My life is a routine, doing the same things Monday through Friday. I start the day off a few minutes before 4:30am. Laying in bed dreading David getting out of bed and leaving for work and not returning until about 7pm. His alarm goes off at 4:30, and then scheduled to go off three more times, seven minutes apart. David claims this helps him wake up more, when all it really does is get under my skin, but its a battle that I'm not going to win. He gets up at 4:51, turning on the closet light so the big light wont burn our eyes, as hes getting dressed, I head out into the kitchen and make his lunch, cereal for his 9:00 break, last nights leftovers for his 12:00 lunch break, and a little debbies snack for his last break at 3:00, add in two cans of mountain dew and a bottle cool blue gatorade, and his big blue lunch box is packed for the day. Davids out the door for the day at 5:07am.
Its 5:07 and I have no were I have to be until 2:30. For nine and a half hours its just me and my dog, Brodey. I dont go back to bed because I hate sleeping when I'm home alone, if someones going to break in, I at least want to be able to escape. So, I head to the laundry room, folding the clothes in the drier, putting the clothes from the washer into the drier, and then taking care of the newly folded clothes. From there, I make the bed, telling Brodey I wish his Daddy would learn to put his dirty clothes in the hamper just four feet away from his usual pile. After cleaning up the bedroom, I make my way to the sink, by now the sun is starting come up, I look out the window above the sink as I begin to soak my hands in dish water, my mind starts to wander what life has in store for me next. I graduate this spring, will I go back to get a different degree? Will I look for a full time job? or is now the time to start having a family? Most importantly, how will I decide? As these questions boggle my mind, I look down at Brodey whos laying directly beside my feet, so close to them I can feel his warm breath. He looks back up at me. I wonder what he's thinking. Does he know hes a dog? I wonder if he gets sick of me? Do all dogs REALLY go to heaven? (A question that crosses my mind more often than not.) My mind refocuses on the dishes as I prick my finger one the tip of a steak knife.
I finish up the dishes, its about 7:00am, and I notice Brodey's dish is empty. I fill his water dish up, spilling a little on me as I try to gently put it down, then picking up his food dish and filling it to the brim with pedigree. I set it down and he looks up at me. As usual, I have to ask myself, is he sick of eating the same thing every day? Does it even taste good? As I go to walk away to inspect the floors, I apologize to him for having to eat the same thing every day. I look around the floors, clearly, they need to be swept and washed. I dread this task the most, considering it takes the longest time.
I begin to sweep, and my mind leaves me again. What would I go back to school for? Nursing has always been in the plan, getting my R.N., getting a job somewhere that doesnt require working weekends, and settle into a new routine. Unfortuately, I remind myself that in health care, its 24/7, no weekends off, especially in hospitals and nursing homes. So where would I work as an R.N. that would give weekends off? Weekends off are important to me, they give me something to look forward to, they're the only two days off that have unexpected schedules, adding some spontaneous excitement into my life. Ok, so maybe going back to school for medical assisting? That'd be ideal, I could get a job at a doctors office, they always have weekends off, even holidays. That'd be perfect. I catch myself, remembering that I heard medical assistants do the same work as an R.N. only get paid less. I quickly decide the money doesnt matter. Weekends off with a normal work schedule is what I want. Or is it?
The floors are now all swept and its about 8:30am now, which means that in about thirty minutes I'll be exchanging a few text messages with David while hes on his 9:00 break. I move onto the mop and orange glow, and it doesnt take but seconds to fall back into my future.
Is back to school the way to go, or is having our first child? One minute I've got it in my mind that I could do it, waking up all hours of the night, settling right down into pure family mode, and then I quickly ask myself, "What are you thinking?". I get scared, can I REALLY do that. What will people think? I'm married, but we're still just 22. Maybe we should wait? or should we? Who decides this? Oh, wait, we do. I can see it now, nine months of mood swimgs for David to deal with, labor that will, hopefully, bring David and I even more closer, falling a little more in love with eachother, most of all, falling into a new love. A love with our child. I go back to questioning school. Will I find a good enough job with the degree I'll get this Spring when I gradute to help take care of our little family, or is it smarter to go back for two more years to ensure it? The only thing I decide on is that I'm way too indecisive.
I'm brought back to reality when Brodey walks across the freshly washed floors. He's just a dog, what does he know? Besides hes already scared of the mop and broom for no reason, no need to get all bent out of shape over a few paw prints. It's 10:00 now, four and a half hours until I have to be at work. I'm worn out, so Brodey and I go lay down on the bed. As usual, I lay on Davids side of the bed, Brodey on mine, he lays on his back, my left arm is around him and he's snuggled up into my armpit, while I stroke his soft, silky ear.
Which reminds me. Will Brodey be good with kids? Will I be good with kids? More specifically, a boy? Brodey is a boy and David claims I've "ruined" him. He's the most sensitive dog either of us have ever seen, even slightly feminine. David wanted a mans dog, one that would ride in the back of his truck, that would go hunting with him, and spend days in the garage with him. Not Brodey, over my dead body will he be riding in the back of a pick up truck, and he wouldnt come out from underneath the bed after a gun shot to even go hunting, and garage? No, he spends days with mommy, cuddling and being talked to as if he is capable of responding. So a son? Would I "ruin him"? Make him a mommy's boy? I told David he'd have to build us a sand box and get us some tonka toys, so I could make him a mans man. But I cant compromise on the cuddling.
