12 year olds can break your heart

  So as we wrap up out little blogging sesh, i must say I enjoyed this unit very much. I liked hearing about everyone's stories of there past or present, and learned a lot about everyone is the class. But now I actually have to write about something so for the my last blog I'm going to write about my day home yesterday.  

    So the past two mornings I have woken  up with this massive bloody nose along with the biggest headache and my teeth hurt so bad. Tuesday morning I stuck though it and went to school,  thinking it was just the common cold. Well yesterday when I woke up it was a little worse and I felt like complete shit. 

     When i went to the doctors there just said I had a pretty bad sinus infection, they also gave me a tip to maybe start suing a humidifier in my room because having the sinus infection along with really dry air wasn't helping out so much.  Anyway, when I got home i took some medicine and fell asleep for 3 hours, just a straight up dead sleep. around 3:00 my cousins comes through the door, Skylar, Avery's older brother just yelling as loud as he can that he is staying the night tonight because his mother doesn't want to come pick him up. Knowing that my grandmothers best friend was staying the night, I knew right away that the `12 year old boy would have to sleep in my room tonight, and with working the closing shift tonight, I wanted a lot of sleep which I wasn't going to get. 
     9:00pm came around and nannie told us to get our stuff together and get our butts to bed, being the adolescent boy he is, he argued to stay up longer, blah blah blah. I was laying in bad as he thumped his way up the stairs, he comes through the doors, lays softly on the bed and says "Nat-Nat, do you ever just think about him?" Knowing just who he was talking about, I said "There's not a day I don't." We went on about a 20 minute conversation about my grandfather and all the memories we had together with him, shockingly he nor i cried. Then to go on further, just breaking my heart even more, basically saying what I said in my last blog, he said "Oh and I have something else nat, when you go off to college this year, it's gonna suck, your my favorite cousin, please don't tell anyone that, but you are. I just don't want you to think that because you are too old we can't have spend over nights at nannies." and I said "No matter how far away I will be, or how old I am, I will never be to told to spend time with you." He turns over and goes to bed. I never realized how much of an impact I had in my cousins life until now, and until now, I've never hated the thought of college so much.    

Growing up sucks

As I sit and think about going off to college,  I start to think about how different my life will be.  There's going to be some things I will have to miss,  like cookie day tradition, 3rd Saturday of every month all my cousins stay the night with my grandmother, but most of all,  I'm going to miss Blue Hill Fair weekend.  This happens once a year every labor day weekend,  which every time it comes I don't know if it hate it because school starts the next day,  or if I absolutely love it because it's the one time a year that no matter what family differences went on over the past year,  we get together and enjoy selling baked potatoes.  

       For those of you who don't know,  my family and I started the "Too Hot Potatoes" booth at the Blue hill fair over 13 years ago...  I think..  And the past 3 years the grandparents have been running it.  Last year was a big eye opener for all of us because it was the first year without our main attraction that brings in everyone for the goods.  My grandfather, the talker he was,  and due to him knowing everyone,  he brought in all of our money.  It was a bittersweet weekend for us,  but we all came together and got through it.  

     Honestly,  I know it's a ways away,  but all I can think about is missing that weekend this year,  it will be my first year not being there since I can remember. It breaks my heart to think I won't be seeing my cousins, or my aunts,  though I complain about them all the time,  they are my life.  The fact that I'm getting older,  and flying out of the next scares me. But for now on,  I have to soak up every minute I have with them and enjoy it.  As I said before,  no one tells you it's the little thing you want to reminisce in, you don't fine that out until it's to late.  

        

