Year's End...

I sat down with every intention of writing a fresh new post. My ADD kicked in, and I just spent the last two hours reading my own blog.

Doesn't get much more self-absorbed than that, does it?!?

It was actually incredible. I love having this virtual time capsule. A place to store my thoughts, whims, fears, insecurities, and adventures, as a wife, mother, and a woman.

Before I sat down, I was thinking that 2009 was a year of disappointment for me, because of the whole nursing school debacle.

However, after reading these old posts of mine, I realized that my rejection letter was just one day. One post. Out of hundreds of happy, funny, amazing moments this year...I was focusing on that one day. That one memory.

If nothing else, this blog reminds me that I'm lucky.

I love my life. Every single bit of it!

Thank you all so much, for the supportive, compassionate, challenging, and uplifting comments all along the way!

And Tucker says...

Post it Note Tuesday...

Head here to make you own sticky note, and here if you wanna play along with SupahMommy!

Here's mines:

One down...two to go...

This Christmas goes down in the Bullock history books as the year that Avery found out about Santa!

I SWEAR that he found out by accident! At least, consciously...it was an accident. Subconsciously? Probably notsomuch!

We bought each of the kids electric Razor scooters from Santa. We put them together the week before Christmas, and charged them, while the kids were staying at Jake's mom's for the weekend.

We wanted to get rid of the evidence, and a brilliant idea was hatched that when we picked up the kids, we would leave the big scooter boxes in Jake's mom's trash...and our kids would be none-the-wiser.

Well, Avery happened to walk by the truck, and happened to peer into the tinted windows, and happened to see the three scooter boxes, and happened to even notice what color each of the scooters was...as he "happened to glance in the truck." I think he did a little more than glance. I think he was snooping, but, that's neither here, nor there!

He raced to find me and said, "Mom...Mom...MOM! Why are there three scooter boxes in the back of the truck? There's two red ones, and a pink one! What are they for?"

Caught off guard, I fumbled, "Uhhh...Ummmmm. Uh. We're throwing those away for Aunt Taylor. Don't tell the other kids, okay."

After I said it...I realized how stupid it was to lie. He would obviously awake on Christmas morn, to two red scooters and a pink one in his living room, and he would hear his parents claim that they were left by Jolly Old Saint Nick. !

When things like this have happened in the past, I have rearranged gifts with my mom, or Jake's mom, and switched up what the kids would receive from Santa...so, that the fat guy's gifts were always a surprise. Not this year. We decided to let this one run it's course. Avery is on the tail end of his Santa believing years, anyway...so, it was time.

I was positively GIDDY!

Just as we expected, in the early morning hours of Christmas Day, while Lily and Jack did happy dances around their pile of Santa loot, Avery stood aside. The reality that his parents were big fat liars was dumped on top of his head, and he stood there, covered in it. Confused. Disappointed. Not knowing how to react, he slathered on his best poker face. He smiled, laughed, and kept this revelation to himself all day long.

Later that night, while I tucked him into bed, alone with him for the first time that day, I said, "Did you have a good Christmas, Buddy?"

He looked defeated, and his disappointment was evident in his speech, when he said, "Yeah, Mom. I guess I did," as he averted his eyes away from mine.

Feeding the elephant in the room a peanut, I said, "So, did you just totally catch us this year, or what?"

Relieved to be able to vent his frustration, he came alive, and said, "UH...YEAH! I DID!"

Rhetorically, he asked, "You guys are Santa??" He said it again. This time, it was a statement. It was accusatory, "YOU GUYS ARE SANTA!!!"

Finally speaking nothing but the truth, I said, "Yup! We sure are! It's just something fun that moms and dads do for their kids on Christmas. It's fun to pretend, and it's fun to see how magical you kids think it is."

He was silent for a minute, then began firing the questions at me, in rapid succession.

"So, elves are real, but Santa's not?"

Laughing, I answered, "Nope. Elves aren't real either."

Another revelation, "Oooooooh...so, you guys just go out and buy the toys?"

"Yes, son. That's exactly what we do."

"And all those letters to Santa? Where do they go?"

I replied, "Well, we let you put them in the mailbox, and after you kids were in bed, we would get the letter out of the mailbox. I stash them in a keepsake box to save in your baby books. I have all the letters you've written through the years."

"And what about all the things on the news about Santa? And that Santa network on our satellite? What is that about?"

