise.  There were only about six little John Deere tractors in the whole store.  Broke my heart.  Only six little John Deere's on a side shelf.  Like a misfit toy.  John Deere is like a God in my family.  Six little John Deeres.

We decided to swing by the mall. There were 94 people in the Bath and Body works store all buying lotions that make you smell like peppermint bark.  Walked out.  Went back in and bought 8 bottles of soap.  Gag me.  My daughter's teacher gift idea.  Not mine.

When we got home and showed Franklin our night out, he asked, "how much fun was it?"

"None at all, OK it was fun, and the girls had fun but I am so sad."  I told him about the night and the stores and the lack of Christmas music playing and the rush and the crap and ugh, what is going on?  He laughed and said, "you are old.  You sound like your mother."

I reminded him of our Santa shopping nights, and hours of puzzle building and cookie baking and wrapping codes and the elf on the shelf and reindeer food.  I saw reindeer food for sale in the store...Seven dollars for some oatmeal and glitter.  "Remember us making that Franklin and passing out it to their classmates and what a big deal it was for our kids to make it and pass it out and then spread it on Christmas eve and then sweep it up so they knew the reindeer ate it?   It is for sale."



I took the girls the next day to make gingerbread houses.  At one point, I strolled through the store, and there sitting all alone was Santa.   I sat down and starting chatting with Santa.  Nobody was coming to chat with him, nobody sitting on his lap...he was all alone.  He told me that kids said the could talk to him on line and they didn't need to sit on his lap.  That was it, I just couldn't take it anymore.  

I stopped.  I mailed my cards but that was it.  I stopped.  I could not get my heart to move forward.

What was Christmas all about?  Where had my Christmas's gone?

Then, in a twist, my sister-in-law called to tell me they were not coming.  First time in 50 years, I would be without my brother.  Totally understood.  People had started new jobs and didn't have Friday off.  No vacation days earned or offered.  I got it.  Killed me but I got it.  Being with my brother and his family, for years,  was the source of my existence for the whole year.  No mom and dad and now no brother and his wife and kids.

Then two nights later, Charlie Brown Christmas came on television.  When I was a kid, there were three nights of the year you lived for, Wizard of Oz, Rudolph and Charlie Brown.  Your mom would get you fed, get everyone bathed and in jammies and then in front of the television before the shows began.  And, she made "real" hot chocolate with marshmallows and you were allowed to drink it out of the kitchen.  Three times a year.  The biggest nights of the year.  I call the kids down out of their caves and told them that they were going to watch this show with me.  You would have thought I was asking them to cut their fingers off in the town's square without medication.

I shared with them the story of when we were kids and they said, that is"because you lived in the olden days with three channels and no DVDs."  Correct.  And they don't know what they missed.

I continued my Charlie Brown phase and still couldn't get my act together.  And I needed to...the day was approaching.  Last day of school, teacher gifts, work, etc.  But still, nothing.

And then it happened.  I had to throw two of the kids in the car and head to the orthodontist.  My gracious nephew is the orthodontist and while his practice is in North Raleigh, it hasn't been about the teeth; it has been about the family.

In the car, my two pre teens begin to tell me that they googled "the whole Santa thing."  "There is even an You Tube video that tells parents how to explain the Santa thing to kids.They informed me that they watched the video.  Addie went to Angie's list and it "clearly says there is not a Santa."  I have NEVER been on Angie's list. Walker also said that the Elf on the Shelf was an idea invented by Hallmark because they were losing share.  Could not even believe he said that and curious to know where he heard that one, (UNCLE TODD) and so I caved.

I told the truth.  But I told them about a man in Germany, without a wife or kids who was lonely, who passed out candies into shoes.  And the danish version where the candies and treats were placed in wooden shoes.  And it became about Hope, Hope that the magic would happen again.

I told them about how I can remember going to bed on Christmas eve and how it was the longest night of the year.  Lite Brites, Easy Bake ovens and Baby Pat a Burps.  Later, it wasn't about the gifts, it was about moments.  I can still remember the morning when my mom would announce that my aunt and my mamaw and my mom were going to do the cookie baking.  Either at my aunt's house or our house.  And you know what that meant...the round Tupperware Container would be in the fridge after school with apricot cookies.  And, my mom would have tins upon tins with sugary treats stacked on the table.  The leftover jimmies from the sugar cookies would be placed downstairs on the pantry shelves and we would be allowed to use the when we played house.  Jimmies.  That was what was for dinner.

