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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!   gordo3

mjk

 

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.

 

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

johnno volume

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.

 

What I Wish I Didn’t Wear June 17, 2013

necklace sA necklace.

If you work with me or know me you might have noticed I wear a silver necklace. It’s a longer necklace so the charm on it isn’t obvious unless I pull it out or it makes its way out of my shirt. What hangs from that necklace means more to me than most things do. It can’t be replaced. It’s my Dad’s thumbprint.

It’s hard to believe that my Dad has been gone for four years in September.

People leave memories with us that will last for the rest of our lives. Some of the memories my Dad and I shared were the best times of my life. Teaching me about football, and watching me learn to love it. Kameron being born, and what a great Pop he was.  Mr. D and I getting married, knowing that the third time really was the charm.  Going to Lambeau Field together, our first trip together! Watching the Packers play in Indianapolis, tailgating with those silly Indianapolis fans.  Sunday football, coming over to my house every Sunday to watch the Packers play. Catching my first fish.  Teaching me how to jump a car. The difference between a flat head and a phillips head screwdriver. How to check a breaker and change a fuse. How to buy a car. How to make home made french fries. That Mikesell’s Rippled Potato Chips work best with Dean’s French Onion Dip. And the way to his heart was through my deviled eggs. Those are just a few of the millions of things that he taught me.

The selfish part of me missed my Dad, even though I know he’s in a better place.

The worst part about it for me now is that I know he would be so proud of me (not that he wasn’t before.)  He would be so ridiculously proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish. It really has been awesome, and I thank sincerely the people that have (REALLY) supported me (Firebelly Team – Duncan Alney)  -my gratitude and your belief in me is immeasurable. I sincerely from the bottom of my heart thank you. I’m so happy!

Without my Dad there is a space in my heart that can’t be replaced. I don’t get to tell him about the awesome day I’ve had. I don’t have that smile, or pat on my shoulder anymore, he was the one person who always believed in me, no matter what the circumstances.

Things aren’t the same without you Dad, I love you and miss you so much.

I’m kicking ass Johnno, I hope you know.

 

Dogs and Spirits April 22, 2013

Johnno at Lambeau

Johnno at Lambeau

While I was dishing about my Food Network addiction earlier on Twitter something else happened. Some of you might find this a bit bizarre and that’s ok. By now I’m use to the questions or comments I get sometimes after I spill my guts all over the social media world. Don’t mind me while I spill, again.

I’ve heard more than several times in my life that dogs can see spirits, or ghosts, whatever you care to call it. I don’t like the word ghost, especially after my dad passed away. I’m sorry, I just don’t see Johnno floating around in some Casper-like state. Whenever I think of him I always think of him in jeans and a Packers or green golf shirt. That was standard issue Johnno garb. Another thing I don’t see my Dad in is wings. I can just picture my Dad entering the gates of heaven and giving a big “Hell No” to St. Peter as he tries to give my Dad wings. Wings the group he liked, the feathery things, not so much.

I believe in an after life. I believe when our time comes that we will see the loved ones that we have lost in our lifetime. I have to believe that, I have to believe that A LOT. I also believe that every once in a while spirits like to have a little fun with those of us here on earth. Us and our pets.

I have a leather couch it seats three comfortably. When my Dad was over watching a Packers game everyone had their “assigned” seats. They weren’t really assigned, but you would have thought they were if you came over to my house every Sunday. I sat in the middle, my Dad to my left, and Mr. D to my right. I still sit in the middle, and Mr. D still sits on the right. We don’t do it on purpose, we’ve just did it that way for a number of years, I guess it’s a tradition. My dog Shayla takes up Johnno’s now empty spot. It’s where she crashes out for 18 hours a day. Seriously, I think my dog is part cat.

Anyway while I was confessing my Food Network addiction on twitter Shayla was nuzzled up right next to me, which is weird. She really only does that with Mr. D or Kameron, Sam when she’s home. I really hadn’t noticed she was there until her tail started the happy thump. Then she looked up in the air and started licking the air, like someone had put their hand in the air in front of her and she started to go to town on it. I sat and watched her thinking she had lost her mind, but she kept at it, for like two minutes. I said “Shayla what are you doing” she stopped to look at me but went right back to it. I thought of my Dad, he would always pet Sha-na-na (as he called her) when he sat down and she would lick his hand. I decided to put my hand above her to see if she would lick it, nope. When I took my hand away the tail thumping and air licking continued. I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the left seat of my couch, expecting it to be cool to the touch. It was warm, like someone had been sitting there. Then Shayla stopped her licking and put her head down.

