Eventful weekend round here. Friday, I don't remember.

Must have been eventful though. Saturday, the MOG ran sound for a wedding and I took the littles with assistance from Han. That was a stupid idea. Weddings are quiet, and long. Man, that was a stupid idea. We went to the reception, but it was moving at a pretty leisurely pace and I was bout to die of hunger and a mystery illness so we left after an hour or so and went to Sonic and then home, where everybody got a fever and an attitude and collapsed screaming and such.

This continued on into Sunday, where we skipped church so everybody could stand on my feet and scream "Stop LOOKING at me, Brynn!" "I NOT NO LOOK NO YOU! Errrrrrrr!" and so on. R2 mainly made frustrated guttural noises and frantically signed "toilet" which is his new repetitive sign that he does not mean. It's kind of like making conversation, with increasing franticness depending on the situation. Then Richy (sr) had a 6 hour meeting so I continued NOT chilling with all the sick children of the world.

Today, I took R2 to the doc and confirmed what I already knew - strep throat. Dadgummit. We then we to Target and if I could keep typing I would give a ringing endorsement for Target pharmacies, but we have a home group tonight and I alone in all of the earth am responsible for cleaning up this place. (oh, and I escaped today for 2 hours and spent 6 bucks at the thrift, so I'm pretty content)

Technically, I should be updating my fictional story today, but I am too overcome with goodness . Here's the backstory, facebook style. (click to enlarge)

8:30 am, the doorbell rings. FedEx, with a box of joy, aka, 4 jars of salsa. I was so happy I sat right down and had a bowl with some chips. Brynn was quick to join me. I then made myself wait a few hours and had another bowl. Seriously. best. salsa. ever.

If any of you see Julie Davis, I would say give her a big kiss, but she's not so much into the kissing. Just tell her she's awesome and then hire her husband to fix your computers.

Glory.

It's been a busy couple of days here at the ol radiant house... the MOG came back from his trip on Monday afternoon, and then we ran around like the proverbial chicken (my apologies, Beth and Eva) doing errands and such that we always have to do when the Man is back... then Tuesday night R2 had a sleep study. This has been scheduled for months and months, and so I was looking forward to it, even though hospital sleep is no sleep at all.

Why a sleep study? Well, you can read the link up there for other reasons, but our main concern is sleep apnea. R2 tends to stop breathing for several seconds on a regular basis while he is sleeping. Not breathing is not acceptable around here, unless you are just saving up your breath for a good solid screaming fit, or trying to make it through a particularly bad diaper change.

We left the house at 6:30 with R2 in very high spirits due to pancakes for dinner, and the joy of getting to get in the van while Toby didn't. You know that scene in Hope Floats (tissue alert!) where the little girl runs by her daddy's car screaming for him to take her with him? Toby kinda did that, which thrilled R2, because the vengeance and triumph section of his brain is quite functional.

He remained cheery and upbeat while we waited and waited and waited to get in, and then he sat on a chair and chuckled through Sesame Street episodes while they attached... man... like 20 something wires to him.
It took over an hour and then they wrapped him all up in stretchy bandage stuff and made a big wire ponytail. Still, he was a pretty happy guy. She started getting on his nerves when she put in the nasal cannula, but whatever, lady. The nurse was great, really gentle and trying to give R2 lots of warning before she did anything, but he was mainly disgruntled that she was talking during his show.

So finally, it was time for him to go to sleep. I had to go and wait in a lounge, because they try to set up his normal sleep routine, i.e. alone in the dark. I sat in the lounge and read a book and ate a candy bar and waited, and then in an hour or so I went in the control room to see if he was asleep yet. He was, kinda. Except that there were wires taped to him everywhere and he was not in his bed and there was something sticking in his nose and every time he took it out the lady had to come back and put it back in.

Oh, so they have a camera over his bed, and they can close up on his wires and his chest or mouth or whatever to keep an eye on him. The camera doesn't reach over in the corner, where I "sleep" but the audio feed does. What? Yes, they have a mic on the room, which is kinda awkward when you are talking to your kid, or flushing the toilet or whatever.

He wiggled around for what seemed like hours, and then we "slept" for 8 hours or so, with a nurse with a flashlight coming in every hour or so to reattach stuff, or adjust.

Around 7 am, they came in and woke us up and kicked us out, after another traumatic blood draw. From the minute he woke up, he was signing "school" so after I took him home and cleaned most of the glue and such from his hair, I gave in and let him go to school. We should get the results from the testing back in 2 weeks... stay tuned.