I told them about the trips to Downtown Pittsburgh to stand and look at the the store windows and to pick your food off the Reindeer menu in Kaufman's.  I always liked the Rudolph.  I told them that my mom NEVER but a tag on a gift and the day I saw the "S" on the bottom corner of a package, I knew I hit pay dirt.  I told them about going to my aunt Judy's on Christmas eve, the greatest day of the year and Christmas day at my mamaw's.  I can still hear the basement stairs creaking at we all went downstairs to eat.  I can still see my mamaw's stuffing in the same pan, and my grandfather's homemade ice cream.  He ALWAYS let me get mine first because we were ice cream lovers.  You were allowed to take one Santa gift there and we would share our gifts with our cousins.  It was the bomb.  

Christmas day, Christmas Eve Day, your Birthday, last day of school and any snow day in between were you best days of the year, in that order.

It was the bomb because we believed.  It was the bomb because my mom and dad were also relentless that is was also a birthday.  I loved the waxy candles that you lit in church with the paper bib around them while you sang Silent Night.

And I explained to them that as a parent, there are certain days that you feel like you have to "make perfect".  Christmas, birthdays, just days that you step it up so you can give   great memories too.  Those memories I have is what keeps me going for you guys.  

And we talked about HOPE.  HOPE that you have good memories.  Hope that you believe in the magic of Christmas for ever and the Hope that you keep God in your heart.  And we talked about how they stood outside and spread reindeer food and went to bed and left cookies and were certain the next day that they heard the reindeer and the even said the saw Santa using their bathroom one year.  And they too admitted that it wasn't about the gifts anymore.  They wanted the memories.  The grandparents and the Uncle Todd singing, "Chester's nuts roasting on an open fire...(everybody should have an Uncle Todd) and family.

But really, HOPE is what can keep you going.  You HOPE your friend gets well, you HOPE your son beats an addiction, you HOPE your job goes well, you HOPE people quit stop being so angry.  And I explained at the end of everyday, regardless of what kind of day you have, you will always have HOPE for a better day tomorrow.  HOPE, it is all you have.

After a quick trip to the orthodontist,  we went to visit cousin Jamie and her four children, all five and under and usually cousin Olivia too. Five kids, five and under.  A madhouse and every trip provides us with a laugh.   The kids shop for us at the Dollar Tree.  Last year I got scissors.  I look like a Scissor girl to them.  Funny thing is, I use those scissors everyday.

Anyway, I was presented with my dollar tree gift.  It was chosen because it was yellow, his favorite color and ironically mine too.  And there it was.  A dollar tree sign.  With glitter.  From a five year old.  No online shopping, no Zombies, No gluten free, no free shipping with promo code, no bank broken, no Black Friday bargain, no glitz...Just HOPE.

Hope on a stick.  Hope in your heart.  Hope at the beginning of the day.  Hope at the end of the day.  Hope, that is all you need.  Hope...it is what all of this season is really about.

Merry Christmas.  

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Thankful for Recipes

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Thankful for Recipes: Thanksgiving was never my thing.  And then I married into a family that was all about the meal and all about the family.  Year by year, turk...

Thankful for Recipes

Thanksgiving was never my thing.  And then I married into a family that was all about the meal and all about the family.  Year by year, turkey breast by turkey breast, my husband changed my attitude toward Thanksgiving.

Tonight I counted the plates, made my list and surfed the web one more time to see if there was a new, exciting recipe that still may be out there after my 42,000 other rides in the cyber recipe land.

And it is here.  Another year.  Another turkey.

When I started this blog, it was really my recipe for mental peace and acceptance.  Later, it became about the recipe for my son and his recovery and his future and again about his recovery and his future and once more about his recovery and future.  This recipe was a bit harder to master.

And then it became about a recipe for life.

Last year on Thanksgiving, my "button" was supposed to be away at school.  I had no idea he had dropped out and I had no idea where he was, what he was doing or if he was even alive.  But, I had recipes.  Great recipes.  And Hope for dessert.