I think my Dad can sense when I need him around. Sometimes it’s an unexpected penny. Sometimes the lights go off. Sometimes he plays with my dog. Whenever those things, and other things happen I smile because I know he’s with me. Someday we’ll be together again.

 

Are You There God, It’s Me Stephanie, Again January 16, 2013

I wrote a post last year titled: Are You There God, It’s Me Stephanie

I would suggest reading that post first and coming back to this one. I’m really proud of that post. It was probably one of the first times I really opened myself up and let you into part of my crazy world. I’m about to do it again – so here it goes…

Confirmation. So I decided not to have Kameron confirmed last year. The reason I told everyone else, and even myself, is that it would be nicer for Kameron if he waited and got confirmed with his class. He’s the oldest kid in his class. I decided on a recommendation from the pre-school that he attended to wait one more year before sending him to Kindergarten. He needed to develop more socially, and he was sad because his dad and I were starting what turned into a very long divorce process. Waiting for everyone else to catch up age wise and get confirmed with his class was a much better idea….

Better for me, because I wasn’t ready to have God back in my life.

I wasn’t even slightly interested. Even though my first post had a glimmer of hope in it, and I was hopeful, at least that is what I told myself. Honestly, the thought of going into church again made me sick to my stomach. So I sold Kameron on the idea of getting confirmed with his classmates, and he bought it. Which bought me time, because time heals all wounds right?

Sorta.

At least in my case. In that situation and others I was still fighting my secret battles.

Last Friday email – subject – Confirmation. This email didn’t catch me off-guard like last years email did. I knew it was getting close to time to start having meetings about confirmation. The email confirmed that yes, it was in fact time to start meeting about confirmation. Meeting at school (not church) about the confirmation that doesn’t happen until April/May buys me time. I can do meetings in my sleep. I can do uncomfortable meetings standing on my head. Meetings are not my problem. Wednesday night meeting – sure thing! So I had it in my head confirmation meeting Wednesday night, I can be as enthusiastic as I need to be.

A few hours later I get another email – subject – Meeting Change. I thought I hope it’s not a meeting on Thursday, I already have something going on. A change of plans. Instead of the meeting at the school on Wednesday night, we are going to church to have mass with the Archbishop. I put my head in my hands and said (fuck) very quietly to myself. Mass, that’s my first problem.  With the Archbishop is another problem, the bigger the hat in the Catholic Church the longer the mass. I’m looking at a an hour and a half mass easy. At this point it’s fair to say I would rather stick a pencil in my own eye than to have to walk into church tonight.

I haven’t been to church since my dad died, that’s not an accident. I’m still very upset and angry about the untimely death of my father. Where was God when my father died right before my very eyes? I asked for him, I prayed to him, I begged him on that day not to take my dad away from me. Yet my dad was gone that day, and it changed me forever.

Going back to church to me in a way is like saying it’s all good between me and God again. Which it clearly isn’t.

Then of course there is Kameron. Kameron is young and still has faith. He hasn’t had his faith tarnished by life and its unexpected curve balls it likes to throw at us. Even though he was old enough to understand what happened when my dad died, it didn’t break him like it did me. In Kameron’s eyes “Pop” is in heaven with God, having a good old-time. As time has gone on Kameron’s mentions of my dad have become fewer and fewer. In a way that makes me mad, but in a way I have to be happy for him. Knowing that his school is doing exactly what they’re suppose to be doing in religion class. Teaching that we are all God’s children, and that he loves us, flaws and all.

So I’m going, but I am not happy about it. I’m not going for myself, I’m going for Kameron, I don’t want to disappoint him. I promised him that I would try to make an effort and go to church more often. It was just going to be on my time-table, which kept getting pushed back further and further away. Abruptly, it is in my face and ready for me, scorn and all, at 7:00 p.m.

I doubt I’ll have some kind of epiphany, but if I do, you’ll read about it soon.

SED

 

Why I Don’t Like Halloween October 30, 2012

Most of the names in this post were changed to protect the guilty.

 

Right now the kids are getting all geeked up about their costumes, plotting out which houses they will be hitting for the best candy. Every year that passes, I get less and less enthused. I mean Halloween was fun when Kameron was little, now it’s like when is enough enough? You’re thirteen, I’m thinking next year he will be passing out candy instead of giving it away.

When is enough enough?

This post isn’t about candy, it’s about something that most people don’t know about me.

Imagine a 19 year old girl. Just graduated from high school. Worked full-time selling shoes for Nine West because I wasn’t interested in going to college right away, and when your parents tell you they’re not paying for college, you need to explore other options. The options were, live with my parents (yuck), continue working (yay), anything else could just come my way. I was young.

