Remember Him and Make a Plan!

May 18th should be my dad's 53rd Birthday, but he never got past 46, so in honor of him I'm blogging my Victims Impact Speech...it is quite lengthy and has a tendency to make people cry...so make sure ya have 10 mins and a couple tissues. I give this speech nearly every month to a group of ppl sentenced to attend for DUI, MIP, etc.....

On October 9, 2003, I was a different person then I am today. I was having the best year of my life. I had just got married, just found out I was pregnant; the next day was going to be my last one at work-shifting to stay at home mom (I already had a 2 year old, Levi). I went to bed early that night, ecstatic- nothing was going to bring me down. Or so I thought.

But on that evening, my dad, Stan Williams, was hit by a drunk driver. He was on his motorcycle and the drunk driver was in a dually 1 ton truck.

My dad loved motorcycles. He had ridden them since 15 or maybe even younger. The summer of 2003 he had swapped out the front end making his Heritage Softail into a Springer Softail. He had only had it back a few weeks. That October was unseasonably warm. And October 9th was one of those beautiful days. My dad spent that morning helping to put a new roof on his house. When he went to leave for work that afternoon his bike wouldn't start and he almost took his truck but on that last attempt it started. I wish it wouldn't have.

He got out of work at 10:30 and was headed home, but by 10:40 a 911 call was out. My phone started ringing a little after 11 but I had already went to bed and had the ringer upstairs turned off. I never go to bed before midnight but that day I did and so did my husband. I feel so guilty for sleeping thru the calls. But at 2 am cops were banging on my door. I woke up my husband; he looked out the window and said it was the cops. Strangely, I didn't think anything of it. I stayed upstairs but was standing by my bedroom door. I heard bits and pieces. Rebecca live here? Her dad…accident…Hurley. I shut the bedroom door. I knew because of the weather he had taken his motorcycle. I started getting dressed. I was deciding who to call at 2 am to leave my son with. My husband came up stairs and told me everything would be all right. I knew it wouldn't. As soon as I had heard the cop say "her dad" I knew it wasn't alright. I went into zombie mode. We dropped my son with my in-laws and headed to Hurley as fast as we could. When we got to the hospital it was like the building was abandoned. We couldn't find anyone. Finally we walked past a waiting room and I saw my grandma on the phone. She sugar-coated it for me and told me he was in surgery. They took us to a huge, but empty waiting room. A nurse popped in occasionally but really had nothing to say. I was filled with questions.

I kept wondering what had happened. I knew my dad was a cautious rider; he wasn't some kid out for a joyride. He was a responsible rider who had been on a motorcycle most of his life. I didn't think it was a purposeful act such as someone who had been drinking decided to drive and put others at risk, Just an accident, a horrible accident. But I was wrong. This was no accident and I will not say my dad was killed in an accident. He was killed in a crash by a drunk driver. Accidents can't be prevented. Choosing to drink and drive then killing someone that can be prevented.

As I was sitting in that waiting room thank God I didn't know what had really happened. A man who was only thinking about himself that night turned left into a bar right in front of my dad. There we no skid marks from my dad's Harley. He didn't even have a chance to try to avoid it. As he lay on the street dying the man who hit him didn't go over to check on him. He ran to a van in a parking lot to hide his beer bottles underneath. He left my dad lying on Davison road, dying. Thankfully, others stopped to help. In court I heard one of the men testify that he tried to help my dad so he didn't choke on his own blood. All the witness accounts were that they new he was really bad off.

But lets go back to the hospital at about 3:30 am. The nurse came in and told us if we went to a hallway we would be able to see him for a moment. He was out of surgery but still had some internal bleeding they couldn't find the cause of so he was going for a test and we could see him as they rushed by. Waiting in the hallway I was preparing myself as best I could, but I was no way prepared for what I saw. Had I not been told that this was my dad, I would not have believed them. He was so swollen from going into shock, they couldn't even close up after the surgery so they had some special covering for the opening in his stomach. He looked as if he was pregnant and he was by no means a big man. He was so pale from the loss of blood, tubes and blood everywhere, it wasn't my dad, it was a man I didn't recognize lying on a gurney dying. But it was him. We only had a few seconds to see him. I yelled down the hall "I love you daddy, don't go." I can't get that image of him out of my head.

