Pregnant? That’s A Joke Right? June 1, 2014

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant.  I remember exactly where I was.

I was smoking a cigarette outside after church (yes I went to church) and it made me sick. I had been smoking for years and I never remembered lighting up making me feel so ill, like I was going to pass out. My girlfriend that was with me said “you’ve been feeling weird lately, are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

I laughed.

The idea of me being pregnant was a joke. I was married at the time, but we weren’t each other’s biggest fans.

That was a Sunday.

Tuesday I bought a pregnancy test.

My girlfriend was with me when I found out that I was going to be a mother.

I sobbed. I thought of every despicable thing that I had done over the last few weeks (which I later found out was approximately two months.)  I thought, I’m not ready.

Is anyone ever really ready?

Fast forward fifteen years.

Fifteen years. I’m tough, but fifteen years?

I remember when I was fifteen and what assholes I thought my parents were.

My son is named after Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Kameron with a “K” because I decided he was going to have to spell his last name for everyone for the rest of his life, so why not add that exclamation point?  “Yes, I’m Kameron with a “K”…

After all he’s my son; I don’t play small ball.

It’s been so hard for me to watch him become a man. It’s so hard.

Tonight he asked me what time he was born (I have no idea why.) I told him he was born at 7:47 pm in room 2020. He looked at me and I told him “I always said you would be a pilot, with perfect vision.” He laughed and walked away; I was immediately transported to that moment when I knew life would never be the same.

My son, he’s such a good man.

I don’t know how it happened, I wish I could take all the credit, but I can’t.

• Johnno – Thank you for everything, we miss you so much, every day.
• Mr. D.  – You are the definition of a good man, I am so thankful that Kameron has you as a role model.
• Mr. Clady – Thank you so much for believing in Kameron, you are a fantastic inspiration to everyone.

I can’t wait to see what Kameron does in the years to come…. I’m sure it will be expensive.

 

 

Social Media Is About Friends January 25, 2014

Remembering Gordo

My Uncle Gordon “Gordo” passed away on Monday. Our family knew he was not doing well, but the undeniable event landed right in our lap Monday around 3 p.m. When my Cousin asked me “what do we do? We have 30 people coming into town and I have to handle the funeral arrangements. Can you get the food together? I said yes, and without a thought I messaged my friend Russ . Inside info on Russ, he’s an awesome guy, his wife Kate are completely adorable.

All I did was message Russ that I needed his help, I needed this to be a seamless, low key, no problem type of deal, Russ delivered in a huge way, for that my family that we will be forever grateful.

The ceremony was truly beautiful, but the execution at Thr3e Wish Men was as good as it gets. Everyone had what they wanted, food was awesome, drinks were full, it felt like there was nothing else that could have possibly been done.  http://www.thr3ewisemen.com

Thanks Russ, you came through for us when we really needed it!   

Broccoli Soup January 15, 2014

That’s right veggy fans, Broccoli Soup!

As much as I would like to take full credit for this recipe I can’t. All the credit goes to Gordon Ramsay (you might have heard of him.) That gorgeous, half crazy, chef that I can’t seem to get enough of. Over Christmas while I was Googleing his Beef Wellington preparation I happened on this broccoli soup recipe and thought; there is NO WAY it’s that simple. As a dare to myself I decided to make the soup to debunk the recipe, like the tail wagging the dog.   

I’ll say it, I’m a complete &$#!*%* idiot. Not only is is simple, it’s simply delicious.

If you’re in the mood to impress your friends with a fantastic soup and you don’t want to divulge how long it took to make, or the complete ingredient list, trust me, you’ll look like a genius.

Gordon Ramsay’s Broccoli Soup

Ingredients:

1 1/2 bunch of Broccoli – you’ll only need the florets

Water

Salt & Pepper to taste

1 small log of Goat Cheese

That’s it.

Bring the water to a rapid boil in a 5 quart pot (water level should be enough to cover the broccoli.) Do Not add anything to the water – just water and broccoli. Cook the broccoli until a paring knife goes through the broccoli easily (do not overcook the broccoli – it should be slightly firm.) Using a slotted spoon take the broccoli out of the water and put into a blender. Take the broccoli water (you just made your own broccoli stock) and fill the blender 1/2 way with the water. Season with salt and pepper and pulse the blender until the broccoli blends with the water, then give it a full spin for about 45 seconds. Taste the soup, add salt and pepper, blend again, taste again until you have the soup to your liking. Remember you can always add salt and pepper, you can’t subtract, so don’t be too heavy handed. 

Cut or crumble the goat cheese into the center of the bowl and pour the soup from the blender into the bowl. Pour around the cheese so the soup doesn’t cover it.