I don’t remember where I met “Chris” it must have been at a party somewhere. Chris was 21, so he could buy alcohol for all the parties . Chris also had just graduated from an in state college with a degree in electronics. He had a fast car, a charming personality, an apartment that I was welcome to stay at whenever I wanted (which pissed my parents off.) He would me make me  feel like I was the only person in the world, and he did for awhile.

We had been dating for a while and Chris decided it was time for me to meet his parents. Terri, his mother, was a nurse. She worked third shift at a hospital in southern Indiana. Chris’s dad wasn’t around. He never paid any child support, never saw Chris, the typical dead beat dad story. Terri got remarried several years later to Bob. Bob, Chris, and Michael (Chris’s older brother) never really got along. I don’t know if it was the stepfather thing, or that he just seemed to be in a rotten mood whenever we saw him. Except when I was around. Bob and I had and instant connection, we both loved IU Basketball. It just happened when Chris and I were dating it was basketball season, and I was able to get tickets for a ballgame. Bob had never been to a game at IU, so that carried a lot of weight, besides the fact that he liked me already. What he didn’t like, and that I really didn’t notice until later that Terri was giving Chris money under the table. I remember Chris being on the phone with his mother asking her how many extra shifts she would be working because he had some bill he had to pay. I should have thought there was something wrong with that, now that I’m 30ish I would totally think there was something wrong with it. It just happened so often, and it never seemed to be an issue that the 19-year-old me didn’t give it a second thought.

That should have been a red flag right?

You have to remember I was 19, and when a handsome guy gets down on his knee to ask you to marry him, it’s pretty overwhelming. My parents weren’t happy. Not that they didn’t like Chris, they just thought we were too young. Then I reminded both of them how old they were when they got married, that pretty much ended the conversation.

We decided on a Halloween Wedding. How much fun is that right? A traditional Catholic wedding, and a costume party reception.Chris even went through the RCIA to become Catholic, I think he did it mostly to please my parents. People loved it. Even my parents warmed up to the idea. So the plan began. We were married on October, 31 on a perfect fall day. Everyone showed up in costumes. The diner was delicious – my family cooked it. The music was scary and fun. It was a fun wedding.

In the mean time Chris and I moved in together. It was a town house on the upper west side of Indy. It was odd, because he worked on the south side, and I worked downtown. While we were in the townhouse we began looking at houses. I think it took us less than three days to find the lovely chateau in Whiteland. Our backdoor lead us right to the park, where I imagined our children would play someday.

Dealing with mortgages in the 90’s was just as difficult as is it now. I took months to get the financing (which Chris fudged the numbers a lot, he was getting his salary and added the money he got monthly, sometimes weekly from his mother.) We begged my grandmother for the down-payment which was $5,000.00 that we promised we would pay back. I somehow knew Chris would never let happen, he talked her into it, he was conniving.

I suggested that maybe we should wait to move, that maybe borrowing money wasn’t the best idea.

That was the first time he hit me. I was in shock. Then he grabbed my face and said “don’t ever question my motives again, I’m doing this for you bitch.” It scared the shit out of me.

We were approved for the house, and the excitement of starting in a new space made me have a little hope that things were going to get better. When my sister was over helping us pack for our move she said something to piss Chris off, I don’t even remember what she said. Chris choked my sister, and came after me. I threw my rings in the snow and swore I would never come back. I went to my parents to stay for a little while. I think they knew what was going on, but I was too ashamed to acknowledge they were right. On the day of my wedding my Dad said to me “you know you can hold my hand and we can walk out of here.” I knew then he was right, but I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I was young and impressions were a big thing to me.

Chris crawled like a dog, promising counseling, a new life in our new house, and he had finally got a full-time job, so the stress was going to go away. I was still 19, and I still wanted to believe him.

So I got married. Not too long after the abuse continued. He would hit me in places that people couldn’t see. Never my face, always my legs, ribs, upper thighs. He would taunt me, “who are you going to tell, no one will believe you, because everyone knows what a whore you are.” This from the man that suggested that I have an abortion after taking a positive pregnancy test six months after we were married. It turned out that I wasn’t pregnant, thank God I wouldn’t be attached to him for the rest of my life.

I began a plan. I don’t know if that is exactly right, I decided that I was going to leave Chris, but I was tremendously afraid that he would kill me .He held a shotgun to my head and swore that he would kill me if I ever left him.  I knew in my heart of hearts that he would kill me. I lived in fear everyday.