Then, they moved us into a different waiting room- a small one with a door. The Dr's kept coming in telling us how bad he was. There was talk about if they could save his legs but I wasn't concerned about that. Forget about his legs, save his life I kept thinking. My mom was obsessed with the saving of the legs, she was just not comprehending that wasn't the real issue. I remember bits and pieces, blood he needs blood, but he isn't clotting, he need platelets, broken bones, surgery, more tests… one nurse told us "he is the sickest person in the whole hospital right now."

In the waiting room was myself and my husband, he was feeling helpless as I was lost in my zombie world telling him that I just knew my dad wasn't going to make it. My mom was talking about saving his legs, my grandma had her rosary out praying, my uncle was sitting at a table with his head down, my aunt was scared and angry. Then at 10 to 6, two Doctors walked in. All the other times it was just one so I knew. I don't recall what they said, what they looked like, even if they were male or female. I just knew. I heard crying, " no, no" being repeated. And just horrible, horrible sobbing. I couldn't be in the room, I couldn't hear that. I ran out to the hallway and just fell on the floor sobbing and a nurse came and told me I couldn't cry there. My husband scooped me up and took me to the room the elevators were in and shut that door. I threw-up in a garbage can. They say we either have fight or flight, I went with flight. I had to leave the hospital right then. I didn't want to stay and wait until he was cleaned up so I could see him. I needed to leave, as if it wouldn't be true if I wasn't there. I made sure someone would drive my mom home and I left.

On the way out of the hospital I was still crying and watching people walk by me, they have no idea what has just happened. I kept thinking, how can they just walk by? We got to my in-laws and at the door my mother in law said "so" and my husband just shook his head. She hugged me. I didn't want to leave their house. Again my flight, I thought if I am here it isn't real. I laid in their bed just in a daze, I couldn't sleep but I couldn't move either. My son Levi woke up and I heard him in the other room- his first word that morning was "papa" almost as if he had seen him, and I believe he did. I finally called a few friends and that is when I heard it- I heard myself telling my friends that my dad was dead. I couldn't talk anymore after that.

My sister had come from Lansing to go to my moms and bring her to my house so I had to leave to meet them there. I made my husband go home first and pick up our pajamas and clear all the "go to the hospital" messages off the machine. Again, I wanted to pretend it wasn't true.

When my sister was at our mom's she gave her a bag that the hospital had given her of my dad's belongings…this is a quote from a letter my sister wrote to the judge about that bag…

"My mother handed me a plastic bag full of items and ran away crying.I slowly opened the bag to find his work clothes covered in blood, one shoe, a wallet, and his wedding ring.My first thought was shock and panic when I saw only one shoe in the bag.All I could think of at that moment was "What horrible thing had this person done to Stan to only leave one shoe in the bag."My heart felt such pity and despair for the painful injuries that my stepfather had to endure before he died.I then picked up the wallet, opened it, and began to go through it.There I found business cards and money completely stained brown.It took me a few seconds to realize that those brown stains were from my beloved stepfather's blood!All I could do after that was cry, and feel utterly helpless.I asked myself "What complete suffering had Stan experienced at the hands of this man?"What wounds had he inflicted that had caused Stan's blood to soak thru his clothes, permeate a leather wallet, and finally congeal on the money and business cards."


The injuries that my dad sustained were broken bones, too may to mention but some of the bones such as his legs were thru the skin, his liver was nicked, spleen removed, teeth knocked out, the fatal injury and cause of all the internal bleeding was a 2 inch tear in his heart from impact. The Doctors told us they thought he should have died at the scene but he fought for about 6 ½ hours and died at 5:20am on October 10, 2003.
 
That week I was in a daze but I have distinct memories burned in my mind forever. I had to help plan a funeral, pick out his suit, we had to decide if he looked good enough for an open casket, walk around a cemetery and pick out his grave, plan what I would say at his funeral, and say my last good-byes. At the funeral home before I saw him for the first time I had to be told what to expect, the crash had banged his face up quite a bit. I will never forget turning the corner into that room it is as if a snapshot forever suck in my head forever. To see your father in a casket, someone who was healthy and happy just days before, I can't even put into words how that feels. But I can tell you this it literally hurts, a pain in your chest as if you heart is literally breaking. When people say they have a hole in their heart it isn't just an emotional feeling but a physical one as well. It's like you can't breathe or you can't swallow, and you can't make it stop.