Again, with the truth, I said, "Yeah...us grownups just kinda work together on keeping the magic of Christmas alive for our kids. It's kind of a big ole conspiracy --"

He interrupted me, fingering big, dramatic air quotes, and said, "Oh...Oh...And "SANTA" eats those cookies we leave out for him, huh?! YOU GUYS EAT THE COOKIES, DON'T YOU?! OH.MY.GAAAWD! THIS IS CRAZY! All this time, you had me believing in Santa. All this time, you guys sneak around at night, pretending to be Santa?!"

I could see yet another revelation in his eyes, and he said, "OH MY GAAAAAWD! The other day, when I lost a tooth? Don't tell me you're the tooth fairy, too! Mom, are you the Tooth Fairy?"

"Yes. Guilty as charged. Dad and I are the Tooth Fairy, too!"

He was shocked, "So, when I put the tooth under my pillow, y'all come creeping in here, take it while I'm sleeping, and leave some money under there?!?"

I nodded.

He yelled, "That's weird!! You shouldn't sneak around in my room while I'm sleeping! That's weird!!" Then, he gasped, "WHAT ABOUT THE EASTER BUNNY?"

Not able to restrain myself from effing with him a bit, I said, "Naw...the Easter Bunny's real!"

"Oh...whew! Good! I thought...." He stopped himself short, and said, "You're just messing with me! That's mean! My whole life is a lie, and you're teasing me! Mom, that's mean!"

He began to laugh. So did I.

I explained, "We don't do it to be mean, kid. It's just something fun we do. You'll likely do it with your kids, too. I'm sorry you had to find out that way, but, I'm glad you know. Now you know that we have to work to pay for those things you guys get. They don't just magically appear! Just do me a favor...please don't tell your brother and sister. Let them find out for themselves, too, okay?"

He responded, "Mom...I would never tell Lily and Jack that Santa's not real. It would crush them if they found out, Mom. This morning, when they were so excited about what Santa brought, and I knew the truth...I cried. We can't tell them, ever, Mom! EVER!"

With that, I watched my boy grow up a bit. Actually, he grew up a lot. And, that crushed me a little!

Merry Christmas, Dammit...

Have a good one, or the baby gets it!

Between a rock and a hard place...

He would've been TWELVE today!!

TUH-WELVE!

A sixth grader...approaching Junior High.

A pre-teen.

It's hard to believe.

On this day, I always think about what life would've been like if my boy were still here. There is that big part of me that longs to have him with me, to make me whole again.

Each time these thoughts run through my head, I'm forced to realize that, if he were still here...there are three little people in the other room, who wouldn't be here. Our lives would've been consumed with taking care of Joey's medical needs, and there likely wouldn't have been time for Avery, Lily, or Jack.

It leaves me wishing that my Joey were still here...but, at the same time, grateful for the amazing life I have, because he's not.

THAT'S some fucked up shit!

Mary Jane...

A week ago, the school sent home a consent form for us to sign, allowing Avery to participate in an anonymous drug and alchol survey.

At first, I thought they were prying for information about us.

**Guilty conscience, much??**

I was all paranoid thinking that they were going to ask questions like, "Is there NEVER / SOMETIMES / or, YOUR MOM WOULDN'T BE CAUGHT DEAD WITHOUT a box of wine in your fridge, at home?"

Or..."Does your dad kick back A COUPLE / A SIX PACK / or, / THERE ARE SO MANY EMPTYS ON THE COUNTER ON SATURDAY MORNINGS, THAT THERE IS NO COUNTER SPACE TO MAKE YOUR OWN CEREAL WHILE DAD SLEEPS IT OFF?"

I thought it would be shit like that...I was nervous.

After reading the letter a few times, we realized that its' purpose was to gather statistics on what, if any, drugs kids are exposed to, and at what ages.

**WHEW!**

We consented.

Avery came home last night, and said, "Hey...Mom and Dad. We took that questionaire about drugs and alcohol today."

In unison, we said, "You did? What kind of questions did it ask," as we glanced at one another...bracing ourselves.

He asked, "Wait, first, I have a question."

"Sure. What?"

He struggled, "What is MAWR-I-JOO-ONNA?"

**So, we're here. We're standing on the brink of that age old hypothetical question..."When your kids ask you about drugs, are you gonna tell them if you tried them?" And, for the record, yeah...I inhaled. There. I said it. But, Jake did it, too!! Yesterday, we were reading about the 'great green room...and the telephone...and the red balloon,' and today, he's asking me about 'MAWR-I-JOO-ONNA!!' Wow!!**

I said, "It's a drug."