Significant meaning

So I'm going off a limb here from previous stories I have blogged about. Please do not mind a couple swear words here and there.  And  at the end,  don't ask who the person is because I've already dealt with them,  but I just wanted to clear something up.
      Yesterday,  I was writing on the sign out board to leave for my internship.  When next thing I know,  there were two people talking about the thing I had on my left ring finger.  For those of you who don't know,  I have a tattoo that is the military ribbon. It's just like the cancer ribbon but the color that stands for military is yellow. And just so people will stop telling me how bad of an idea it was to get this tattoo on my ring finger,  I will tell you why I did it.
    As many of you may know by now,  and if you don't,  I don't know how, my father was injured over in afiganistan,  causes by driving over a road side bomb.  The only half that blew up was of course my dad's half.  That one bomb has impacted my life greatly because my dad never got to see me grow up from there on out.  Now don't think I'm not lucky I didn't get to spend time with him for the seven years I got to because I am.  Those seven years are 7 blessings I couldn't cherish more.  But anyway back to my reason. Most of the girls I know when they get older and get married,  their dad's will be able to give them away.  Me,  not so much,  and it just so happens my back up plan won't work either because my grandfather died.  I've been thinking about getting this tattoo for a long time now.  Putting this tattoos on this finger signifies to me that no matter who I get married to,  or how in love with them I am,  behind them,  or in this case underneath the ring shows my dad will always be my first love and he will forever have my heart now matter what.
     So there ya go,  people may not agree with what I did,  but in the end it doesn't matter,  and whoever I get married to and fall completely in love with will hear my story,  and not even blink an eye to why I did it.  For the people that support me,  or the decison I made,  thank you! I know it's just a tattoo,  but it's a tattoo that means more than gold to me!

Does karma really happen to four year olds? Here's how I came to the conclusion it does.... 

           Sunday morning,  yes as in yesterday,  here I am laying in bed,  now mind you I just worked the night before,  got home late, and just as I suspected because they usually go to church on Sunday,  my cousins were staying the night.  I knew right away I would be waking up early the next morning...  And I did....  At 6:30am.... Not to impressed,  but when your alarm clock is a sweet four year old boy asking for "nat nat snuggle time"  how could you hit the snooze button on that? Before I get to deep on this story,  you should know my baby cousin Avery has my heart right now,  I've never been in love with a person so much.  Besides my sister's,  I would die for this kid.  He and I have a connection like no other that sometimes he will call me his sister.   

     Anyway,  we were just getting up for breakfast,  he and I had eggs with ketchup. And he decided not to go to church.   I told him and Skylar,  his brother,  to sit down and watch TV while I took a shower.  Well,  5 minutes later I hear a little boy yelling at his brother,  balling his eyes out.  As I step out of the shower,  reaching for my towel,  Avery comes in yelling for a "bambaid" (band aid)  of course I asked why scrambling to get something around my body,  he lifts his arm up and from the top of his arm pit to the bottom was, I kid you not,  a 6 inch long 3 inch deep cut from playing car crash with his brother on a scooter. There were two prongs on the scooter covered in blood.  Holding back my panic,  I get dressed,  call my nanny and as she pulls in I'm waiting in the driveway for her to rush us to the hospital.  On the way there he's breaking my heart,  crying his eyes out scared because he knows he will have to get stitches.  Long story short,  a few hours later we finally have him in the surgery room,  not put to sleep but enough juice to knock his arm out, the doctor begins stitching I have all I can do to not break out in tears. In that moment from start to finish I finally felt what it's like to I wouldn't say be a mom,  but be that person who can't stand seeing their kid even get a shot.  I would have loved to take the fall over him. I kept thinking to myself over and over again a.  How shitty luck my family has and b.  How Avery really shouldn't have skipped going to church this morning because apparently four year olds get bad karma.  

        But in the end,  Avery took it like a champ,  he's pretty pissed that this weekend is his birthday party is this weekend and he won't be able to have as much fun.  The first thing he said was,  let's go back to nannies and get on the scooter.  What can I say,  boys will be boys,  and four year old get karma for not going to church.  

Does karma really happen to four year olds? Here's how I came to the conclusion it does.... 

           Sunday morning,  yes as in yesterday,  here I am laying in bed,  now mind you I just worked the night before,  got home late, and just as I suspected,  my cousins were staying the night.  I knew right away I would be waking up early the next morning...  And I did....  At 6:30am.... Not to impressed,  but when your alarm clock is a sweet four year old boy asking for "nat nat snuggle time"  how could you hit the snooze button on that? Before I get to deep on this story,  you should know my baby cousin Avery has my heart right now,  I've never been in love with a person so much.  Besides my sister's,  I would die for this kid.  He and I have a connection like no other that sometimes he will call me his sister.   