That pain stayed for a long time, and I can still feel it, it just isn't as constant now. Things don't get better; you just learn how to deal with them. Life never returns to normal, you learn to live with your new "ab-normal life."

The funeral… Sunday thru Wednesday was spent at the funeral home… We had 4 days of visitation which if you have ever had someone close to you die you know is a long time. Tues was my uncles birthday and we couldn’t bury his brother on it. I spent most of this time in the foyer. Every time I would walk into the room and see my dad in a casket it was like I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t bear to see him in a casket. I couldn’t even touch him.

I spoke at his funeral, it was a time to say goodbye, but how do you say goodbye to someone so important, so spectacular? I told a story of the last time I had seen him alive. We had lunch and he was wearing a shirt he wore a lot, one that used to steal out of his closet occasionally and now hangs in mine. That day a button was missing and I teased him about it. His reply was “I know it is gone but I thought I’d just try to make it work.” So at his funeral that is how I said my goodbye…I said, I know you are gone but I am going to try to make it work…

I have tried and I am still trying, it took me about 6 months to even remotely start to feel better plus I was pregnant and had all those crazy emotions going on. I just laid on the couch. I let my son watch TV all day. I didn't get dressed, I hardly ate, I actually lost weight, I couldn't sleep at night. I would play solitaire on the computer all night. It took me a long time to fall asleep before 2. It sounds crazy but I feel guilty for being asleep while my dad was fighting for his life. And when it is dark and quite that's when my brain would reliving every detail. Every injury, everything I heard in court, the nightmares I've had, what I am missing out on, what my kids are missing out on, who is going to die next, how helpless I feel, that I could loose anyone I love at anytime.

For awhile I couldn’t give people directions or ask my husband to stop and pick something up. I thought what if he stops somewhere for me and because of that he is in the wrong place at the right time and I lose him too. If he was even 5 mins late coming home from work I’d be in tears.

After my second son was born I had to stop nursing him so I could take anti depressants because I wasn’t functioning. I was trying I was really trying. I even went to counseling once a week.

But, you see, it wasn’t just having to deal with his death. It was also court dates that drug on for years, and seeing the man that killed him repeatedly as he tried to blame my dad simply because he was on a motorcycle so that meant he had to be reckless. Then, to see him sit and chat with his family as if nothing in his world changed that night. It was knowing he went to his daughter’s graduation and his sons sports; that they could hug him at any moment and being so angry that he got to do all those things and I never get to see my dad again.

It is also the new found role as caretaker to my mother. She has a brain injury and my dad took care of everything for her. With him gone that all fell on me.

I get it, I know people die and I knew more then likely my parents would die before me. But I never thought it would be so soon, he was only 46. I should have had more time. And one of the hardest parts is knowing how he died, every injury and how painful and traumatic his death was. If you ever think about losing a loved one I am sure you hope they go in their sleep or some peaceful painless way. Not having their body broken and then left on the road.

It took me a little over five years but I have finally driven down Davison Road between Center and Genesee where he was killed. I had avoided it. I mean how could I just drive over the spot where my father lost this life? It isn’t a road I will drive down whenever, but now I at least know I can.

I live in Davison so I drive past Center and Genesee road on an almost daily basis. For about a year after my dad was killed every time I was on any road between Genesee and Center I would just cry and think how he never made it to the next intersection.

It is the everyday things that hit the hardest, holidays are hard but for me I stay busy and that helps. But it is times when I hear a song, see a face in a crowd, go past a place I have a memory of my dad at. I have a hard time looking at pictures and home videos. My dad was engulfed in every part of my life and I can't just take him out because he isn't here, it isn't that easy.


My dad and I always had a tradition of going out to lunch together on Sundays after church. That was what I looked forward to the most. And one of the things I miss the most now. Sunday afternoons are always hard now. It was our "catch-up" time since we worked opposite shifts. We blabbed about everything and nothing. And on October 5, 2003, we had our last Sunday dinner. Had I known it was the last, I would have never let him go, I would have asked a million more questions, I would have hugged and kissed him more, well there are too many I would haves to mention them all.

My oldest son Levi, was 2 when my dad was killed. My dad was crazy about him. My dad had told me he wanted a boy, someone to help with the yard work he would joke. Levi doesn't remember being with his papa he only remembers the stories I have told him.