I’m not joking, it’s beautiful, easy, and delicious!

Soapbox * Disclaimer – Opinions Are My Own December 23, 2013

Anyone that knows me personally knows that I have a slight, if not significant dispute with God.

Actually, it’s quite significant.

I sometimes feel like a hypocrite because I send my son to catholic school, even though I haven’t been to church in years. Not because I don’t believe in God (even though our relationship is very strained.) It’s because I don’t want to sit in the back of church sobbing, that’s why I haven’t been to church in years.

Look, I have rules. The two things I don’t talk about ever on Social Media:

1. Religion
2. Politics

Because honestly to whatever, whomever, you do or don’t believe in… I seriously don’t care. If I care about you personally, I will do whatever I can, whenever I can, if you need me I will be there to help you in any way I can.

Then I’ve seen all this crap spewed over Facebook and Twitter over these Duck Dynasty assholes,

Congratulations, you’ve got everyone talking about you. Good for you A&E!

I’m sure the hillbilly’s have never blown anything except a duck call device.

So I suppose I’ll break one of my own rules. Look, my parents paid a lot of money for me to go to catholic school, and I AM PAYING A LOT OF MONEY FOR MY SON TO GO TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL. That, by the way, does not mean that I agree with all of people that call themselves “Catholics” or “Christians” or whatever the hell they like to call themselves these days. It’s been my experience that all the heavy handed “God Squaders” (as I like to call them) are the biggest sinners. They’ll look you in the face and stab you in the back; unfortunately I’ve experienced this first hand.

Shame on you.

That’s right.

SHAME ON YOU.

Have you ever heard the expression “people that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?” While you’re preachin – you might start thinking about practicing what you’re actually preaching.

So why don’t you (that would be all of you barking up this tree)  just shut up?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t the idea be to LOVE?

Love – Beyond – Politics

Love – Beyond –  Religion

Love – Despite differences.

It’s easy if you try.

I think someone wrote a song about that once…..

I Wonder If It Will Burn Down October 1, 2013

The church I mean.

Tonight will be the first time I’ve gone to church since my Dad’s funeral.

It’s not for a funeral this time, it’s for a celebration. Kameron is getting confirmed tonight. Although, I still don’t know what the hell that means.

Kameron went to a retreat last Saturday to talk with his fellow classmates and other ministry type adults about confirmation. When I asked him about his day he was pretty nondescript. I went through the usual questions “Did you have a good time” “What did you guys do” – you know the typical questions any parent might ask. He mentioned that they broke into groups to talk about confirmation and what it meant to them. I asked, what does it mean to you? He sighed and rolled his eyes at me and said ‘they asked me why I wanted to get confirmed.” Looking at him, I could tell he was annoyed, but I pressed on, “what did you tell them?” He said “I wanted to get confirmed because both of my parents are confirmed” (sidebar – parents meaning me and Mr. D for anyone that might be confused.) I asked “is that all you said?” Knowing that the catholic church or their ministry type people probably wouldn’t accept that answer. He said “NO” sounding frustrated, “they asked me why I wanted to get confirmed.” (Here comes the big eye roll)….”I told them it was because I wanted to strengthen my faith.”

Sounded pretty good to me, I guess they bought it.

My memory of confirmation was my mom threatening me – “if you don’t get confirmed you’ll go to Broad Ripple High School because I’m not paying the tuition at Chatard unless you get confirmed.” I can remember that conversation like it was yesterday. I’ve never told Kameron that he had to get confirmed or he couldn’t go to Roncalli.

I hope tonight is more about a spiritual thing than a threat. About a year ago I promised Kameron that “we” as a family would go to church more often. I haven’t kept up my end of the bargain. It’s been too hard. I’ve told Mr. D that I didn’t want to sit in the back of the church and cry. I still haven’t found the answers as to why my Dad isn’t with me anymore, and even if someone gave me answers it wouldn’t be good enough.

Maybe I should just sit in the back of the church and cry, someday, but not today.

Today is Kameron’s day, as it should be.

`

The Question I’ve Avoided For 14 Years.. September 24, 2013

Until tonight.

“Mom, why did you and dad get a divorce?”

Honestly, I’ve prepared myself for this moment for the last three or four years. I’ve gone through the situation in my head over and over again until it was completely exhausting. I’ve read books, watched so many Dr. Phil shows it’s almost embarrassing, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for tonight when my son asked me that question.

We were just sitting around the dining room table finishing up dinner and doing social studies notes when he looked at me straight in the face and asked “why did you and dad get a divorce?”

I sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, it was probably only a couple of seconds, but it felt like the last fourteen years of my life has suddenly passed before my eyes. I looked across the table at Mr. D who looked as surprised as I was, anxiously waiting for me to answer. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I got my son into counseling about two months ago. He was having some anxiety about being in the eighth grade, high school, puberty, girls, friends, stress – I’m happy I found him someone to talk to, but I wasn’t expecting my usual non confrontational son to ask me about the end of our “happy” family at 7:30 on a Monday night.

The truth is, I should have seen this coming. He was questioning his dad (I use ‘dad’ very loosely) about why he didn’t get any one on one time with him. Why he wasn’t as important as his other kids. Why his “first son” wasn’t as important to him as his other children. I mean I gotta tell you, I’ve always encouraged some kid of relationship with his dad, no matter what it was, but his dad is a poor excuse for a dad. He’s an embarrassment if you want to really know the truth. If you don’t know me, I’m kind of a loud mouth, but I have made the exception with my son’s father, no matter what he says. I’ve watched enough Dr. Phil to know that children learn what they live, and saying something detrimental about his father would someday come back to bite me in the ass. He would resent me, it’s just a fact. I’ve kept my mouth shut, bitten my tongue more times than you can imagine, and it all comes down to that question.

I sat there and looked at my son waiting for him to look away, but this time he wasn’t looking away. He wanted answers, and I suppose it was high time I gave him the best answers I could. So I did.

I told him that his dad and I were married and that we were both very mean to each other. I told him that when I found out that I was pregnant with him, his dad and I were very excited and optimistic about the future. I told him that when he was born it was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me or his dad. I told him that when he was about a year old his dad and I started having problems, grown up problems, that didn’t have anything to do with him (even though I know kids have an amazing way to feel like everything is their fault.) I told him that we tried the best we could, but in the end, his dad and I decided that being together wasn’t the best thing for him. I did tell him that his dad and I did not do everything we could do to save our marriage. If I told him that we did it would be a lie, he was looking for answers, not lollipops and rainbows. I asked if he ever remembered his dad and I being together, he said no. Which I think is a blessing. I’ll admit I made mistakes, but I honestly gave my best effort the last time with his dad. In the end, he decided other things were more important, which reflects how he is today, and the relationship he has with his son.

The best part of this story is that my son has my husband Mr. D. He’s everything any kid would want in a father. He’s loving, appreciative, patient, kind, funny, responsive, active, I could go on and on, but I don’t want to inflate his ego…

Being in this position is terrible. It’s just a bad situation. The worst part is that I don’t have any answers for my son except for the answers I gave him tonight. I don’t know if that is the end of the questions, I doubt it. At least my answers now (I hope) ensures that he won’t hate me later. Maybe those answers he’s looking for he will figure out for himself, if he hasn’t already.

I know I’ve done my absolute best, I know it. I’m good with that.

I Hear A Pounding In My Head September 16, 2013

Then I hear silence.

The silence I’m grateful for, it seems peaceful in this cluttered mind of mine.

What I am grateful for today:

I have my husband, my son, and my stepdaughter. They have believed in me beyond measure, for that I am truly grateful.

I have work at a place where I believe people truly care about me. For that I am immensely grateful.

I have friends, some I’ve known for 30 years, some I’ve only met via the internet. For those friends I’m truly grateful.

The loss, I haven’t overcome it, and I don’t know if I ever will.

I will do the best I can for everyone I can (including myself) – please, if you feel like I’m not giving you my best tell me. I promise I will make it right.

Want A New Floor For $75 Bucks? August 25, 2013

I hate the floors in my house. I mean look at this mess in our master bath.

         Ugly right? I mean I’ve lived in this house with Mr. D for 6 years. I’ve painted, changed the décor as much as I could or afford, but nothing could be done about these floors. There was always some bill or something more important than spending $500 to replace the floor in the bathroom or any other room in the house for that matter.

Then I remembered brown paper bag floors. As much as I can’t stand my ex-mother-in-law I remembered a floor treatment that she did in a bathroom at a house she lived in. It was beautiful, and inexpensive. So I Googled brown paper bag floors and poof there they were. I read a blog post (I’m ashamed that I don’t have the url for it – but I do have the text to the post if you’re interested – or you could just keep reading here.) A woman that hated her floors and didn’t have the chunk of change to throw down to replace them with something fabulous, so she did this brown paper bag treatment. Easy and not expensive – right in my wheelhouse.

I’ll cut to the chase, here’s what you need:

1 roll of “builders paper” or brown shipping paper

1 gallon of Glue All

1 bucket

1 package of latex gloves (trust me – you want these)

1 gallon of polyurethane

1 measuring cup

1 paint stick (to stir the glue and water)

Patience and Ibuprofen

OK – let’s get started!!