Its 10:30, and I've got homework. I concentrate better at the dining room table, but talk myself into sitting in the recliner to do the work. It takes longer than usual as I bounce between facebook, Bangor Daily news, and texting my mom. But finally at about 1:15 I decide I'm done my homework for the day. I have to get ready for work now.
The shower is another spot I spend time thinking about our future. I feel stressed out and overwhelmed, I feel as if David and I's lives are depending on the decicion I chose. He supports me either way, baby or school, he's ready for our own little family as much as I am. Just like any other day, I decide that when David gets home I'll talk to him, see what he thinks we should do, what I should do. I know I'll just get the same answer, "Hun, its what you want. If you think school for two more years is best, then I do too, if you want to have a baby, then I do too." I need decisions to be made, I need to get out of my routine, add a little excitement to my life. I hop in the car at 2:00 and being my thirty minute drive, where again, I'll be alone with my thoughts, battling where I want to go next in life.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Week 8
Ever since my dad's 49th birthday, he's been wrestling with the fact that he's getting too old to do certain things, being my dad though, he's too stubborn to give into that. He's not only trying to prove to himself that he can still do 'a man's job' but also to us, even though none of us three kids, or, mom have ever questioned that to begin with. There seems to be a new adveture for him atleast once a month, sometimes twice. Since his 49th birthday, some of his 'man tasks' has included unloaded six ton of pellets by himself, doing so deliberately. He had the pellet mill deliver the pellets at a time he knew noone would be home, as well as knowing noone would be there for the rest of the day, when mom found out he did this, she went up one side of him and down the other. Other things he's done since his birthday is building a shed all by himself, not allowing anyone to even hand him a nail, reading directions on how to fix the furnace, with bad eyes, knowing he has bad eyes, still refusing to see an eye doctor. All of us are burdened with worry, not knowing what dad will be proving to us this month, or week, we worry about his health, and how he could seriously hurt himself completeing these 'man jobs'.
It was a Sunday, and it fairly windy, but the sun was still shining with not a cloud in sight, had it not been for the wind, it would have been pretty warm for a fall day. All of us kids were at the house with our significant others, waiting for Sunday dinner to finish cooking. Us two girls in the kitchen helping mom set the table and get things ready, while the three boys were out skeet shooting at a Pit about twenty minutes away. Dad was out sitting on the steps on the deck, appearing to be day dreaming, when all of a sudden, he stands up and rushes into the house.
"I gotta do something about that branch hanging over the garage, Mary. It's not good." Dad said to mom.
Us three girls, including mom, went outside to examine this threatening branch dad was so worried about. It was so unnoticable that we had to have him point it out, with I could tell got under his skin a little bit.
"It's right there!" He says, pointing to a strong branch, about ten feet above the garage, still attached to the tree, showing now signs of giving out any time soon.
We all walk back into the house, to finish what we were doing, all hoping that dad was just going to move on. But instead he goes out into the entry way, puts on his work boots, and grabs a pair of work gloves before heading out the door and yelling to mom, "Dont worry about it. I'll take care of it." We all stop what we are doing, and all look at mom, then eachother, sharing the same thought of, "oh God."
Mom quickly looks at me and asks when the boys will be back, "I dont know. They didnt say, and they dont have reception in the pit."
The three of us rush outside, trying to persuade dad to at least wait until the boys get home so they can help him. Dad immediately cuts me off, refusing the idea, but really refusing the help. There's no talking him out of doing 'a man's job', and certainly no talking him into waiting for help. The word help at 49 years and 10 months old just makes his skin crawl.
Off dad goes, grabbing two ladders; leaning one against the garage to get him to the top of the garage addition roof, which was atleast flat, up he goes, carrying the second one on top of the roof, and placing it against the tree.
"Daren, just stop, please, wait for David and Andrew to get here, they have experience with this stuff. All they use is tree climbing shoes, this is too dangerous!" Mom, trying to plead with dad. He just ignores her, climbs back down the ladder onto the ground, and into the garage. Us girls just stand there looking at eachother, Ashley constantly dialing Andrews number trying to reach the boys, but it just goes to voice mail every time. We hear banging, and crashing in the garage, and out comes dad with a chainsaw. This really gets mom going.
"DAREN! YOU ARE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF. ENOUGH!" She yells.
"Dad just wait, they should be here in no more than a half hour, just wait!" I tell him.
"Girls," He says, as if to calm his little fan club, "I'm alright. I'm just gonna cut the branch off. If I wait until winter to do it, it'll pile up with snow, get weak, and fall on the addition roof. I aint waitin' for that to happen." He says, proudly, as if he was rescuing us.
He climbs up the first ladder, chainsaw in tow, he's up on the addition roof, starts the chainsaw to have it ready when he gets up to the branch, and starts to make his way up the second ladder.
"I'm not fuckin' watching this, I'm not gonna watch your father kill himself." Mom spouts off as she stomps off on her way back inside. Ashley still trying to dial to get a hold of the boys.
Dads up there now, revving up the chain saw, getting ready to cut-when Andrew finally picks up the phone.
"Get home now, Dad needs help!" She quickly gets out so he doesnt lose service before she can get her urgent message out. Before he could reply, the ladder slipped out from underneath dad, and away he fell, chainsaw and all.