Then there is Wyatt. I was pregnant with him when my dad was killed. He has my dad’s middle name and initials inverted. Wyatt won’t have any memories of his grandpa and none I can tell him. And my dad and Wyatt would have been best buds for sure. My dad loved video games and Wyatt is a video game addict. He can beat entire games on his own and he is 4yrs old.

And now I have a little girl Lucy, there are no memories of her and her papa for me to share with her either.

So we get balloons and on the day of his death and his birthday we have dinner at his favorite restaurant and we let balloons go from the cemetery. Those are the memories my kids get of their grandpa. And he would have been a spectacular grandpa. I don’t know about you but I have a TON of memories with my grandparents and my kids don’t get that. That makes me not only sad but angry.

Angry that because one person thought more of themselves then anyone else on this planet, my family's lives have to completely change. Someone who had had previous alcohol related driving issues and knew the consequences but choose to chance fate anyways. That makes me angry. Will my anger go away. I don't know, I don't know if I want it to. What I want more then anything is my dad back. That's not possible so I wanted justice, I didn't really get that either. So now I want to make a difference.

My dad’s favorite group was Kansas. At his funeral that is the only music we played. A line from a song is “When my life starts to fade, I can only hope that every choice I’ve made will endure and carry on into the coming dawn.” I take that line to mean that my dad raised me well and since he isn’t here I have to be the person he raised me to be and to make that difference.

My husband asks me how I can do this every month. Why I would want to relive it. He can’t even read through my speech it is too hard for him. So I tell him, I don't want anyone to endure this senseless tragedy. Hopefully I made a difference to someone and my dad’s death wasn’t for nothing, he hasn’t been forgotten about.

So please learn from his death and make a plan to ensure you never drink and drive. You don't want your family to be sent home with your bloodstained clothes or have to explain to a 2 year old that Papa can't come and play. Next time you see a balloon floating away remember Levi, Wyatt, and Lucy and how that is the only way they can feel close to their papa.

Here is a LINK to a video of him. It also contains crash scene photos from the police department.

 May 18, 1957- October 10, 2003

The Stevens Time Zone

Being a morning person... it is something I kinda want... I think it might be nice to enjoy the quiet time when 2 of the 3 short people are off at school, birds are chirping, lawns are being mowed (right outside my window, every day, MARK!). Oh wait are those nice sounds or annoying ones? When I am trying to sleep they are annoying- maybe awake they are better? But I just can't get this morning thing down even though my neighbors are trying to help.

(I started that paragraph talking about enjoying the quiet but then immediately went off on morning noises I'd hear if I was awake. Yes, I noticed that but no, I'm not changing it- every time I tried I went off on a stupid tangent and you really don't want to read any more of those then you have to so just pretend it flows well okay!)

I have this idea ingrained in my head that if the clock doesn't say 11 well then sorry I need to stay in bed! Even if I feel awake, if I get up, I'll just be so tired. Maybe I should just change all the clocks in our house. My family will have it's own time zone. I think this is a fine idea, it will be Stevens Time, not to be confused with hammer time...oh ya can't tough this ne ne ne-ne ne-ne ne-ne.....  oh sorry, back to Stevens Time (break it down) it will be 5 hours off from Eastern Standard. So 8pm, well that will be 1am to us. My kids don't have to be to the bus at 7, heck no! Noon it is! 1am , well that is bedtime for them! No more kids asking to stay up late- I'll have them fooled! Oh what honey you failed your test on telling time because you said lunch was at 5pm and your teacher said that was  dinner time....Oh, your teacher says there is no such thing as the Stevens Time Zone, well she is mistaken honey....

The more I think about it the more certain I am that Stevens Time is the way to go. I don't like to go to bed early or wake up early but it is always because of what the clock says, not necessarily because of how tired or awake I am. It is just that crazy idea in my head telling me to stay up at night and stay in bed in the mornings. The clock is controlling me!!!

Okay, so there is an actual time zone that is 5 hours off from ours, one I can claim other then Stevens Time, the BST, British Summer Time. Yep, I'm British. But wait that's not right...I mean time wise it is for changing our clock in order to trick my brain. But if I want an excuse to stay in bed and say I am waking up at a decent hour- oh well  then I am Hawaiian! Yep, they are 6 hours behind us! I always new I loved Hawaii!

Do you think we take credit?