Blogging here on the go, as I have my opportunity for two hours alone staring me in the face, and I will KISS that opportunity.

The MOG got back yesterday from a 6 day trip, bless the Lamb and just in time, since Toby was pretty much at that stage of punching random strange men just to get some male attention. Almost.

In other news, we saw a very large mouse yesterday. I am still calling it a mouse because I cannot bear to call it the other word... anyways, I think we are getting a cat. Soon.

And that's it. QUality blog tomorrow, but now I must away to Happy Hour Coca-Cola at Sonic and the thrift store. Wahooooo!

The other segments of this story are over in the sidebar, if you haven't read them yet, or need a refresher.

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So me and Jimmy are making a plan to get to Mexico. My job is to find out where the TV studio is, and make enough money to pay for gas and food, and plan the time and Jimmy’s job is to find somebody to stay with when we get down there. He says he knows a lot of people living in Mexico right now. Sometimes it seems like a good idea not to ask Jimmy too many questions.

I got to pick up a bunch of extra shifts this week, due to my friend Beth winning a hundred and fifty bucks in the lotto and then taking the week off. That’s good money, but now I am pretty wore out. I picked up some chicken and fries for me and little Hank, and I thought maybe tonight I’d watch one of Mama’s soaps all the way through and see if maybe it says on there somewhere where they’re making them.

I tell you, I thought things was messed up here in our little Texas town. It don’t even compare to the mess over there in Mexico. I mean, from what I can tell, one guy was in love with the cleaning lady, and she had to be 40 years older than him… and this one lady had a baby, but then while she was sleeping in a big beautiful bed all with silk and lace and stuff, this other lady come in there and was looking inside the crib all evil, and then she had some kinda flashback of her running down the beach after this guy, but he didn’t hear her or something and then she was back, looking at the baby and muttering something. No good, that one. I don’t speak Spanish, but I can tell a rotten apple.

I was just kinda getting into the show when this scary music starts up, and that guy I remember from before- the one who was mad at Mama, comes storming down the hall of the hospital, just mad as all get-out and all the nurses with their cleavage are all scared and talking fast Spanish trying to follow him and then he throws open the door and there is Mama, laying all beautiful and still in a hospital bed, with a oxygen thingy in her nose. For a minute I forgot it was a soap and I was a little worried that Mama was dying or in a coma or something in real life, but then I remembered. So this guy, Rico, he falls down on his knees and he’s holding her hand and telling her to come back or something, and she’s just laying there and then he looks around all crazy and runs out. And then it shows Mama laying there all still and one tear running down her cheek. I didn’t even realize I was crying until the show was over.

And that’s when it hit me. Amnesia. Mama probably has amnesia, and she don’t even remember us. It all makes sense now.

It might seem like Toby gets more than his fair share of time here on the ol' blog. I worry about that sometimes. The thing is, he's the first kid we've had that's done the normal things on the normal schedule. So that makes us those annoying parents that are unable to talk about anything but our amazing wonderful kid.

It's a deep thing in me. I love learning, and I love teaching. All of my life I have devoured information, and I reveled in being smart, from a smart family. And then I had R2, and he was beautiful and weak and strong and broken. I died a little bit when I realized he would never (without a miracle) learn to read.

So, Toby. Toby is really, really smart. Toby is teaching himself to read. He's 3, and he will be reading by the end of the year. It just... it hits me in the heart, something I so desperately wanted and didn't even realize. He pulls information out of me all day long, and not just random talking. He actually wants to understand, and then retains what I tell him.

Today, he drew his first real picture. He sat down at the table and decided to draw Daniel. He kept yelling to Daniel in the living room, "Hey Daniel! Do you have snaps on your shirt?" and such. "Hey Daniel! Do you have arms?" A few minutes later he came in with this drawing. I don't know if it's advanced, or delayed, or normal. It's just, to me, amazing. I've been near tears about it all afternoon and I don't even really know why. Just richness.

the MOG is, as we speak, in North Carolina. Well, as far as I know, anyway. Not that I think he lies about where he is... more that those little states are tricky and sometimes when you walk across the street to get a Coke, you find out you're in Kentucky or something. So, he is likely in North Carolina.

The Radiants will join him on Friday, but the host church flew him up early to give him time to pray at the Mystical Rock of Wonders... actually, it's this giant rock where the Moravians prayed for like, a hundred years. He went there 10 years ago and so he is really excited in a monkish-calm sort of way about going back. So anyways, he's there alone till Friday, when the band, sans me, flies in and ministers over the weekend. All the services will be webstreamed and I'll put the links up on here when I get them.