We both screamed, forcing mom to run out from the house. "DAREN!" My mother screams, "Ashley call an ambulance!!"
Dad's conscious, grabbing his leg, covered in blood. His bone was sticking through his skin, not a lot, but enough to make me puke. Just above it was where the chainsaw had hit his knee cap, leaving a straight-cut wound just above his knee cap. Dad wasnt crying or howling in pain, but biting his lip, to show no pain. The only thing he said was, "Where the hell were the boys?!" His way of asking, where was the help!
****
Since X-Rays had shown that he had also hurt his back, he ended up having to stay in the hospital for about two weeks. All the times we visited, he seemed to be overly proud of his adventure and battle wounds. I'll never forget the day we had gone up to pick him up to take him home. He was wheeled out in a wheel chair, and as he was standing up from the wheel chair to get onto his crutches to finish the journey to the car, he said, "I gotta see what I can do about that branch now, that cant be there when winter comes."
It was a Sunday, and it fairly windy, but the sun was still shining with not a cloud in sight, had it not been for the wind, it would have been pretty warm for a fall day. All of us kids were at the house with our significant others, waiting for Sunday dinner to finish cooking. Us two girls in the kitchen helping mom set the table and get things ready, while the three boys were out skeet shooting at a Pit about twenty minutes away. Dad was out sitting on the steps on the deck, appearing to be day dreaming, when all of a sudden, he stands up and rushes into the house.
"I gotta do something about that branch hanging over the garage, Mary. It's not good." Dad said to mom.
Us three girls, including mom, went outside to examine this threatening branch dad was so worried about. It was so unnoticable that we had to have him point it out, with I could tell got under his skin a little bit.
"It's right there!" He says, pointing to a strong branch, about ten feet above the garage, still attached to the tree, showing now signs of giving out any time soon.
We all walk back into the house, to finish what we were doing, all hoping that dad was just going to move on. But instead he goes out into the entry way, puts on his work boots, and grabs a pair of work gloves before heading out the door and yelling to mom, "Dont worry about it. I'll take care of it." We all stop what we are doing, and all look at mom, then eachother, sharing the same thought of, "oh God."
Mom quickly looks at me and asks when the boys will be back, "I dont know. They didnt say, and they dont have reception in the pit."
The three of us rush outside, trying to persuade dad to at least wait until the boys get home so they can help him. Dad immediately cuts me off, refusing the idea, but really refusing the help. There's no talking him out of doing 'a man's job', and certainly no talking him into waiting for help. The word help at 49 years and 10 months old just makes his skin crawl.
Off dad goes, grabbing two ladders; leaning one against the garage to get him to the top of the garage addition roof, which was atleast flat, up he goes, carrying the second one on top of the roof, and placing it against the tree.
"Daren, just stop, please, wait for David and Andrew to get here, they have experience with this stuff. All they use is tree climbing shoes, this is too dangerous!" Mom, trying to plead with dad. He just ignores her, climbs back down the ladder onto the ground, and into the garage. Us girls just stand there looking at eachother, Ashley constantly dialing Andrews number trying to reach the boys, but it just goes to voice mail every time. We hear banging, and crashing in the garage, and out comes dad with a chainsaw. This really gets mom going.
"DAREN! YOU ARE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF. ENOUGH!" She yells.
"Dad just wait, they should be here in no more than a half hour, just wait!" I tell him.
"Girls," He says, as if to calm his little fan club, "I'm alright. I'm just gonna cut the branch off. If I wait until winter to do it, it'll pile up with snow, get weak, and fall on the addition roof. I aint waitin' for that to happen." He says, proudly, as if he was rescuing us.
He climbs up the first ladder, chainsaw in tow, he's up on the addition roof, starts the chainsaw to have it ready when he gets up to the branch, and starts to make his way up the second ladder.
"I'm not fuckin' watching this, I'm not gonna watch your father kill himself." Mom spouts off as she stomps off on her way back inside. Ashley still trying to dial to get a hold of the boys.
Dads up there now, revving up the chain saw, getting ready to cut-when Andrew finally picks up the phone.
"Get home now, Dad needs help!" She quickly gets out so he doesnt lose service before she can get her urgent message out. Before he could reply, the ladder slipped out from underneath dad, and away he fell, chainsaw and all.
We both screamed, forcing mom to run out from the house. "DAREN!" My mother screams, "Ashley call an ambulance!!"
Dad's conscious, grabbing his leg, covered in blood. His bone was sticking through his skin, not a lot, but enough to make me puke. Just above it was where the chainsaw had hit his knee cap, leaving a straight-cut wound just above his knee cap. Dad wasnt crying or howling in pain, but biting his lip, to show no pain. The only thing he said was, "Where the hell were the boys?!" His way of asking, where was the help!
****
Since X-Rays had shown that he had also hurt his back, he ended up having to stay in the hospital for about two weeks. All the times we visited, he seemed to be overly proud of his adventure and battle wounds. I'll never forget the day we had gone up to pick him up to take him home. He was wheeled out in a wheel chair, and as he was standing up from the wheel chair to get onto his crutches to finish the journey to the car, he said, "I gotta see what I can do about that branch now, that cant be there when winter comes."