In a world of "smart" everything, my favorite recipes are the ones that my mom, my mamaw or my great grandma Emma have written on plain white index cards. Nothing fancy on those index cards...just plain old handwritting.  Some of them have cake batter splattered on them, things spilled on them or they are smudged.

Most of these recipes have been prepared hundreds of times for family functions for generations.  

My mom is famous for writing things like "some baking soda" or "T when it really means t".

My mamaw would write things like "make this stiff...you know...like a man's thing"....not kidding...in the middle of the recipe.  And then my great grandmother would write with loopy penmanship..."a hunk of butter".  Sometimes you would really have to examine the recipes because they would forget things, really important things, like flour, in a cake recipe.  

But these recipes were awesome, still are. 

In prepping for this Thanksgiving...my kids told me that they wanted "that rice and mushroom dish, fancy green bean casserole (similar to a classy Walmart) and the green things with the bacon.  Oh, and the pineapple stuff. Don't forget the cauliflower thing either."

I was shocked at their memories. 

And then I thought about it.  I would walk 500 miles in my bare feet for my mamaw's gingerbread, my great grandma's peanut butter fudge and my mom's strawberry jello salad and chicken salad.

I guess when you are searching for all these recipes, you are just really laying the base for memories.

Three years ago when the "hell" was in full force with "the button", I put on my big girl panties before Thanksgiving and decided to go for it and to stop being a turkey.  Thanksgiving was our first holiday with the "button" in summer camp.

I bought special Thanksgiving plates.  The kids were with me.  After you take your kids to summer camp to visit their older brother in orange, you need to cheer yourselves up.  We went to  TJ Maxx, every female's  non pharmaceutical upper.  The three of us found Thanksgiving plates marked down to three dollars, platters, pitchers, salt and pepper shakers and a matching three dollar table cloth.  Nothing says success more than a red price tag on something you love at TJ Maxx.  Talk about being grateful!  We danced out of that store singing, "three dollars, three dollars, three dollars makes you holler."  

Two years after our pay dirt at TJ Maxx....all of the plates will be set at the Thanksgiving table on the three dollar tablecloth.

This year, I know where "the button" is...living down the street in his own place, working with and for his dad and I speak to him daily.  And he is well.  Not the recipe I would have chosen for him, but he is happy with his choice.   He is walking forward.

I asked the "button" if there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving.  "A seat and a plate."

I don't know what I was thankful for three years ago.  I don't remember.  But I do know what I am thankful this year.

This year I am thankful...

That I have both my breasts. After years of hating them, I still have them and they are cancer free. So many of my friends do not.  

I am thankful that I have my parents. I will speak to them on Thanksgiving and hear their voices. They will know who I am.  Most of my friends have just lost a parent or both.

I am thankful that all of my three dollar plates and my three dollar table cloth will be used at my table.  It means all my family is there.

I am thankful that my husband and I will no doubt have the big holiday fight.  I have a husband that cares.

I am grateful that I haven't finished the paint job in my house. I haven't finished because my life is full and I didn't have enough time to finish.  It will not be the focus or the highlight of the day.  I am thankful that I am not stressing over it.

And I am thankful that my feet will hurt and my back will ache and the end of the day.  I am just blessed that I have two feet to stand on and a back to keep me up.

Name calling, my kids will call each other names and belch. (That infuriates me).  Name calling and belching means they are here and I have never had to bury a child.  I will take the belching.

Thanksgiving Prayers, my precious Walker will say the blessing.  I am so thankful that my children speak to God. 

And...I am thankful for recipes.  Recipes form great women who made me who I am today. And filled my heart with healthy and gooey sweetness from holidays gone by.

Thanksgiving rocks.

Whatever your favorite recipe may be...hope you get plenty.  Happy Thanksgiving.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Because I knew you...Skip Waters.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Because I knew you...Skip Waters.: I've heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led To those who help us...

Because I knew you...Skip Waters.

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...
I have heard the lyrics to this song one hundred times and they mean more to me now...since the passing of Skip Waters.

Very simply put, he was a magical person.  He is THAT person that some never get the privilege of knowing.  I am so blessed that I did.

Skip was the Chief Meteorologist for 32 years at WCTI TV in Eastern North Carolina. Thirty two years at any job is a feat...but it was not the length of tenure that mattered here...it is what he DID with those 32 years.