**Do not respond to this ad if someone dear to you is close to death, if your car breaking down would really disrupt your day, you don’t really want to rush someone to the hospital, or if your sick days are all accounted for.***

I think I should start my Criagslist ads with this warning.

Apparently responding to my ad’s means one of these things will happen to you. At first I thought this coincidence was just that, a strange coincidence. People have car problems, kids get sick, grandparents die…all things that happen on a daily basis to people everywhere. I’m just having some bad luck with buyers, or more like my buyers are just having some bad luck.

But then  buyer after buyer, excuse after excuse…

“Oh! The breaks on my car went out, I’m so sorry. How about tomorrow?”
“I had to take my son to the ER, he broke his arm. I’ll come in a few days. Okay?”
“My grandma died.”
“I had to go to the Dr today and now I’m on antibiotics and I can’t be around people for 24 hours.”

These are just a few of the many, and I mean MANY excuses I have heard. What is even more annoying about all of these excuses is they are never given to me prior to the meeting time. Nope, always after, sometimes hours, other time days. Seriously people! We live in an age of technology, there are phones everywhere. Email, just as easy to get to. So why people, why can you get a hold of me before you disrupt my day. I tend to be a bit of a people pleaser so even if a time isn’t super convenient for me if it is for you I will try to make it work. Why do I do this? I know all of you are just going to screw me over. One would think I'd learn my lesson. No-showers I hate you!!!

Why is our society so rude? Why only care about yourself? I mean really, if I made a commitment to meet someone and there was some reason I couldn’t make it I would do everything I could to contact the person I was meeting. If my internet was down I would call a friend to email or look up a number for me. No phone, I’d walk to a neighbors. It would take a lot and I mean a lot to keep me from fulfilling my commitments. Isn't this what your mama taught you, or have people stopped teaching their children common courtesy?

Seriously people, if you don’t want to buy something then just don’t email me! And if you have committed to buy but then changed your mind- pick up the phone or the keyboard!!!

My other personal Craiglist favorite- The email that simply states “ is this still available?” Nope, ya know I just posted it 5 minutes ago but it’s gone already. I’m so isolated I post ads for things I don’t have to sell and things I do sell, well I leave those ads up just so I can get an email from you! And if you really want something why not ask a question about the item you have other then its avaliability? Maybe mention when you could pick up, ya know something to show the seller you are actually interested not that you have nothing more to do then email back and forth all day!

Then there is "that" person, the one who emails back and forth with you for days only to tell you that they don’t have any money at the moment. Really? So WHY ARE YOU SHOPPING!!!! This is Craigslist, do you think we take credit cards? How about we just give it to you free, is that what you are hoping for?


AHHHHH!!!! I get so annoyed with Craigslist, it makes me not want to even bother trying to sell my junk, just donate it instead. Every now and then I have a good experience so I guess that is what draws me back. Plus the ease of not having to ship it like I would with eBay, not take up my whole weekend like a garage sale, and the whole not just having junk sitting in my house part.

But still buyer beware, if you plan to buy from me bad luck is sure to come your way! So at the moment I’m selling Little People…..any interest???? Do you dare?

Feeling Flaky?

Marmaduke thinks he is Nemo.... Yep, my dumb dog thinks he is a fish.

Okay, maybe he doesn't really think he is a fish but apparently flakes just sounded like the best food ever to him. Why does this dog act like we never feed him? And flakes? Really? Yes, he ate an entire can of Fish Food Flakes.

The thought never crossed my mind that the dog might want to eat the fish's food. I was afraid he'd try to eat the fish. I even gave Wyatt a big speech about if Linus kills the fish how we'd get him new ones... but the fish's food??? I mean I've caught this dog gnawing on a dead bunny, he has puked up something with fur on the floor of my bedroom (did you just puke a little in your mouth?), and he even killed my friends pet guinea pig (oh and in front of the children too! gasp!) Yes, he is a murderer, so why would he settle for flakes when there are two tasty fish right there? Maybe he has seen the error of his ways and is making changes? A doggie 12 step program? I'm glad he chose the flakes over the fish but I'm shocked...

But why? I mean I shouldn't be give his history of eating any and everything. Maybe it is like some delicacy in the dog world right up there with poopy diapers. But sorry Linus, I will not be stocking up on flakes for you (and we are done with diapers too).

"But Then, Tragically..."

So most of my blogs I try to keep light hearted. This one I hope goes that way though it is starting out more seriously, so hang in there with me!