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Week 7 Re-Write
David likes to help people, goes out of his way to do so, even if he knows he wont be appreciated in the end for doing so. Last month, on October 15th, his friend needed help moving down to Rumford, a four hour round trip from home. David's friend called him at 8:00am needing him by 10:30am. David never complained though, he drove the half hour to where his friend used to live, helped load stuff into his own truck, and started out on the four hour trip. His friend never offered to pay for gas, not that David would have taken it anyway, and still after helping him unload his stuff, before leaving told his friend, ""Hey no problem! Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you, anytime."
***
Thanks to Cianbro, he works all the time, doing whatever is asked of him. David aims to please. He usually works seven days a week doing twelve hour shifts, with a weekend off here and there. The most days he has ever worked in a row is 28, in the month of May this year. On Wednesday, the 18th day, he was told he'd have the coming weekend off. He was relieved, and looking forward to a couple of days off, but didn't show it. Friday, the 20th, his foreman told him he needed help for the weekend, and it would be manditory that he work the weekend, the was supposed to have off. David never showed a sign of disappointment, or even complained. He had worked 28 days straight, 28 days of getting up at 4:30am, with an hour drive to and from work, 28 days of getting home at 7, and then eating supper, and from the supper table to bed, but never once complained.
His wife, who he's been married to for two and a half years, sure knows how to pick an argument. She gets heated pretty fast, spouting off hurtful things, walking out of the rooms he follows her into, opening the doors she's slammed in his face. But he doesnt raise his voice, not once. He tries to comfort her, tries to hug her, and constantly apologizing, even though its not his fault, and she knows that.
Three months ago, in August, things got pretty heated. He came home late from work, tired, and just wanting to shower and go to sleep. His wife had cleaned the house that day, and when he walked into the house started to put stuff everywhere. Walking around with his dirt filled boots all over the freshly washed floors, threw his dirty flannel shirt onto of the clean counter stop, carelessly put his lunch box ontop of the dryer, and started to take his clothes off there. Heading toward the shower just in his boxers, he left his dirty carrharts on the floor by the door, with his socks and shirt piled ontop of his boots.
"David, do you even care that I spent the entire day cleaning this house, and you single handly, just messed everything up?!" She spouted off.
"What the hell are you talking about? I took all of my stuff off there because it's covered in dirt, and didnt want to track it all through the house!" He replied.
"So who's going to clean up this mess you piled all over the kitchen?" She quickly said.
"I will, just give me a minute, please. I just walked in the door." He replied, calm as ever.
"Yeah, right. You do this all the time, pile you shit everywhere and it just magically gets cleaned up."
They then spent the next hour and a half arguing. When things simmer down, she apologizes over and over again for the hurtful things she had said, and for getting angry for no reason. David accepts them, and forgives, no questions asked. She would have held a grudge, argued for even longer if he had ever said the things to her that she had said to him. But he doesnt, he's extremely forgiving. Forgiving to the point that in his mind, it never happened. David gives the true meaning to "forgive and forget".
***
When he loves and cares about someone he does so with his entire heart, especially when it comes to his wife. He'd go to all ends of the earth for the love he has for his wife. It seems to good to be true the way he is to her. Last December, the day after a snowstorm had dumped about nine inches of wet, heavy snow, he spent the morning shoveling. It was on a day that he had had off, and she had been working, he shaped a pile of snow into a giant heart with a shovel, then using his finger he wrote, "I Love You" on the top of it. When she came home to that, she was so excited, and flattered, which made David happy to see that something he had done for her made her so happy.
***
His mom sure knew what she was doing when she raised him. At just 22 years old, he's impossible to get angry, quick to forgive, and slow to put himself first, if ever at all. There's nothing he loves more than watching football on Sundays, the one thing he enjoys. Napping on and off, snacking throughout the day, and switching between the two games he wants to watch. Other than having a Sunday in his recliner watching footbal, he never asks for anything.
***
Thanks to Cianbro, he works all the time, doing whatever is asked of him. David aims to please. He usually works seven days a week doing twelve hour shifts, with a weekend off here and there. The most days he has ever worked in a row is 28, in the month of May this year. On Wednesday, the 18th day, he was told he'd have the coming weekend off. He was relieved, and looking forward to a couple of days off, but didn't show it. Friday, the 20th, his foreman told him he needed help for the weekend, and it would be manditory that he work the weekend, the was supposed to have off. David never showed a sign of disappointment, or even complained. He had worked 28 days straight, 28 days of getting up at 4:30am, with an hour drive to and from work, 28 days of getting home at 7, and then eating supper, and from the supper table to bed, but never once complained.
His wife, who he's been married to for two and a half years, sure knows how to pick an argument. She gets heated pretty fast, spouting off hurtful things, walking out of the rooms he follows her into, opening the doors she's slammed in his face. But he doesnt raise his voice, not once. He tries to comfort her, tries to hug her, and constantly apologizing, even though its not his fault, and she knows that.
Three months ago, in August, things got pretty heated. He came home late from work, tired, and just wanting to shower and go to sleep. His wife had cleaned the house that day, and when he walked into the house started to put stuff everywhere. Walking around with his dirt filled boots all over the freshly washed floors, threw his dirty flannel shirt onto of the clean counter stop, carelessly put his lunch box ontop of the dryer, and started to take his clothes off there. Heading toward the shower just in his boxers, he left his dirty carrharts on the floor by the door, with his socks and shirt piled ontop of his boots.