I don't normally advertise his absences, but he already put it all over the interwebs, so what the heck. I'm sure it's going to be awesome ministry.

In other news, after staying up late packing trash (Richy and Han) and then driving early to get more trash tags (Han) and then packing up more trash and dragging it way, way out to the curb (me), the trash guys decided to take it easy and have not yet arrived. Normally, they're here at like 7 am Wednesdays. Ah, cest la vie....

I have to go pick up the Elder Son from school now, as his bus has not kicked in yet... I forgot today was early release and I was having a nice leisurely blog.... ah, well.

If all goes well, the MOG will put the trash out tonight for the first time in 3 weeks. It's tricky, our lives. He works through the weekend most of the time, and then we might have a day off on a Tuesday or something. It makes for a confusing week, and often we have to think deeply to remember what day it is. So the trash... she has piled up a bit.

Plus, Richy often thinks of holy things, and subsequently puts the peanut butter in the freezer and such. Today, he made a pot of coffee, with no coffee, i.e., water. He thinks, when we lie on the ground laughing at his shenanigans, that we think he is not smart. He is very smart, just not so much at the multi-tasking.

So that makes the trash challenging. The goal tonight, pile it all up on the curb, pray off any beast of the trash-eating variety, and then wait for the glorious pickup. Then, bomb the garage with insecticide.

I know this is fascinating material. You can't get stuff like this anywhere else. Stay tuned to see if the trash gets picked up!

The other branch of the Clark family has, as far as I know, landed safely in the vicinity of Montgomery County, TX. We had a very busy and refreshing 5 days or so, and I was so glad to get to spend time with them!! Several months ago, we cracked down on a no-more-debt policy and that has made it difficult to get back and forth to Texas as often. So it was great to have family come to us, and SO AWESOME that we easily housed 8 extra people without it ever feeling too crowded or too nuts. I heart this house SO MUCH.

This morning, R2 started 5th grade. It's pretty surreal because he is the size of a 5 year old, so I never think of him as 10... so 5th grade just sounds silly. He was crazy excited all morning, signing "yes" (which he is convinced means "school") and jumping around. I took him up there and dropped him off, then went to the office and did more paperwork. His classroom has big windows out to the front sidewalk, and when I was walking to the car, I saw him in there with the other little special guys, and they were clapping their hands to music and he was just jumping around everywhere. It does my heart good to see him so happy there, and I LOVE his new teacher.




It rained hard all morning long, and it was just so cozy in the house with all the windows and the rain and most of the lights turned off by Mr. Frugal Frugality and just the two babies puttering around, and Han coming in and out of rooms eating an apple. I love rainy peaceful lazy days. I just get in various comfy places with books. Cats have it good.

went to zoo.
9 kids
14, 13, 10, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and 8 weeks
4 adults
2 double strollers
1 baby leash
1 Baby Bjorn carrier
14 peanut butter sandwiches, bags of chips, bottled waters
1 ham and cheese for Ruby Allergic
90 degrees outside
420000 square miles to walk pushing strollers
animals
fun
frivolity
enchantment
sweat
screaming
emotional collapse
drove home
failed nap attempt
8 o'clock is gonna ROCK

I haven't blogged in a day or two, because a bevy of Clarks and a Joy have descended on my house. They are great!! I have missed this family so much, especially STEPHANIE. Today Eva kept all the kids except baby Max and Steph and I got to go grocery shopping and have lunch and hit the thrift store... it was awesome to be able to talk freely and for a long time!

Han comes back tonight, and I am stoked to have her back too, it's been lonely around here! So that's it, no real updates except it's noisy and busy and beautiful around here!!

A couple of weeks ago, we had professional pics taken by Shelley Paulson. She took a lot of the band, and individual shots too. They rock, look at a couple. Shelley is awesome, hire her!

I always planned on homeschooling my kids. In fact, I tried to homeschool R2, but he is developmentally like 2 years old, and my efforts were always short-lived and frustrating. So last year, at 9 years old, we enrolled him in public school for the first time. He loved it, so, gravy.