I miss my dad. I miss him a lot. Spring seems to make it kick in, all the motorcycles come out and that is something that is just so intertwined in my memories of him. And no, not just because that is how he died, on a bike. It is just too many little memories.

One of the main memories is hearing his bike coming down the road at night when I was little (and really even when I was big too). I just remember being so excited at that rumbling sound getting closer and closer. In the summer time when I was 5 or 6, he worked 3rd shift so the nightly routine was to watch Car 54 Where Are You? on Nick at Night. Right when it was about to end then the best sound would start, the rumbling. Running out to greet him, hugging him. The smell of leather and exhaust...it was my heaven, my haven, my safe place. As I got older I didn't act as excited to hear his bike coming down the road but secretly I was. It would take forever for him to get his bike all locked up and covered, on the days when the June Bugs kept me from going out to greet him I'd go crazy just waiting for him to come in, hurry up already!

The things that make me think of him change as time goes on. I think motorcycles will always stay but then there are odd things. Lately, it has been old men mowing their lawns. I promise you that if he were alive and old men mowing their lawns made me think of him, oh that would so be a joke between us! Especially with all the gray hair I am certain he'd have by now. Oh the old man jokes, they might just be never ending. But he doesn't get a chance to be old. We'll never know what he'd look like as an old man. That is the reason these old men on lawn mowers are getting to me, because I know he will never be one.

Wow, I'm super depressing here. But you should know not all memories of him depress me. Really I think more about the funny stuff now vs the pain of losing him. We had a lot of little things that were "ours" kinda like our inside jokes, though not necessarily jokes.

One of my favorites is " but then, tragically..." this is how it works and you should try it out because frankly, it's funny! You are watching a show and something happy just happened, say someone just got a new car they are excited and telling someone- this is where you cut in with " then tragically....and come up with some great scenario that fits in humorously with whatever has been going on...irony, that a makes great "but then, tragically!" You can start out with something other then "but then, tragically" Something like " then, in a strange twist of fate, suddenly, without notice, unexpectedly..."

It is also hilarious, to those of us with twisted humor to say " but then, tragically..." at the most inappropriate time.... "The cat was rescued from the tree... but then tragically, the firetruck ran it over on the way back to the station...." Okay, so that isn't the best example but it is hard to come up with one here on the spot. Really you need to be watching some uplifting show and here I am listening to Intervention as I type this. That whole show is But then, tragically... can't really make fun of that!

Brad and I now keep up this fine family tradition... I hope my kids have our same sense of humor. Bad stuff happens, we all have "But then, tragically...." in our lives. So ya might as well laugh when it isn't you and it is made up right?!

Oh dang it, where are my clothes?!

Where have my clothes gone? Where am I? Why can I not read?

I got lost today. Where? Oh, in a locker room. Why? Because I apparently am an idiot!

We took the kids to a Rec Center pool today for Wyatt's birthday party (not an official invite everyone party but his party none the less since he opted for a pricey present instead of the party with a bunch of friends) I get off topic easily so let me get back... We've never been to this Rec Center before. One other family met us for this party. The guys headed into the guys locker room and the girls to the girls (or so I thought).

As soon as we entered the locker room there was a row of lockers to your left and changing rooms to your right. If you kept heading forward you'd wind around past the bathrooms and out to the pool. While in the changing room I read a sign, "Clothes must be worn outside of changing room at all times." Well duh?! I mean really, people who walk around locker rooms naked- sorry I just don't get you. Okay, well maybe if I had an awesome body after popping out these three kids, I might just want to be like ha ha ladies look at these boobies, they are real, and see this flat stretch mark free belly, oh yeah- and I eat junk food too! But nah, probably not even if  I had that. I just can't see myself as a locker room streaker. Especially with this saggy, stretch mark covered body. No one wants or needs to see it. Especially the young and child-free, lets let them imagine their body will still be the same after they get a little older and have some kids! plus who are the locker room streakers? The people that should not be, that's who!

But back to what else I was thinking after reading the sign, wow, they must be strict about the locker room streakers, wonder why, most locker rooms are just a nudists havens. I wonder why so strict here? Seems odd.