"David, do you even care that I spent the entire day cleaning this house, and you single handly, just messed everything up?!" She spouted off.
"What the hell are you talking about? I took all of my stuff off there because it's covered in dirt, and didnt want to track it all through the house!" He replied.
"So who's going to clean up this mess you piled all over the kitchen?" She quickly said.
"I will, just give me a minute, please. I just walked in the door." He replied, calm as ever.
"Yeah, right. You do this all the time, pile you shit everywhere and it just magically gets cleaned up."
They then spent the next hour and a half arguing. When things simmer down, she apologizes over and over again for the hurtful things she had said, and for getting angry for no reason. David accepts them, and forgives, no questions asked. She would have held a grudge, argued for even longer if he had ever said the things to her that she had said to him. But he doesnt, he's extremely forgiving. Forgiving to the point that in his mind, it never happened. David gives the true meaning to "forgive and forget".
***
When he loves and cares about someone he does so with his entire heart, especially when it comes to his wife. He'd go to all ends of the earth for the love he has for his wife. It seems to good to be true the way he is to her. Last December, the day after a snowstorm had dumped about nine inches of wet, heavy snow, he spent the morning shoveling. It was on a day that he had had off, and she had been working, he shaped a pile of snow into a giant heart with a shovel, then using his finger he wrote, "I Love You" on the top of it. When she came home to that, she was so excited, and flattered, which made David happy to see that something he had done for her made her so happy.
***
His mom sure knew what she was doing when she raised him. At just 22 years old, he's impossible to get angry, quick to forgive, and slow to put himself first, if ever at all. There's nothing he loves more than watching football on Sundays, the one thing he enjoys. Napping on and off, snacking throughout the day, and switching between the two games he wants to watch. Other than having a Sunday in his recliner watching footbal, he never asks for anything.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Week 7
David likes to help people, goes out of his way to do so, even if he knows he wont be appreciated in the end for doing so. If someone calls him up and needs something, he doesn't hesitate to drop what he's doing and do what is needed for the other person. David does whatever is asked of him with a smile on his face, with no complaints coming from his lips, and at the end of helping the person always says, "Hey no problem! Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you anytime."
He works all the time, doing whatever is asked of him, and then some. David aims to please. He usually works seven days a week doing twelve hour shifts, with a weekend off here and there. The most days he had ever worked in a row was 28. On Wednesday, the 18th day, he was told he'd have the coming weekend off. He was relieved, and looking forward to a couple of days off, but didn't show it. Friday, the 20th, his foreman told him he needed help for the weekend, and it would be manditory that he work the weekend, the was supposed to have off. David never showed a sign of disappointment, or even complained. He had worked 28 days straight, 28 days of getting up at 4:30am, with an hour drive to and from work, 28 days of getting home at 7, and then eating supper, and from the supper table to bed, but never once complained.
His wife sure knows how to pick an argument, sometimes doing so just because she misses him, but not knowing so. She gets heated pretty fast, spouting off hurtful things, walking out of the rooms he follows her into, opening the doors she's slammed in his face. But he doesnt raise his voice, not once. He tries to comfort her, tries to hug her, and constantly apologizing, even though its not his fault, and she knows that. When things simmer down, she apologizes over and over again for the hurtful things she had said, and for getting angry for no reason. David accepts them, and forgives, no questions asked. She would have held a grudge, argued for hours if he had ever said the things to her that she had said to him. But he doesnt, he's extremely forgiving, somethings too forgiving. Forgiving to the point that in his mind, it never happened. David gives the true meaning to "forgive and forget".
When he loves and cares about someone he does so with his entire heart, especially when it comes to his wife. He'd go to all ends of the earth for the love he has for his wife. It seems to good to be true the way he is to her. At least once a month, he has flowers delivered to their home, for her, "just because." Just because he loves her, just because he wants her to feel special and appreciated, and just because the smile on her face is worth it. Once, she came home from work to find a pile of snow in the shape of a perfect heart, and on it were the words "I love you" written with his finger. David is all about the love his wife and him share.
His mom sure knew what she was doing when she raised him. He's impossible to get angry, quick to forgive, and slow to put himself first, if ever at all. There's nothing he loves more than watching football on Sundays, the one thing he enjoys. Napping on and off, snacking throughout the day, and switching between the two games he wants to watch. Other than having a Sunday in his recliner watching footbal, he never asks for anything.
He works all the time, doing whatever is asked of him, and then some. David aims to please. He usually works seven days a week doing twelve hour shifts, with a weekend off here and there. The most days he had ever worked in a row was 28. On Wednesday, the 18th day, he was told he'd have the coming weekend off. He was relieved, and looking forward to a couple of days off, but didn't show it. Friday, the 20th, his foreman told him he needed help for the weekend, and it would be manditory that he work the weekend, the was supposed to have off. David never showed a sign of disappointment, or even complained. He had worked 28 days straight, 28 days of getting up at 4:30am, with an hour drive to and from work, 28 days of getting home at 7, and then eating supper, and from the supper table to bed, but never once complained.
