You'd be surprised too!

Okay, so it's no big news flash that I live in one of the 'rudest', 'crudest' and 'crassest' cities, M-I-A-M-I.  Welcome to it! Yes, it's true! Okay fine, we were ranked #4 according to ONE survey but still, that's the TOP 5!  What?!?!  In all seriousness, I really need to sensor my 'potty mouth' as it is because believe me, my five and seven year olds have dropped the 'jack ass' bomb around a few times.  OH, SHAME ON YOU MAMA SCRIBBLE! Yes, it's true, I get very angry (nose flaring and all) at the impossibly rude and may I say idiotic drivers we Miamian's have driving around this city.  But there is a silver lining to this rant, believe me, just wait!

Just today my darling and adorably four foot eleven (give or take an inch with her tall hair) inch Mother-in- Law was doing her bi-weekly Costco run, now mind you, she's 71 years old but knows how to stand her ground.  It was raining cows and dogs and she had to manage to put all her shopping away in her car trunk, holding an umbrella, her purse dangling from her shoulder and her sheer will to not get her hair wet.

The parking lot was swarming with cars that wanted to either park or simply get out.  From the corner of her eye, my MIL noticed a lady watching her.  The lady was probably around fifty years of age.  This 'Miami' lady, got out of her car, in the middle of the rain, walked up to my MIL and and sweetly told her to 'here, take your purse and get into your car so that you don't get wet.  I'll put your groceries away.'  My MIL was completely astounded at this lady's self-less act and desire to help an elderly person.  She graciously accepted her offer, walked around to the driver's side (while still trying to avoid getting too wet) and sat in her car.  She waited.  She was so incredibly moved by this person's act of kindness that she started to cry right there in her bucket seat and little damp feet.  When the lady was done, my MIL gave her all the blessings that she could impart on such a lovely, sweet and generous soul and was eternally grateful to her.

There you have it! Even in a rude and crass city like this one, there still are a few selfless, generous and kind individuals, you just never know when you'll be lucky enough to meet one.

♥ Mama Scribble

I Lost It and Then I Cried...

Image via Tumblr

It took one little trigger.  A petty one at best.  She had left it right there, on the kitchen counter top among all the other things I had strewn all over it.  The 'Title' to her jalopy, my Mom's piece of crap jalopy.  "I gave it to you and you had it here, right here on the counter"  she told me.  "I don't loose things, I may be a bit scatter brained but I don't loose things" I stammered.  I felt my anxiety start to creep up my spine and into my nape as I continued pacing from my desk and back to the kitchen counter and back to my desk and back again and back and forth and back and forth trying to locate the effing jalopy Title so that she could go and junk it for $450.

My husband was trying to help me as I would continue repeating "I don't loose things."  Finally, my Mother resorted to trying to go and get a duplicate copy from a tag agency.  Within ten minutes she called us to let us know that is was going to cost $150 just for a simple duplicate.  My husband was on the phone with her and he asked her, once again, if she was absolutely SURE that she had left here with me, "Do you think that you took it home?" he asked her.  She was positive that she gave it to me and I did remember that but again, I don't loose things.  Is anyone listening to me?! 


Within the time of the searching and the pacing and the doubting of myself, I inevitably started to blame my husband for me not having my desk organized, papers filed away, bills paid on time, bags of documents and crap that need shredding because I am simply OVERWHELMED and tired and up to my chin in responsibilities and never being able to get ahead and worrying way too much about others and tired of the bullshit that others bring into my life because they don't know what a day in my life is...!

I lost it, the Title.  I lost it, my temper.  I lost it, my need to keep it together.  I lost it, my sense of worth.  I yelled and I insulted and I took it out on the closest person in my proximity that I show this raw, broken down side to, my husband.

Five minutes after ALL that, my Mother called him and told him that she had found the Title sitting on her dresser and that she was so sorry to have put me through that.  Then I cried...


'Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.- Oscar Wilde~

Sisters...

My four maternal sisters at my wedding 2003
(left to right)
Melissa, Michelle, Me, Carie & Mercy

I have three Daughters.  Yes, THREE Daughters!  And, so?  Um-hm! Oh please tell us, Vanessa, what does that mean?  Three Daughters basically means that I have three of everything to deal with.  Three times the whining.  Three times the bickering.  Three times the, Mom! (So and So) touched me!, Mom! (So and So) looked at me!, Mom! (So and So) put a booger in my hair! Three times the girly-girl, life is coming to a stand still, hold the phone, what just happened?, DRAMA.  Period.

Daughters are lovely, and sweet and adorable and all but they are also SO very emotionally draining.  When they're not arguing in the background of my husband and I trying to watch a flick, they're whacking each other over the head because someone tore the head off the other's Polly Pocket.

The dynamic of three little girls is nothing less than, Oh my fucking goodness! What the hell did I get into?!  Seriously, I feel like this often because it's almost surreal to witness the amount of high intensity and sheer panic these little darlings emit in less than twenty seconds flat! UNREAL!

Okay, okay, all the drama aside, these three little girls of mine are true Sisters.  It's the law of Sisters, I suppose.  You know, to fight, to argue, to yell at to then make up, laugh again, hug each other and love one another no matter what.  It's what they do.  It's how they live with one another.  It's how they love each other day after day in spite of the bickering and yelling and the tearing off of each others Polly Pocket doll heads.  I get it.

I have Sisters.  I have MANY Sisters.  I have four Sisters on my Mother's side and two Sisters on my Father's side.  Yes, you read that correctly, no lie.  Please, do explain, Vanessa... 

Well, it goes a little like this:  My Mother had two gorgeous little girls before me (I'm Daughter #3 on my Mom's side).  But I was Daughter #1 on my Father's side.  Follow?  So my Mother had me (her #3) and then another Daughter (her #4) and then another Daughter (her #5).  That covers Mom!

After I was born and my parents divorced, my Father went on to have a Son (his #2) and a Daughter (his #3) with his second marriage.  Then he got divorced (AGAIN), re-married and had two more after that, a Son (his #4) and a Daughter (his #5).  Did I lose you, because I may have lost my train of thought already?! But this is about Sisters! Okay, so, as I was saying...Basically, I'm the only child between my Mother and Father.  Here comes the BUT...But I have a relationship with at least four of the six Sisters I have.  Gee, isn't that nice! 

It's a little complicated because not all of them live in the same city or State as me.  Having so many siblings from different Fathers and Mothers makes things a little wacky, nevertheless.  I obviously wasn't raised with all of them (especially my Mother's first two) but that's a whole other story.  I was raised with my Mother's #4 and partially with her #5 (until she was two years old).  I never really felt like I had a real sibling because we never shared the same Father.  It's kind of a big deal having the same Mom but not the same Dad because there are so many disparities between the siblings.  It's difficult to explain.

In any case, having so many Sisters is interesting but difficult at the same time.  Why difficult?  If it were up to me, I would have extremely close relationships with ALL of them.  I've tried and I've failed miserably.  I would want to share my entire life with them without any emotional barriers.  The fact is, we all come with our own set of traumas and issues and bias'.  It's what comes with being partly related as Sisters.  I want to feel like I can count on any of them.  I probably feel like I can partly count on one or two of them, if that.  I love them all.  I miss them all and I wish that I could simply be a true Sister just like my own Daughters are with each other.

In the meantime, I'll continue to work on the relationships I have with the ones that try to have one with me.  I will always be open to the others because I have nothing keep and everything to share...

To all of my Sisters (M, M, C, M, L, A), I love you, I'm here and I will always be...

Openly,
Vanessa 


A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.- 
Isadora James~