Well, first we tried to enroll him, and they kept wanting shot records. We went to ONE clinic from the time Richy was born until Toby was born, so, six years. Somehow, that clinic did not have his records. "Don't you have your card?" they asked me. Like I am going to hang on to a random unneeded paper for 9 years. No, no I don't have a copy. "It's not here, it's in medical records." they tell me. So I call Medical Records and am given various runarounds and actually mailed some records from somebody else's chart, and they don't have it and can't find it and already mailed it, twice. Bull. Last year the school let us get one make-up shot and then accepted him, on the condition that I get the records. Easier said than done.

One year I have been arguing with these people, and finally the heavens open and a lady from The Clinic of No Records gives me the name of the Supervisor of Medical Records. One YEAR and this woman gets me the records in ONE day. God Bless Saundra Jeffries, and give her money. Amen.

So now I have been trying for 2 weeks to enroll R2 in his new school, and have been sent back home 3 times for more records, and now I finally, finally have those records and the school is closed. Office locked, teachers missing.

I call my contact on the inside, and find out he has to enroll at the new school, because that's our district now, but he will actually attend the old school, in his old classroom with his familiar teacher. This is great news! Plus, my contact kinda greased the works and I think we should be good to start Thursday morning with all the other kids. Wahoo!

The MOG made the mistake of asking R2 if he wanted to go back to school on Saturday, just as a hypothetical- like to see if he started gnashing his teeth and screaming, then we would think, okay, maybe school is not a good thing. Instead, he took the sign for "yes" to mean "school" and has been obsessively signing "yes" for 4 days now. We tried to teach him the real sign for "school" but he told us, whispering, "No, this means school" (signing "yes"). So, okay, he's communicating. We can work with that.

Only one and half more days of explaining there is no school today!

13 years ago today, a 17 and an 18 year old were driving away from a church, married. In fact, we were laughing and freaking out that we pulled it off. We got MARRIED and we were just teenagers. We laughed all the way to our honeymoon.

We held hands and jumped into youth ministry, together. We filled our apartment up with teenagers and taught them how to laugh, and love despite their pain.

We stopped laughing when R2 was born at 24 weeks, and then my dad died. We learned how to cry together then, and how to laugh through the tears. R2 taught us how to laugh for no reason. We held hands, side by side as our twins made a very brief stop on earth before returning to heaven. Together, we went to the deepest places in the valley of the shadow of death.

A little while later, we worked together, Richy with his piano and a desperate heart, and me with a passion to find peace and wait for Tobias. We made it! Together, we wept with the richness of holding our victory baby. Night after night we lay in bed with him in between us, marveling.

To add to our riches, we were given a tiny fairy princess. Every day our eyes meet, together celebrating the uniqueness and the beauty of Brynn.

Once again, we held hands and jumped across the country- into the next chapter. Here we have learned how to lean on each other, befriend each other, dream again together. This is a rich, rich season of peace and transition, of learning to hear God and to believe- together.

And we're laughing again, as our house fills up with people. Oh, the joy of being us!

Happy 13th anniversary, Richy. I love you.

The other parts of the story are over there in the sidebar!

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My name is Jimmy. You could call me James, but the last guy who did that found hisself looking real close at the insides of a toilet at the pool hall. Like I said, my name is Jimmy.

I am the only man in a family full of females. After Grandma died and Mama run off, it was just me and my kid sister Jenny. Didn’t seem like the griping let up any, even with two less women. You know that high-pitched noise you get when there’s a TV on somewhere, and it just keeps going? That’s kinda like Jenny.

Lately, she’s been carrying on and on about Mama being in Mexico, and we have to go and find her, and she needs my help and for me to quit watching the game and talk to her when all I wanna do is drink my ONE beer and watch the game. I work all day long and then I come home to this whining. If I wanted to be married, I would be. Man shouldn’t have to put up with this from his sister. Actually, one time I almost got married and Jenny ruined that for me. Chased off a real nice girl.

Finally I just had enough and I said,” Fine, fine whatever. We’ll go to Mexico. You, and me and little Hank. Just get out of my hair and shut up.” She was so happy she hugged me and near to knocked my pizza off my TV tray. Then I watched this rest of the game.

Wadn’t till I woke up this morning that I started to thinking. What was Mama doing in Mexico? After she ran off years ago, I figured she’d probably die fairly quick, given her taste in men, not to mention she had the sense of a squirrel. I doubt she wants to be found, since we have been right here for 5 years and she never tried to find us. And what was Jenny planning on doing once we found her? Just sittin down for a nice chat? What had I got myself into and how was I gonna get out of it? And what had that pitcher been thinking when he threw that last pitch? You’d think they’d have professionals throwin these balls…

After a fairly lazy morning of reading my novel in bed while Toby played with Starfall (how I love thee, Starfall), I received a phone call from our friend Liz. She was having chest pains and was headed in to the ER at the urging of her doctor. She is single, and was mostly letting us know because single people tend to alarm all their friends by not being around and then we all think maybe they died, and we're going to have to go break in the door and find out.