     Anyway,  we were just getting up for breakfast,  he and I had eggs with ketchup.  I told him and Skylar,  his brother,  to sit down and watch TV while I took a shower.  Well,  5 minutes later I hear a little boy yelling at his brother,  balling his eyes out.  As I step out of the shower,  reaching for my towel,  Avery comes in yelling for a "bambaid" (band aid)  of course I asked why scrambling to get something around my body,  he lifts his arm up and from the top of his arm pit to the bottom was, I kid you not,  a 6 inch long 3 inch deep cut from playing car crash with his brother on a scooter. There were two prongs on the scooter covered in blood.  Holding back my panic,  I get dressed,  call my nanny and as she pulls in I'm waiting in the driveway for her to rush us to the hospital.  On the way there he's breaking my heart,  crying his eyes out scared because he knows he will have to get stitches.  Long story short,  a few hours later we finally have him in the surgery room,  not put to sleep but enough juice to knock his arm out, the doctor begins stitching I have all I can do to not break out in tears. In that moment from start to finish I finally felt what it's like to I wouldn't say be a mom,  but be that person who can't stand seeing their kid even get a shot.  I would have loved to take the fall over him. I kept thinking to myself over and over again a.  How shitty luck my family has and b.  How Avery really shouldn't have skipped going to church this morning because apparently four year olds get bad karma.  

        But in the end,  Avery took it like a champ,  he's pretty pissed that this weekend is his birthday party is this weekend and he won't be able to have as much fun.  The first thing he said was,  let's go back to nannies and get on the scooter.  What can I say,  boys will be boys,  and four year old get karma for not going to church.  

                As I went through files upon files in my brain of all the tiny moments that I've ever that weren't sappy boyfriend stories, or life changing moments that I've already told, but just ones that some time ago I may have taken for granted, or that now, at the age of 18, I would kill to just be in just one more time. Now a days, I just find most of my moments are full of stress, sadness, and anger, that I don't notice when I'm not thinking about the things that are going wrong in my life. So the one I'm about to write about isn't so recent, but one that I most recently keep thinking about all the time. No one tells you when your younger to seriously soak up the little moments, one day they will be worth more than gold. 

               Every Sunday is dump day in Penobscot, and after the snow would finally melt away, and spring was finally spring, I would spend Friday night through Sunday nights with my grandparents. Being right near the water, I love breathing the air while I'm outside at their house, it was just something about that air that made you want to be outside all the time, even just sitting on the porch drinking iced tea was great. Anyway, Nanny would always have these "Make my grandchildren my slave day." Not really, but it always seemed like we did her dirty work for her, looking back at it now, I would clean her yard all day if it meant being with my entire family.  Bumpy had this little Chevy truck, with only 3 seats, it was one of those ones with two seats in the front, and the one tiny one that you had to sit sideways in 'cause it was on the door, so when it was time to go, only two of the seven grandchildren would be able to go, I of course, was always one of them. Most of the time it was only one that went. On our way, the ride was always silent, I always wondered what he was thinking about, I also laughed because he was never good at hiding the fact he dipped, black specks were always stuck somewhere in his beard.  After the travel to town, we hop over to the little store, and he would get a whoopie pie and ginger ale, I would get ice cream, bringing nothing back for the others. Selfish I know, but to me it was special. The whole, trip. With all five words probably spoken. It's just another one of those pointless moments that you look back at now and realize it means more to you than you ever would. The only people that will get what this story means are the ones to have lost someone who's life will forever mean more than your own. Or if you're a person that just loves every moment no matter what. 

 

I realized today,  just after English class, that there were many roots I could go with my blogging.  I could write down many sappy stories of why life actually begins at 18, or just future things I would change in my life,  but while I was standing at my locker talking to Tim,  I hear two men in the back ground saying the word "twinning"  my first thought was that maybe my hearing was off today,  or they could have been talking about something they read. Due to my nosy interest I turn around to two Mr. Clout and Mr. Jones.  As I turn around they are hooting and hollering about the fact they had just about the same color shirt on. I think that since they are up there in age, their eye’s on that strong because they actually had two different colored shirts on. Clouts was red, and Jones had a dark maroon shirt on. I asked them if they planned it knowing they probably didn’t, I just wanted to help them feel better about themselves. While acting like I was totally intrigued by what was going on, they asked me to hurry and take a quick selfie of them. I ended up taking like five selfies and they were loving it the entire time.  As they walked off, Clout came up to me, and said “Natalie, if that selfie goes anywhere, I will kill you.” Little did he know, he set himself up for that one.

            So this led me to the idea of things I want to write about. Moments. Pointless moments of time when nothing else mattered and you weren’t worrying about anything else, but somehow that moment put a spark in you.