Then another oddity that still isn't cluing me in on where I am. When I walk out of the dressing room a male employee is just walking around in there. I even told my friend, wow that was really weird a guy was just in here. I mean I know it says to keep your clothes on but come on, even though I am anti-nudist, I've quickly slipped a shirt on or off when the room was empty, so why would they let a guy into the Woman's locker room? Really? No female employees?

The lockers there don't have locks unless you brought your own, which we didn't so I then began opening and closing lockers until I found an empty one to put our clothes in. This is where a smart person would have at least looked at the locker number. Oh but not me, nope- just tossed them in and was on my merry way out to the pool. Not even considering later I'd have to relocate my clothing. Oblivious, I am simply oblivious!

We head out, have a great time swimming. Lucy has to go potty. I take her into the door marked Woman's Locker Room. Hmmm, I don't remember that shower being there? That is weird. I must have not been paying attention as we walked out.... twice, TWICE I took her and thought the hallway felt strangely new.

So then it is time to go. My friend is still rounding her family up so I head into the Woman's Locker Room with my daughter who is crying because she doesn't want to go. I'm just dragging her along. While I am walking in to the locker room I suddenly recall that I have to remember where our clothes are. Great just great, why am I so flaky sometimes? How can I be so smart (because you know I am! lol) and yet so stupid all at the same time? So now I am consumed with the fact that I am going to have to just continualy open lockers until I find the one with our clothing. I do at least recall I had a top locker, not a bottom one. That is a start right?


Ok, so where is that row of lockers across from the changing rooms? How the heck can I not find it? Walk down the hall directly to it...it is pretty simple! Am I turning somewhere without realizing it? In this locker room there is the hall from the pool, past showers and bathroom stalls, then a loop of lockers. I keep walking around the loop, like some magic Harry Potterish corridor will suddenly emerge even though this loop is seriosuly only like 15 week long! I asked three, yes THREE people, "Where is the hall where the lockers are across for the changing rooms?" Does anyone know- nope. Lucy is still crying, it has been about 5 mins of me wandering around a relatively small locker room. How am I this stupid?

Great, just great. I can just see it now, "Um excuse me Mr. Life Guard can you please tell me how to find my clothes?" I'd be like the idiot having to be drove around a parking ramp to find her car. What am i going to do? Brad is so making fun of me when I go out there in my swim suit defeated by a locker room loop!

Then finally after far too long, it hits me! There is a FAMILY locker room. I was in the family one earlier!!! As I am walking in the correct door I then remember we came out of that middle door. Ah, this hallway looks familiar. Oh look, there are little boys in here... now that no naked people sign makes more sense! Oh here is the row of lockers across from the dressing rooms! Oh dang it, where are my clothes?!

Happy 23 and 1/4 Birthday to Me!

 My children are making me OLD! No, it isn't that time is just passing by at it's normal rate it is FLYING by. I blame them!

They are blissfully unaware that their life is speeding by and taking mine with it. And I mean SPEEDING by. I think they put themselves in overdrive and took off.

Are you grasping this- FLYING- SPEEDING! Do the CAPS help?!

Part of me is excited at the prospect of older children. The whole being able to do more, no babysitters needed, forcing them to do all the housework I don't want to do- you know the norm! No, really I mean go on vacations without having to worry about if too much walking is involved, if bathrooms and snacks are readily available, finally meeting height requirements for things so Brad or I don't have to sit out and dry upset short people tears. And yea I'm going to keep in the whole housework, jobs I don't want to do thing on my list too... I mean isn't that why we have kids, to mow the  lawn for us and be in charge of dishes? It was a major selling point for me. Child labor- whatever! lol

I wonder if the kids feel the same way as I did at their ages, like life is dragging by so slow. School weeks took forever, months felt like years, and years well man those things never changed! I hope my kids do. I hope their childhood drags on as long as possible. And I say drag as a good drag! Because shortly (from my perspective of course) they will have some work to do! Enjoy the play time while you can- bwahaha!

Seriously, 9 years ago I was 21. TWENTY-ONE!!! Then I blinked my eyes and now I am 30! Thirty?! What!? The kids get the joy of aging slowly, so what about us? Oh well we pick up all the slack and it speeds us up.There must be some math formula out there somewhere for adults vs. kids- ya know like for every one people year a dog is seven. How about once your first child is born for every 4 kid years adults only age one. Sounds good to me. So in September get ready to wish me a Happy 23 and 1/4 Birthday!

Happy 6th Birthday Wyatt!