So anyways, we did some kid wrangling and decided me and Toby would head down to the ER to make sure Liz was okay and keep her company and such. I usually take Toby because he follows commands pretty well when we're out in public, and Richy and Bean follow commands pretty well when we're at home. Not so much the vicey-versy.

I plugged the address into the ol' GPS and we set off. Toby has been a backseat driver since he was 1 or so, and the GPS has made it way, way worse. "Bear left", says the aristocratic GPS man. "BEAR LEFT!! MOMMY! BEAR LEFT! ARE YOU BEARING LEFT?"

"Exit left in 400 yards", he says.

"IS IT FORHUNNER ARDS? MOMMY! YOU HAVE TO EXIT! IS THIS THE ROAD? DID WE EXIT? I SAW A STOP SIGN!"

I assure him that I can hear the man, and I am doing what he says. Toby's not buying it. "Is this the hopsital? You have to turn here... we have reached our DET SIN ATION!"

Today, I pulled in the ER parking garage, which is evidently only for police and ambulances. The wounded have to park down the street and carry their appendages a half mile, I guess.

I try to steer clear of the police, due to an expired registration, so I was sweating it a little as I drove past 3 or 4 bored cops just looking for trouble, i.e., Me.

"What those policemans doing? Why aren't you parking? This is a parking garage. You passed up the hopsital. YOU PASSED UP THE HOPSITAL."

"I know, Toby, I just need to.... I have to find somewhere to park..." as I nearly turn the wrong way on a one-way street.

"You can park there, Mommy. You passed it up."

"I can't park there, it's only for ambulances."

"It's only for ambulances? Why it's only for ambulances? Why you driving far far away? You have reached your det sin ation. Bear left. Are you turning right? Why you don't want any more questions? Are you a little bit lost? Can you park here? Where is the hopsital? Does Liz have a ouchie? Where is her ouchie? Where is the doctor? Is Liz getting a toy from Old Mcdonald's? Are you parking? Are you parking? Why you stopping? Can we park here?"

I pull up to a line of parking meters, and a sign that says 3 hour parking M-F. Does that mean it's free those days? I sit for a minute, trying to decide what to do.

"Why we waiting? Is this parking? Can we park here? What's that man doing? Why that machines have red signs? What are you doing with that money? Can I have that money?" as I feed the quarters into the meter.

We went in, asked after Liz and were denied entry to her room due to Toby not being 15 yet. If you ask me, he's pretty close. So we sat in the waiting area and I texted Liz while holding an ongoing press conference for Toby. She's okay, by the way, or at least it wasn't a heart attack, so that's good news.

I then tried to listen to Rush Limbaugh on the drive home, but Rush has some stiff competition in the backseat, so instead I took a pretty extensive quiz on IF Old MacDonald Haves a Farm was a daytime song, or a nighttime song, and then ABCs and then Twinkle twinkle little star, and then some heavy questioning on what were some other daytime songs.

I'm tired.

Toby has stopped taking naps. This is alarming for multiple reasons. 1) I need Toby to take a nap 2) I need Brynn to take a nap, and that is unlikely with Toby wailing, or playing the drums, or "going potty" 20 times. 3) Toby still kinda needs a nap, or else he turns into whichever half of Jekyll and Hyde is the bad guy.

Now, I have tried in recent weeks to force a nap, with beatings* and threats, and about 3 times a week, I manage to make him lie down long enough to actually fall asleep. That's great, until it's bedtime and he wreaks havoc until midnight, which not only bothers Brynn, who shares a room with him and likes her beauty sleep, but it also bothers me and makes me turn into a shrieking Wal-Mart mom.

So I am trying some other options. 1) I take him with me on nap-time errands, whilst the MOG stays home with the nappers. 2) I have him attempt "quiet time", which is mostly an epic FAIL.

Currently, he is locked in his room, allowed to play quietly and not nap as long as he is quiet. He managed that for a good 10 minutes before he gave the cymbals a good crashing run, slammed open the door and went potty, dropping the lid forcefully and slamming the door on the way back out. He then hung out in the stairwell by his door, talking loudly to himself. I went up there to reason with him about the parameters of quiet time, and he was in the buff.