I met a friend Susan thorough another person that I worked with. Susan did nails, and from what I saw from Teresa they looked beautiful. Chris and I were making a little more money, so he encouraged me to get my nails done – he was always about appearances, I was living in a fog.

I remember the first time I met Susan at her apartment, she pulled back my sleeves and looked at me. I think she said “are you ok?” I said “no” and “could you just do my nails?” About an hour of getting to know each other Chris showed up to her apartment, just to make sure how things were going (actually checking up on me to see if I was where I said I was.) After playing twenty questions with Susan he decided to leave. After he was gone, Susan asked “are you ok?” I think the expression on my face told her all she needed to know.

The next weekend Susan asked me to go with her to the Bob & Tom Lake Monroe Party. I spoke to Chris about it. We fought, it was bad this time. He kicked down the door, threw everything off the walls, and left me in a corner of the bathroom with fresh bruises and a bloody nose.

When Chris would beat me that severely he would leave all night. I decided when Susan came to my house I was going to the lake. I was going to think long and hard about divorcing Chris. I figured that if was going to get the beating wrath when I got home, so why not have some fun for a few hours? When Susan knocked on my door, it fell right into the living room because Chris had kicked it in the night before.

When I did get home I found the door still kicked in, all of my things knocked off the walls, the coffee table on it’s side..and a note from Chris saying “I made him do this and he wouldn’t be back in the morning because he had to work, but he would deal with me later.”

Then the phone rang, it was Chris. He said” have you been listening to Bob and Tom?” I said “no.” “Turn it on” was all he said, and hung up. I immediately turned on the radio, my friend, Zack Steinke, who I went to grade school and high school with was dead. Dead at the age of 17. The cause of death was the life loving child was wanting to go on a bungee jumping in South Carolina. The elevator that took Zach up to where he would jump snapped and Zach fell to his death in front of his parents. Zach was a thrill seeker, outstanding student, he was the Ferris Bueller of Chatard High School.

I got beaten because I wanted to go to his funeral. “You whore, you probably slept with him didn’t you?” I was paralyzed with fear, but went to the funeral anyway.

After Zach’s death I decided the life I was living was no longer for me. I was going to get killed. So when Chris left for work at a very early hour I left. The only things I took were my clothes, I called my friend Susan, and she just asked where and when. I asked her to meet me at my house between 8:30 a.m and 9:00 am. That way I knew he would be gone. I shoved all of my clothes into Susan’s car and kept saying “I’m sorry.”

Months later we got divorced. He got the house, I got the clothes on my back and my day bed. And my life, I got my life back.

You are stronger than you think, and even then, you are stronger.

 

Kids At Risk August 7, 2012

I pulled into CVS the other day. I had one thing to pick up, I knew it was going to be an in and out type of trip. My son on his iPod rolled his eyes at me when I told him to get out of the car and come inside with me.

Those of you born in the 70’s or earlier can probably relate to this situation. Parents going into the store for five to ten minutes (maybe longer) to pick up a few things. Sometimes we were told to lock the door, sometimes the car was running. This scenario would definitely be frowned upon these days. Times they have changed. We don’t live in that world anymore. Today unfortunately, a running car with children in it could be a prime kidnapping opportunity for some wack job just walking by. Leaving your children in a hot car can cause dire circumstances, even death as we’ve learned this summer.

It pisses me off.

Just the other day a Greenfield couple decided it would be a really good idea to leave their four children (ages three months to five years old) in their car while they grocery shopped. I don’t know what the temperature was that day, but on average we’ve been running in the 90’s. Temperatures in the 90’s can cause heat in cars to raise as high as 110 degrees. That’s hot! The parents have been charged with neglect of a child which is a class D Felony.

“At least five other central Indiana parents have been arrested in the past month for leaving children unattended in hot vehicles. In one case, a four-month old Greenfield girl died.” www.indystar.com

I noticed myself yesterday getting out of my car and looking around. It just so happened that I was parked next to a van that had a car seat in the back seat. I’ll admit it, I peered into the window to make sure there wasn’t a child inside. I’ve been a single mother. I know what it’s like to get a sleeping child out of a car and take it into a grocery store when it’s hot outside. I know what it’s like to have to pick up diapers at midnight in the bitter cold dragging a heavy car seat along with you.

There is no excuse for this.

The next time my teenager rolls his eyes at me because I’m making him get out of the car I won’t think twice about it. For those that decide to put their children’s life in jeopardy, I have an iPhone, and I know how to use it. I will try to get your children out of the car so they are safe. I will call the police, and wait until they get there to arrest you.