His wife sure knows how to pick an argument, sometimes doing so just because she misses him, but not knowing so. She gets heated pretty fast, spouting off hurtful things, walking out of the rooms he follows her into, opening the doors she's slammed in his face. But he doesnt raise his voice, not once. He tries to comfort her, tries to hug her, and constantly apologizing, even though its not his fault, and she knows that. When things simmer down, she apologizes over and over again for the hurtful things she had said, and for getting angry for no reason. David accepts them, and forgives, no questions asked. She would have held a grudge, argued for hours if he had ever said the things to her that she had said to him. But he doesnt, he's extremely forgiving, somethings too forgiving. Forgiving to the point that in his mind, it never happened. David gives the true meaning to "forgive and forget".
When he loves and cares about someone he does so with his entire heart, especially when it comes to his wife. He'd go to all ends of the earth for the love he has for his wife. It seems to good to be true the way he is to her. At least once a month, he has flowers delivered to their home, for her, "just because." Just because he loves her, just because he wants her to feel special and appreciated, and just because the smile on her face is worth it. Once, she came home from work to find a pile of snow in the shape of a perfect heart, and on it were the words "I love you" written with his finger. David is all about the love his wife and him share.
His mom sure knew what she was doing when she raised him. He's impossible to get angry, quick to forgive, and slow to put himself first, if ever at all. There's nothing he loves more than watching football on Sundays, the one thing he enjoys. Napping on and off, snacking throughout the day, and switching between the two games he wants to watch. Other than having a Sunday in his recliner watching footbal, he never asks for anything.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Week 6 re-write Home-Sweet-Home
Today, home to me is an old farmhouse with five bedrooms, two bathrooms, situated on 5.5 acres, built in the early 1900’s. My husband, David, and I bought the house on August 5, 2009, a month before we got married. Before we moved in there was a bit work to be done, a new well, fix front of the foundation; which showed signs of giving out, completely gut out the bathroom, and of course, painting. At nineteen years old, a little paint didn’t sound like a big deal, until of course, I was the only one painting five large rooms. The excitement of painting quickly died after completing the first room. However, the excitement of, “This is ours! This is really OUR house!” still hasn’t died.
From birth to about four years old, home meant a two bedroom trailer behind my grandparents house in East Dover. Looking at pictures, it’s a miracle the four of us even lived in the trailer comfortably without getting on each others nerves from the lack of space, especially with two kids two years apart. But we made it work, my older brother, Daren, and I shared a room, that had just enough space for our toddler beds, toy box, and some space to play. Sadly, our room was the biggest of the two, my parents bedroom was big enough for a full size bed and one dresser, and just enough room to dress and shut the door. Almost all of the pictures I’ve looked at when we lived in that trailer consisted of us playing outside. Mom said every day it was nice out we were outside, the small space didn’t tire us out enough to go to bed easily she said. At the age of three my parents told us we were going to have another sibling, which meant we needed a lot more space, our tiny trailer wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
Home quickly went from a two bedroom trailer behind my grandparents to a four bedroom ranch on 4 acres in Dexter. This would be my home for the next fifteen years, until I moved out at nineteen. It took time settling into our new home, especially for Daren and I. Mom said that when she got up to tend to our new baby brother at night, she found either Daren in my room sleeping on the floor or me in Daren’s room sleeping on the floor. Our biggest challenge was having our own bedroom, she didn’t think we were scared of sleeping alone in our own room, but we had just been used to having each other. That phase lasted about two months, and once we finally got settled into our new home, we took full advantage of a bigger house with a bigger yard. As we all got older, home to all of us became different. Daren moved on the bored of Maine, living in an apartment and has started his own family, and my younger brother has started college, living on campus at a college down south as well.
As for me, home for the last three years has been in the old farmhouse that David and I bought, fixed up, and moved into together. We have more space than we know what to do with, which has lead to three bedrooms being ‘storage’, a word we use to justify the unorganized rooms piled up with our stuff. Our dog has plenty of room to run around, and David to ride his four-wheeler and snowmobiles. The house may be too big for us right now, but as our family grows, the space will start to shrink as it becomes our children’s first home.
From birth to about four years old, home meant a two bedroom trailer behind my grandparents house in East Dover. Looking at pictures, it’s a miracle the four of us even lived in the trailer comfortably without getting on each others nerves from the lack of space, especially with two kids two years apart. But we made it work, my older brother, Daren, and I shared a room, that had just enough space for our toddler beds, toy box, and some space to play. Sadly, our room was the biggest of the two, my parents bedroom was big enough for a full size bed and one dresser, and just enough room to dress and shut the door. Almost all of the pictures I’ve looked at when we lived in that trailer consisted of us playing outside. Mom said every day it was nice out we were outside, the small space didn’t tire us out enough to go to bed easily she said. At the age of three my parents told us we were going to have another sibling, which meant we needed a lot more space, our tiny trailer wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
Home quickly went from a two bedroom trailer behind my grandparents to a four bedroom ranch on 4 acres in Dexter. This would be my home for the next fifteen years, until I moved out at nineteen. It took time settling into our new home, especially for Daren and I. Mom said that when she got up to tend to our new baby brother at night, she found either Daren in my room sleeping on the floor or me in Daren’s room sleeping on the floor. Our biggest challenge was having our own bedroom, she didn’t think we were scared of sleeping alone in our own room, but we had just been used to having each other. That phase lasted about two months, and once we finally got settled into our new home, we took full advantage of a bigger house with a bigger yard. As we all got older, home to all of us became different. Daren moved on the bored of Maine, living in an apartment and has started his own family, and my younger brother has started college, living on campus at a college down south as well.