Jake said, "You smoke it."

I looked at Jake, and my eyes said, "Dude?!?"

Aloud, I said, "Well, some people smoke it."

Jake said, "To get high."

This time, my eyes yelled, "DUDE?!?"

Avery, taking advantage of the pause, said, "What does 'high' mean?"

My eyes, to Jake, "ABORT...ABORT...ABORT...he's gonna ask us if we've ever gotten high!!"

To Avery, I said, "High means stupid. Some people think it's fun to be stupid. But, stupid's stupid. Getting high is stupid."

Avery said, "Well, I just put that I'd never heard of it...because I hadn't."

Again, in unison, Jake and I said, "GOOD!"

**Because, by god, if kids are talking about MAWR-I-JOO-ONNA in elementary school...society's screwed!**

We weren't finished.

Next, he asked, "It also asked me if I've ever used anything at home to get high. What does that mean?"

Jake replied, "Some people will sniff glue, or paint, or aerosol cans, things like that, to get high."

I finished Jake's thought with, "So, just because it's something that is around the house, doesn't make it okay to get high with it. And 'high' isn't cool."

Avery reminded me, "Yeah, and high is stupid."

And with that, the inquisition was over.

**thank god!!**

So, I think the dry run went well, and maybe we'll be better prepared for our next little convo. For, now, it is quite clear that when our kids ask if we've ever gotten high...WE'RE GONNA LIE LIKE A MUTHA!!

Milestones...

In the beginning of our childrens' lives, there are milestones galore. Smiling, cooing, sitting, walking, talking, etc....

For those first few years, they come in rapid succession. It always seemed like there was a new one to celebrate each week.

Some of those milestones were warm and welcomed. Like, that first true smile. The simple turning up of the corners of their little mouths, meant that there was indeed a little person in that tiny little bundle. An individual.

Some were bittersweet. Like, nursing them for the last time. I remember the last time I nursed each of my children. I remember looking into their faces, and holding their hand, while they were cradled close to me. They were content, and so was I. I remember telling myself to memorize every bit of that moment. And I did.

As my children have grown, the milestones are fewer and farther between. Riding a bike. Losing that first tooth. Starting school. There are months between these milestones...even years. These milestones mark large strides toward independence. And while I sometimes think that it would be nice if my children would stay this age forever...I look forward to their autonomy. After all, it is the ultimate goal of parenthood.

The past week, a major milestone was reached in our house. One that might go unnoticed by some, but, one I choose to celebrate. A fairly major, pivotal milestone, if you ask me.

For the first time in the history of my childrens' lives, and mine as a mother, I didn't have to clean vomit out of comforters, sheets, carpet, clothes, body parts, bathroom floors, or their hair, as a stomach virus made its' rounds among them.

Avery, the over-achiever that he is, even puked in a bucket, dumped it in the toilet, washed the bucket, washed his hands...THEN woke me up and told me he puked!

Damn, they make me proud!

Again...

I climbed back up on top of an old soap box of mine again...I couldn't help it.

I bought myself an early Christmas present the other day. I bought the New Super Mario Brothers for Wii. It's like the OLD SCHOOL Super Mario Brothers that we grew up on. I guess I should only speak for my own age...It's the OLD SCHOOL Super Mario Brothers that I grew up on!

I've been eyeballing the game since it's release.

The other night, Jack started puking, and ruined our plans for hanging out with friends. Desperate for entertainment, I broke down and bought the game and a box of wine, for a fun filled night with two of the coolest plumbers I know.

I love the game.

It contains the same old busting of bricks, collecting of coins, shooting of fireballs, jumping of the flag pole, and slaying of the dragon, that I remember fondly from the original.

However, it also showcases the endless lives, countless continues, and superfluous save flags found throughout the levels, TO WHICH, this coddled generation of prepubescent pantywaists, have grown so accustomed!!

Avery watched me struggle with a particularly hard world, then asked for a turn to conquer it.

I begrudgingly happily shared my new toy.

Within minutes of the controller entering his hands, the kid found some "Luigi guide" option that I didn't know existed. He was able to watch a computerized Luigi reveal the secrets of the level, and effortlessly make it to the end. Once the "guide" completed the level, it gave Avery the option of trying it himself...or, or...OR...you guessed it...MOVING ON TO THE NEXT LEVEL!!!

Avery looked up at me, and said, "OH SA-WEET! LOOK, MOM! I just beat the level!"

I flipped my shit.