One night, after most of the eight to fivers had left the building, Skip was at the copier.  We were chatting.  Our personal connection was swimming.  And, YMCA's.  I told Skip that if I ever won the lottery, I would build a big swimming and diving center at the high school where my kids attended and everyone, regardless of age or income, could learn to swim for free.  

Skip was in.  He would retire and be the teacher.  We laughed, who wouldn't want to take swimming lessons from a guy whose last name was WATERS?  We had a name, Waters Waves.  We loved it.


Shortly after our we developed our business, (ha ha) I asked him a question.  "Skip, on a daily basis, I get asked how you know all the streets in all the towns all over the viewing area, how do you know this stuff?  What is the secret?

He laughed and said, "there is no secret."  

"When I came to work here, my mom gave me two pieces of advice...Be the first one at work and the last to leave and act like you are busy when you are there...if you are not busy...create something to make you busy and NEVER go to work on the same streets and Never leave work on the same streets as the day before.  Even though I thought I knew it all, I was smart enough to listen to my mom.  I drove the streets and looked at them through the eyes of weather...were there hills to create flooding, big trees that could lose limbs and go through roofs, I looked at how the trees were shaped to know how the wind blew, I looked at mold on houses and where siding was torn off, I looked at side streets that couldn't handle water.  And, my dogs like to ride in the car."

I remember seeing Skip leaving the Christmas parade last year on Emerald Isle.  I knew the route for departure.  I saw Skip on the other side of the departure route, going up and down streets.  I knew what he was doing.

Thirty one years in the business and still mastering his trade.  He never stopped.

And in that single moment, I changed.  I had a chance to re invent myself in my early 50's.  A blessing.  And if he was going to continue to learn and grow and master his trade, so was I .  Skip made me step it up.

It doesn't matter what your resume says, or what your GPA was or what certifications you have, if you do not have passion, wrapped in commitment, you really just have a job, not a career.

A few years ago, I went out on a limb and asked my boss if the boy scouts could watch a news broadcast.  He kindly said yes.  The boys would come in, watch the news and leave.  Those were the arrangements.

Instead, they came in, watched the news, had the chance to ask a few questions and then Skip came around the corner, took the boys to his desk, showed them his weather computer, gave them a book, signed each book and had his picture taken with each boy and their parents.  He wasn't asked, but he did.  Above and beyond.

I have had people say to me, "I am crying, I am so sad and I felt like I knew him."

You did.  When you sat there in your t-shirt and underwear, without makeup, he was there with you.  When he did the weather, in that calming voice, he was really speaking to you and only you.  When you were making dinner and signing agendas, he was there, in your kitchen with you.   When you were in your nightgown, laying in bed, he was there.  He was speaking to you.

And when you left your house and strolled through the Seafood or the Mumfest, he was there.

Always happy, always smiling.  Always taking a chance to meet and speak to someone new.  And it was innate.  Skip knew no other way.  It didn't matter what his ratings were, he was never going to quit.  He was so passionate.  He was so committed.  Not just to his career, but he was committed to others.

In a world of electronic gadgets, skyping interviews and instagram accounts, it was the personal connection that made Skip a legend.  The smiles, the photos, the shaking of hands.  Personal connection.   Knowing the streets and the trees on the streets where people lived made a difference.  He looked you in the eye and shook your hand.  Personal connection was the key.


There are very few people who have this innate passion and commitment for what they do.  Skip "loved what he did and did what he loved."  I don't know very many people like this.  

And the most refreshing thing about Skip to me was, he knew he was privileged.  He knew he had a great career, in a fabulous part of the state with viewers that adored him and he didn't take it for granted.  Instead, he appreciated every aspect and worked harder and harder everyday, every broadcast.  He appreciated what he had created.  He was blessed and appreciative.  Humble.  He knew that he "did what he loved and loved what he did" and he cherished every moment.  

I loved that about him.

Yesterday, when I was leaving work, there were people constructing a shrine...and I heard a petite elderly lady say..."Skip made me want to learn about weather and at my age, to keep learning is a good thing."

Skip, I think it is safe to say, we knew you were magical and we knew that our lives were better because we knew you.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Hut one, Hut two, Hike! The love of Football!

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Hut one, Hut two, Hike! The love of Football!: Sunday  evening, I found myself in downtown Charlotte, along with Franklin, Walker and Addie.  The kids were attending their "first Ste...