As for me, home for the last three years has been in the old farmhouse that David and I bought, fixed up, and moved into together. We have more space than we know what to do with, which has lead to three bedrooms being ‘storage’, a word we use to justify the unorganized rooms piled up with our stuff. Our dog has plenty of room to run around, and David to ride his four-wheeler and snowmobiles. The house may be too big for us right now, but as our family grows, the space will start to shrink as it becomes our children’s first home.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Week 6
I was always told, that my first home was a two bedroom trailer set on a dirt pad out behind my grandparents house in East Dover. It may have been small, but it housed both my parents, my older brother and I. In that little trailer is where my brother and I took out first steps, said our first words, and each took a turn falling down the outside steps, and splitting our top lip open.
I dont remember much of living in the trailer, other than Friday night "Treat Nights". My Dad worked at Dexter Shoe in dexter, and every friday morning before he left for work he'd ask my brother, Daren, and I what we wanted for a treat.
"Reese's peanut butter cups!" Daren always replied.
But I took my time. I'd take into consideration what I had last week and then what I felt like having that day.
"Starburst! No.. No wait..." I said hesitantly, careful not to make my Dad irritated.
"Ummm..... Twizzlers!" I then quickly told him as he picked up his lunch box and headed for the door.
The day dragged on. Daren and I made sure to be on our best behavior for mom, so she wouldnt revoke our "Treat Night". That day was different though, my mom had spent the morning hugging the toilet bowl, throwing up. Daren and I werent sure what do to do, so we did for mom what she always did for us. We made our way back down the hallway to the kitchen, Daren poured the gingerale since I wasnt allowed to pour drinks yet. I headed straight for the lazy susan, pulling out the last package of saltine crackers. Together, we then made our way back to the bathroom, with proud smiles one, and told mom we were going to take care of her, and to follow us to her bedroom. She laid back down in bed, Daren handed her the glass of gingerale, then I gave her the package of crackers. Mom slept most of the day, which to us meant for an easy behavior day for "Treat Night".
Dad got home and found mom in bed, he called out to us from the living room and told us to come here. In order to get our treats that night Dad made us guess the surprise they had for us.
"A new remote control car!" Daren shot off.
"A new barbie?!" I asked.
Then my mom, with the last bit of energy she had left from the day after spending it throwing up, said, "A baby brother."
Daren and I looked at eachother. Decided it was ok to have a baby brother, then asked Dad for our treat!
Our family was quickly growing, and the trailer quickly shrinking. The days of mom tell me of where I first lived were coming to an end, and the days of us four telling Andrew where he grew up on the Shaw Road on the Dover/Dexter town line were soon to begin.
I dont remember much of living in the trailer, other than Friday night "Treat Nights". My Dad worked at Dexter Shoe in dexter, and every friday morning before he left for work he'd ask my brother, Daren, and I what we wanted for a treat.
"Reese's peanut butter cups!" Daren always replied.
But I took my time. I'd take into consideration what I had last week and then what I felt like having that day.
"Starburst! No.. No wait..." I said hesitantly, careful not to make my Dad irritated.
"Ummm..... Twizzlers!" I then quickly told him as he picked up his lunch box and headed for the door.
The day dragged on. Daren and I made sure to be on our best behavior for mom, so she wouldnt revoke our "Treat Night". That day was different though, my mom had spent the morning hugging the toilet bowl, throwing up. Daren and I werent sure what do to do, so we did for mom what she always did for us. We made our way back down the hallway to the kitchen, Daren poured the gingerale since I wasnt allowed to pour drinks yet. I headed straight for the lazy susan, pulling out the last package of saltine crackers. Together, we then made our way back to the bathroom, with proud smiles one, and told mom we were going to take care of her, and to follow us to her bedroom. She laid back down in bed, Daren handed her the glass of gingerale, then I gave her the package of crackers. Mom slept most of the day, which to us meant for an easy behavior day for "Treat Night".
Dad got home and found mom in bed, he called out to us from the living room and told us to come here. In order to get our treats that night Dad made us guess the surprise they had for us.
"A new remote control car!" Daren shot off.
"A new barbie?!" I asked.
Then my mom, with the last bit of energy she had left from the day after spending it throwing up, said, "A baby brother."
Daren and I looked at eachother. Decided it was ok to have a baby brother, then asked Dad for our treat!
Our family was quickly growing, and the trailer quickly shrinking. The days of mom tell me of where I first lived were coming to an end, and the days of us four telling Andrew where he grew up on the Shaw Road on the Dover/Dexter town line were soon to begin.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Week #5
Standing in the church addition, with my four bridesmaids, and maid of honor finally putting on our dresses. Mine taking longer than theirs, since mine was a corset top that needed to be laced up, while their dresses had a zipper. We had spent the morning getting our hair done at the salon, nails done at the mall, and sipping Dunkin Donuts coffee. Each girl took their turn saying, "I can't believe the day is finally here!"
****
February 7th, 2009, our one year anniversary. He surprised me with a trip to Sugarlaof to spend the day ice skating, something I've been wanting to do together for a long time. We both looked like a deer on ice, with our legs slipping out from underneath of us, and landing either on our side or back. After enduring as much falling as we could both handle, we made our way over to the fire put that was hidden by huge snow banks.