Now I am in a quandary. Is this the hill I want to die on? Is nekkid quiet time good enough for me, or will I require clothing as a part of quiet time? Having given it some thought, I retreated back down here to the couch. Nekkid works. Whatever, just quiet.

One of the downsides of this is he will be emotionally unstable from 5 pm to 8. He will lie on the floor and wail because his sandwich is diagonal, and he will do things like take the purple crayon away from Bean and go lock himself in R2's room with it while she bangs on the door and screams.

But, the glorious reality is, he is mortal, and when I put him to bed at 8 with kisses and hugs and menacing threats, he will not argue, because he will be too tired. Glory.

*not beatings

Today R2 and I went to the neurologist, for a follow-up visit for his last seizure, 3 or 4 months ago. The neuros name is Dr. Jean Baptiste LePichon, and that name is RULE. I usually sing a little Le Poisson in my head whilst I wait. Le Poisson, le poisson, how I love le poisson... and so on. Dr LePichon is great. He seems to be on a continual quest to find out what is going on in Richy's brain, literally.

I love the hospital here, the doctors, the clinics. It's all just world-class and everybody seems to want to help R2. This is amazing, because in Houston we had kinda settled into maintenance mode, only dealing with issues on a crisis basis. So here, they are testing for all kinds of stuff, plus we got the new eye last year, just in general being very proactive. I heart it.

So, as usual we wait in the waiting room, which is always an interesting experience. We shared the room today with a very, very large boy in a wheelchair and his fairly large granny, also in a wheelchair, and various other family members, not in wheelchairs.

People are so interesting. All 4 adults kept Caleb pretty busy rolling around the waiting room to make space for more patients...he was pretty longsuffering, and barking at Caleb might be pretty much par for the course. Most of the time, you don't know what's wrong with someone, and you can't ask. (although, when R2 was little, rude people would frequently say "What's wrong with him?" in the checkout line at the grocery store. I always wanted to answer, "what's wrong with you?")

And then we waited in the office, gave the same ol' info to the decoy doc, and then finally Jean Baptiste LePichon came in for his turn. He is such an interesting guy. He talks to Richy with such kindness and warmth, and then he is much more reserved with me. Today he was doing his exam, and was kinda hanging out at the left eye, when I mentioned that it was prosthetic. He was so interested, and then he went and got a resident and brought him in for a pop quiz. "Don't tell him anything!" he told me . So the resident examined him and then said that the left eye didn't move quite right, and the pupil was non-responsive. I was laughing, and Dr LP congratulated him... it was great because I used to be cohorts with doctors in the NICU, and it was fun to do that again.

Just to contribute to the overuse of the word "interesting" today, I'll say it again. He suggested something interesting- that possibly R2's seizures, and physical issues are a genetic abnormality, rather than cerebral-palsy based. It's something he wants to explore, since his study of R2's brain scans don't show clear reasons for his issues.

So we went down to the lab and had blood taken, and that was traumatic, so we went and had a Happy Meal, and then he laughed all the way home. That's why they call it a Happy Meal.

Previous parts to this story HERE

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Now, this is Mama talking here again. I left off telling y’all bout my mama dying, and leaving behind some cash. Like I said, I was shocked. How many times had I asked her for a loan and got turned down? Too many. She tended to carry on about me getting a job, and I considered it more than once, mind you. But I tend to be delicate, I get sick a lot and my back is pretty weak, so it just never worked out for me. Leastwise, in this town.

When she took sick and went into the nursing home, we knew it wouldn’t be long. Folks don’t tend to live real long in the nursing home here in town. So when the call came, course I was just shattered, but I couldn’t say I hadn’t seen it coming.

Well, the night after my mama died, I went through her room, just reminiscing, you know. I read her journals, went through her mail, looked through her jewelry- I think I was just trying to feel close to her again. Me and Mama was close. Just about to killed me when she passed. I knew I had to carry on, for the children. Well, I call them children. They were nearly grown, Jimmy about 18 and Jenny, oh, 14 or so. Imagine my surprise as I was going through Mama’s underwear drawer and I found a big envelope full of cash. I just sat down on the floor and cried, then I started thinking.

The fact was, my kids had never had any money. They were born poor, and they were pretty happy poor. I on the other hand, was miserable. It was almost like I could hear my mama speaking from the funeral home, “I just want you to be happy, Daisy. Just go on and be happy.” So that was that. I started making a plan to go on out there and find happiness, just like Mama woulda wanted.