I would like to know what you think. Has this situation made you more aware of your surroundings? What would you do if you saw a child unattended in a vehicle? Would you do something or ignore it?

 

Are You There God? It’s Me Stephanie… January 6, 2012

Filed under: I am still learning,Stuff — stepheppichdaily @ 3:47 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

So I got this e-mail from Kameron’s school this morning.

Subject:  CONFIRMATION.

Christ, what did I forget?  Confirmation for what?  We’ve been over the hefty play schedule.  The phone misplacement disfunk.  The “I can’t wear those new school pants today – they still have tags on them!”  His Spanish Teacher’s husband getting whisked away in an ambulance in the middle of church.

I mean, it’s been quite a week, and it’s Thursday.

I heaved a heavy sigh; what task lies within this email I wondered.  I read.

If your son or daughter is 13 years old before September __, 2012 (I quickly did the math – and he is..) I read on.  He/She is eligible for the Confirmation Program through OLG.  I stopped; Confirmation?  How is it possible that Kameron is old enough for Confirmation?  Then my mind drifted back to the 5100 block of Norwaldo Avenue.

Confirmation as I recall was not a happy thing for me.  Confirmation to me makes me remember fights.  Threats from my mother to be sent to public school if I didn’t get confirmed.   The questioning of my faith, even then as a teenager, but knowing I wouldn’t trade the familiarity of my Catholic School or my friends for this one hour debacle.  Besides, there was no way I’d make it a week at Broad Ripple HS – even back then.  So I’d do the damn thing and that would be that.

Then there was the dress.  Oh, I remember that dress.  It was one of those dresses that I look back now and wished that I would have been able to keep.  It was in one of “those” stores.  I can’t remember the name of the store, but it was one of those stores that people “south of the swamp” didn’t typically go into, because frankly we had no money.  I remember seeing that dress and begging my mom – on my hands and knees – to please let me have it for my upcoming, very important, Catholic,  Confirmation

Long story short, I got the dress, I got confirmed, there was a party, I got some cash, some crosses, and that was it.  I didn’t feel like I was closer to God, I didn’t feel anything really… I take that back, I felt relief that I was not heading to BRHS or IPS.

Fast forward 25 years, and my own opinionated child later.

I picked Kameron up from school after his initial play practice.  (He’s going to be in Cinderella in March.)  (Even though “it stinks because he’s in sixth grade and can’t try out for a REAL part.”)  He got in the car, we went over how his day was, what kind of homework we were facing for the evening, and the most important question “what are we having for dinner?”  Chicken Enchiladas was the call, he seemed pretty happy about that.

Driving on the back roads to our house gives me and Kameron time to talk, unless he’s not in the mood – which happens.  We’ve talked about a lot of stuff on those back roads.  Confirmation was the topic for today.

I told him I got an email from school (which always gets his attention – hahaha.)  I told him it was about Confirmation and asked if his teachers had brought it up in class.  He said that they did, and that he had to be 13 to participate.  “Will I be mom?”  “Yes” I said.  Then it went quiet.

Until we came to our first of a few stop signs.  As I turned left he asked “are you Confirmed Mom?”  I didn’t look and said “yes.”  The next stop sign came, and he asked “what does it mean, Confirmation, I mean, Mom?”  I looked both ways, and thought, I’m going to have to be very careful the way I answer this.  I said “Confirmation is like a promise to God bud.  A promise that you’ll always pray, and that you’ll always do things the way you think God would want you to do them, to go to church, and to always treat people with kindness and respect.”

Hey – that’s a pretty damn good answer.

At the next stop sign he asked “why don’t we go to church anymore Mom?”

Instant lump in my throat;  I looked at him, but for some reason, the way he looked at me, I knew he wasn’t going to give me a pass on this one.

Trying not to cry, I gave him the most honest answer I could.  I said (very calmly)  “I don’t go to church anymore bud because when Pop died, mommy didn’t want to go to church anymore.”   He looked down, and then looked back out the window.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes.

“Kameron?”  He looked at me.  “Would you like to go to church sometime with me bud?”  “Yes” he said.

I promised him I would, and that I would try just for him, because it was important to him.  He said “thanks Mom” as we pulled into the driveway and he got out of the car.

Looking at him going into the house, I put my head on the steering wheel and thought “kid, you have no idea.”

So, are you there God?  It’s me.  I haven’t been around for awhile.  Frankly God, I’m pretty pissed at you, and you know why.  The thing is that I have this little boy that thinks I know everything.  (Eyes Roll)  So I’m doing this for him right now, and maybe a little bit for me.  Don’t get too excited.  We’ll see how it goes,  I’m not making any promises.  Deal?