"I'll go get us some hot chocolate.", David says.
"Ok, hurry, I'm freezing!" I replied while sitting on the bench.
He comes back, a cup of hot chocolate in each hand. He hands me both, I look at him confused, and then notice he's reaching for something in his pocket. I look away thinking he was just reaching for chapstick. When I turn back around, David is down on one knee, a ring box opened, and his other hand extended to hold mine.
****
At last, I was squeezed into my princess dress. My maid of honor, Denise, helps me put on my shoes, while Mindy, a brides maid hands out the flower bouqets for each of the girls. Each of us take a few minutes to use the mirror to put on make up and re-curl any curl that may have fallen out. Finally, we're in our dresses, hair is curled, make-up on, and flowers in hand, now it was time to walk the back way to the front of the church, being extra careful to not be seen. The girls line up in the doorway, I'm off to the side, hiding so I'm not seen by anyone. I peek out, the church pews are full of our friends and family, now I'm nervous.
Ashley walks down the aisle.
Next, Mindy.
After Mindy, Alyssa.
Now, Abby.
Finally, my maid of honor, Denise.
I feel like I've been holding my breath the entire time. I'm next.
****
The date was set for August 22, 2009, a little over six months away. Mom and I spent days together planning, choosing colors, linens, the menu, and driving around to reception halls until we found the perfect one. After the first few weeks of planning I stopped asking David for his opinion on the girls dresses, the mens tuxedo's, and if he preferred one color or flower over the next, he always said, "I don't care. It's up to you. I want the wedding to be exactly the way you want." Which was sweet the first two times he said it, then it got annoying and made me feel as if he really didn't care. Mom and I decided on red and gold for colors, roses for the bouqets, ham and turkey for the meal, and a beautiful, exposed beam reception hall. The only thing David had to do was get fitted for a tux, pick out my wedding band and show up to the wedding.
****
I take a deep breath, loop arms with my dad, and begin to walk down the aisle. Our guest stand, people smiling at me, some wiping away tears, and pictures are being snapped, leaving a little bright light in my vision every time I blinked. Millions of thoughts race through my head.
"Don't fall"
"I wonder if Dad is crying"
"There's Grammy Wing"
"David looks like he might cry"
The aisle seemed like two miles long with everyone starring at me. We finally reach the alter, David and I lock eyes.
Then the ceremony begins.
"Who gives away this bride to marry this man?"
"Her mother and I" My dad manages to get out before tears began to fall.
****
February 7th, 2009, our one year anniversary. He surprised me with a trip to Sugarlaof to spend the day ice skating, something I've been wanting to do together for a long time. We both looked like a deer on ice, with our legs slipping out from underneath of us, and landing either on our side or back. After enduring as much falling as we could both handle, we made our way over to the fire put that was hidden by huge snow banks.
"I'll go get us some hot chocolate.", David says.
"Ok, hurry, I'm freezing!" I replied while sitting on the bench.
He comes back, a cup of hot chocolate in each hand. He hands me both, I look at him confused, and then notice he's reaching for something in his pocket. I look away thinking he was just reaching for chapstick. When I turn back around, David is down on one knee, a ring box opened, and his other hand extended to hold mine.
****
At last, I was squeezed into my princess dress. My maid of honor, Denise, helps me put on my shoes, while Mindy, a brides maid hands out the flower bouqets for each of the girls. Each of us take a few minutes to use the mirror to put on make up and re-curl any curl that may have fallen out. Finally, we're in our dresses, hair is curled, make-up on, and flowers in hand, now it was time to walk the back way to the front of the church, being extra careful to not be seen. The girls line up in the doorway, I'm off to the side, hiding so I'm not seen by anyone. I peek out, the church pews are full of our friends and family, now I'm nervous.
Ashley walks down the aisle.
Next, Mindy.
After Mindy, Alyssa.
Now, Abby.
Finally, my maid of honor, Denise.
I feel like I've been holding my breath the entire time. I'm next.
****
The date was set for August 22, 2009, a little over six months away. Mom and I spent days together planning, choosing colors, linens, the menu, and driving around to reception halls until we found the perfect one. After the first few weeks of planning I stopped asking David for his opinion on the girls dresses, the mens tuxedo's, and if he preferred one color or flower over the next, he always said, "I don't care. It's up to you. I want the wedding to be exactly the way you want." Which was sweet the first two times he said it, then it got annoying and made me feel as if he really didn't care. Mom and I decided on red and gold for colors, roses for the bouqets, ham and turkey for the meal, and a beautiful, exposed beam reception hall. The only thing David had to do was get fitted for a tux, pick out my wedding band and show up to the wedding.
****
I take a deep breath, loop arms with my dad, and begin to walk down the aisle. Our guest stand, people smiling at me, some wiping away tears, and pictures are being snapped, leaving a little bright light in my vision every time I blinked. Millions of thoughts race through my head.
"Don't fall"
"I wonder if Dad is crying"
"There's Grammy Wing"
"David looks like he might cry"
The aisle seemed like two miles long with everyone starring at me. We finally reach the alter, David and I lock eyes.
Then the ceremony begins.
"Who gives away this bride to marry this man?"
"Her mother and I" My dad manages to get out before tears began to fall.
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