Part of me was still frustrated from my struggle with the level, and having the computerized Luigi throw it all up in my face how simple it acutally was...but, mostly, I was pissed at this lazy, sorry excuse for a generation of kids we're raising!!

I snatched the controller out of his hand, and started the ranting and raving...

"NO WAY! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HAD TO DO, WHEN I WAS A KID, AND A LEVEL WAS HARD? I HAD TO FIGURE IT OUT FOR MYSELF. NO "GUIDE" TO SHOW ME THE WAY. NO INTERNET FOR CHEAT CODES. UH-UH. JUST BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS. AND ONLY THREE LIVES!! DID YA HEAR THAT? THREE. NOT FIVE. NO ENDLESS CONTINUES. NO SAVES. UH-UH. THREE LIVES. ANY LIVES OVER THAT, HAD TO BE EARNED!! IF YOU WERE ON LEVEL 8-4, AND ABOUT TO BEAT THE DRAGON, AND BEAT THE GAME...AND YOU DIED...YOU WENT ALL.THE.WAY.BACK.TO.THE.BEGINNING!! AND YOU STARTED THE FRICK OVER!! WHY EVEN PLAY THE GAME? WHY NOT JUST LET LUIGI PLAY IT FOR YOU, HUH? WHEN I WAS A KID..."

Jake interrupted me. Mocking, "Easy, Grandma, you're scaring the kids."

All the kids laughed and taunted me, with their father.

So, now...NOW? None of them are allowed to play my video game!

Proof...

The other day, I told you about a conversation I'd had with Jack about Santa. He asked me if the big guy was real...I wasn't going to lie, and gave him the opportunity to figure out for himself who likely puts the presents under the tree.

He came up with midgets.

The only thing that made sense in is six year old brain, was that midgets left the presents there for him. A fat man in fur wouldn't fit...and it was ridiculous, to him, to think that Mom and Dad were responsible.

Thank goodness he's so pretty!

Well, lo and behold, tonight at the second grade Christmas program at the school...where, by the way, his sister delivered the loudest line of the night and absolutely NAILED her teddy bear performance to the effing wall...

One of the other little second graders was dressed as Santa...


Having totally forgotten about our previous conversation...seeing a Santa of short stature didn't really ring a bell, with me.

Oh, but, it sure did with Jack.

When the vertically challenged Saint Nicholas took the stage to deliver his lines, Jack whipped his head around to me, and boasted, "Do you see that? A midget Santa! I TOLD YOU!!"

Master of my domain...

Yes...I am the master of my domain!

I am also the master of this domain...

www.nikkibullockphotography.com

Yay, me!

While researching domain names, I ran across some information that was a bit disheartening.

I'm not the only Nikki Bullock in the world! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!

All that bullshit my parents spewed about me being special...telling me that there was no one else like me in this whole wide world...BULLSHIT!

A quick Google search, and I found out that, not only is there already a Nikki B Photography somewhere in the US, by someone named Nikki B-something, or other...there is another "Nikki Bullock" in the world. Separate and apart from me, and Nikki B-something, or other!!

And...AND...

This "Nikki Bullock" hoochie, is also a photographer!!

AND...AND...

She's in Australia!

Do you know what that means?

Her accent is way hotter than mine (pronounced 'm-aah-n'...like a big ole redneck)!!

Effing bitch!

Ants marching...

My cousin has a brain tumor.

It's wrapped around his auditory nerve, and he lost his hearing in his left ear.

He's an evangelist.

He's a singer.

It sucks.

He doesn't deserve that.

They don't think it's cancer, and he's having surgery in a week.

My brother's 12 year old daughter is autistic.

His family just visited us for the holidays for the first time in...I don't even remember how long...because her behavior was too bad for them to travel with her.

He and his wife have been pushed to every emotional, psychological, and physical ledge, that a person could imagine. And some that you couldn't even fathom.

It's not fair.

He doesn't deserve that.

When Joey died, I liked to tell myself that there was some lesson to be learned. That it happened for a reason. I used to find comfort in that. Comforted by the idea of a greater good...a higher purpose...a destiny.

However, standing at this point in my life...having had a few more life experiences...I don't think that's true anymore.

I hear people say all the time..."It's God's will." Or, "God has a plan."

Bullshit...

Applying that theory to my cousin, and my brother's life...and even my own...that would make God cruel. To cause, or allow the suffering of one person, to teach a lesson to another? WTF?

The more I think about God...the more I tend to agree that he is just a kid with an ant farm.

I actually find this thought much more comforting.