The first thing you have to do is tear the brown paper and crumple it up into wads. Like this:  

My suggestion – keep the straight edges separate from the other filler paper you’ll put in the middle of the floor. You’ll want to start with the edges up against the wall and work your way out – it’s a lot easier if you separate the paper (thank you OCD.)

Next, get your glue and water mixture together. Ratio is 2 cups of water to 1 cup of glue. Mix it together with your stir stick.

Now you need your latex gloves and ibuprofen.

Take the crumpled paper and submerge it into the mixture. You want to make sure that the paper is completely submerged in the mixture. Take the paper out and squeeze it like a sponge, you want the paper wet, but not sopping wet, and lay it down on your floor. That’s it – keep going… My suggestion is to tear even the pieces you’ve already torn when they’re wet, it gives depth and layers.

During pic:            

Keep going until you’re done.

This is our finished product without poly on it.

         You can also stain the paper if you want a darker finish, but I’m happy with the color!

So we can’t use this bathroom until the floor is dry. Then we’ll put the poly on it with a large paint brush. The suggestion is about 10 coats to make sure it seals properly. The plan is to poly once in the morning before work and once before going to bed.

This floor is extremely durable and the only clean up is a damp mop, which is fantastic!

You can do this treatment on any floor. You can pull up carpet and do this, I just might, by the way.

It’s Wicked August 22, 2013

Tonight I was chatting with my best friend Brandy that is celebrating her 18th wedding anniversary this year to her husband Lonnie. I introduced them by the way… I should get some kind of best friend credit for that.

Anyway, while we were chatting she mentioned that “Wicked” was coming to town and tickets will go on sale in September.

August and September are sketchy months for me because of my Dad. I’m over the top emotional, I take everything personally. I smile, and hide my emotions. Honestly, I just do the best I can, for everyone I can, until after September 15th.

Anyway, this was not supposed to be a “feel sorry for Stephanie moment” because there are times I can laugh about my Dad. I can remember things about him and appreciate the times that we had, and the times that were especially funny. Which brings me back to Wicked.

You see Johnno was never a “let’s go to dinner and see a show” kind of guy. He was always “there’s a football game on, and where is my damn beer and onion dip” kind of guy. So when my mother started buying tickets to Broadway shows like Wicked, well, my Dad was less than enthused.

There are many moments with my Dad that I won’t forget, and this is one of them. (If you never met my Dad you could never really appreciate this, but you could see the humor in it.)

Wicked was at the Murat, we (Dad, Mom, Mr. D, and I went.) The conversation after the performance went like this….

Mom:  Wow, what a great show!

Me:  It really was great.

Mr. D:  It was awesome!

Johnno: Yeah…

Mom: (Asking everyone) Did you cry at the end?

Me: Yes!

Johnno: I cried too..

Mom: Really? You did? (more interested in my Dad’s response than anyone else.)  (Sounding hopeful..)

Johnno: Yeah, I cried…. I was just so happy it was finally over.

Mr. D said tonight that was one of his favorite memories of my Dad.. “Johnny Carson couldn’t have written a better script, that was one of Johnno’s all time greatest lines.”

That’s a memory that still makes me laugh.

I Am My Father’s Daughter August 14, 2013

I caught myself today driving with the top down in my car, listening to a “Wings” CD thinking to myself what a great moment, then reality (the bitch that it is) sunk in.

My appreciation for music, the “British Invasion”, and why I turn the volume all the way up in my car and pretty much embarrass Kam while I dance and drive in my car came from my Dad.

My Dad loved music, he loved it so much.

I don’t imagine my Dad ever being a musician, he never wanted to be a headliner. He was much happier behind the scenes. Truth be told, my Dad always wanted to be a DJ.

I’m not kidding.

I remember when I was a kid him making tapes of “The John Eppich Show.” Transferring albums to cassette tapes, adding his own improvisation between cuts. I can still see him sitting on the floor at our old house on Norwaldo making those tapes, yelling at me and my sister if we stomped across the carpet covered hard-wood floors. “The record skips if you walk by like that, walk softer damnit.” I can still see him in his huge headphones hunched over his cassette recorder with his microscopic microphone recording his favorite songs. Maybe he was living out a dream he had for himself that never came to pass, or maybe it was just a fun hobby. Whatever it was, “The John Eppich Show” didn’t survive the several floods that we had on Norwaldo. At least that’s what I think. If there was a cassette that survived I would want to have one of them. I would find a damn recorder to play it.

I am grateful that I have my Dad’s albums, and that I have a record player to play the records on. Sometimes it makes me sad listening to the songs that are so familiar to me growing up. Wishing I could look at my Dad and hear him say “that’s a helluva song baby, some day someone will be impressed that you knew that song and who sang it.”

Truth be told, the only person I was out to impress was him.