Monthly Archives: August 2013

15 Things the Girls Who Like My Son Need to Know


First, let me make this very clear to you before I go any further.  I don’t like you.

Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I have a few more things I need you to know.

1. You are only 13.  That means you need to act like you’re only 13.

2. You don’t need to wear shorts that show off your hoo-hah.  That should be a well-kept secret until you’re at least in college and preferably married.

3. You are a lady.  Watch your mouth, and sound like one, too.  Cursing every other word doesn’t make you sound cool.  It makes you sound trashy.

4. Your duckface is ugly.  Stop posting it all over Facebook.

5. You do not need to be using your phone in the middle of the night.  Only whores need to do that, and hopefully you are not a whore yet.

6. Do not text my son anything relating to what you’d like to do to him.  Because I promise you – your daddy will not like hearing about it.

7. You need to stop posting pictures in those shirts where your boobies are nearly popping out.  Please, for the sake of all things good and holy, save something for prom night.

8. If you ask my son to go to the movies with you, you better plan on answering a 50-question test when you get home, regarding every single aspect of the movie.  Including the last 30 seconds.

9. I know my son’s passwords… to everything.  Phone, Facebook, Instagram, e-mail, Twitter, Tumblr, Reddit, Linked in, Pinterest, everything.  Just keep that in mind.

10. I know how to aim and shoot a weapon.  Pretty well, in fact.  Daddies aren’t the only ones with shotguns.  Again, just a little something to keep in mind.

11. I will meet your parents before you ever step foot out of your house with my son.  And I will have their phone number programmed in my phone.

12. Remember, I will share all pictures you send to my son on my public Facebook page if I need to.

13. Smart girls are more attractive than stupid hussies.  Don’t play dumb.  It’s not cute.

14. If you ever come over to “study” with my son, you’d better believe that all you will be doing is studying.  And I will damn sure quiz you, so be prepared.

15. Getting pregnant will never be a retirement plan, so don’t even think about it.  It will never be your ticket out of your home town.  If you want him to stay with you forever, then just be a damn good girlfriend.  When you’re both 20.  Not 13.

Every trifling heifer who is constantly texting, calling, and messaging my 13-year-old son needs to read and understand this list first.  And then, after each one of them is sure she understands it, she needs to come meet me – to my face – and introduce herself like a lady with proper manners and grammar.  I just want to make sure they all know up front what to expect…

And now – just for gits and shiggles – these are some of the actual text messages I’ve received from said 13-year-old son.  Enjoy!


An Open Letter to All You Douchebags


Dear Douchebags,

Yes, I had my first kid at the age of 19.  And yes, I had my second kid at 21.  Yes, I was only in college at the time.  So what??

You told me I was too young to have kids, that I knew nothing about how to raise children.  You also told me that I would never go anywhere in life, wouldn’t finish college, and would never be able to work at a decent job and take care of two children.  You said I would never go anywhere in life.

You called me “white trash” since I wasn’t married when I had my first kid and told me I would end up as a single mom because my “baby’s daddy” would leave me – if I even knew who he was.  When I had my second baby, you asked me if he had the same dad as the first.

You said I’d end up living with my parents forever and would never be able to afford a place of my own.  You assumed that I was on welfare and food stamps and that I had to get my babies vaccinated at the local, trashy health clinic.  You asked if I was finally on good birth control and talked about how surprised I must have been when I found out that I was pregnant so young.

You said my future would be ruined if I didn’t get an abortion – that there was no way I could give my babies good, successful lives.  You said I would fail school or have to quit because I would never be able to study, maintain good grades, or be able to pay for daycare with two young children on my hands.

You told me how terrible my kids would have it growing up since they were biracial.  You said it was my fault that people would call them names and bully them because of their race.  You called me an “n*****-lover” and said it wasn’t fair to my kids that they didn’t have two parents who were the same race.

You know what?  I finally have something to say about all those things you told me.  THEY WERE LIES. 

I was a damn good mom to my babies, and I figured it out pretty quickly.  I knew how to change diapers and rock my babies to sleep and get them bathed and dressed.

I went to school full-time and worked full-time and still got to wake my boys up in the morning, get them off to daycare, and rock them to sleep at night.

I graduated with honors and even started grad school.  I’ve worked hard at jobs that continuously got better.  I make a decent living now.  I was able to pay for a place to live, a car, my bills, and childcare.

I moved out of my parents’ house the day after high school graduation, before I even had kids, and haven’t lived with them since.  I married my sons’ father, and we stayed married for nearly ten years.  My kids both had the same dad.

My kids had a real doctor at a real pediatrician’s office, and I paid for their medical bills with real insurance.  I also paid for our groceries and utilities with real money.

Abortion was never an issue or option for us.  Our kids weren’t mistakes.  Our lives weren’t ruined.  Believe it or not, some people like having kids early on in life.  One day, I’ll be able to enjoy playing with my grandchildren.  Hopefully, I’ll make it to see the day my sons graduate from college, get married, and have little blessings of their own.

You may call me all sorts of names, but I’m proud to not be a closed-minded, racist idiot like you.  I think my babies are beautiful, and I wouldn’t change a thing about them.  It’s quite ironic to me that you spend countless hours and dollars to make your skin look exactly the same as theirs.  And your hair?  Don’t get me started.  You could only wish to have curls like theirs.

I didn’t fail or have to quit school, and my kids sure as hell haven’t suffered for that.  In fact, they’ve turned out to be quite remarkable, intelligent young men.  They’re amazingly talented and extremely smart.  They get good grades, excel in their grade levels, and can play nearly any sport they attempt.

They have dreams of which college they’ll attend and which sports they’ll receive scholarships in, and they have high standards for themselves.  Both have admirable career goals and will, no doubt, succeed in everything they put their minds to.  They both love God and are growing up to be Godly, respectful men, who will love their own wives and children one day.

So, no, I don’t have any regrets, and I wouldn’t change a thing.  Having my sons was the best decision I’ve ever made, regardless of my age.  Now stop worrying about me, take a nice long look at yourself, and move on.

All my love,

Alicia

My College Graduation - December 13, 2003

My College Graduation – December 13, 2003


Daily Prompt: Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall


Today’s Daily Prompt:

Think of your blog as a mirror: what does it reveal? Consider your blog name, theme choice, design, bio, posts… what does every element tell you about yourself?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us REFLECTIONS.

Photo by Leslie Dobbe Photography

Photo by Leslie Dobbe Photography

I glance in the mirror,

And you look back at me.

I study the look on your face,

And I can tell you don’t like what you see.

 

A forehead that’s too big…

And lips that are too small…

A far from perfect complexion…

You don’t like what you see at all.

 

You try so hard to be perfect,

But you keep letting yourself down.

You’re not happy with yourself;

You know, you’d be prettier without that frown.

 

Stop judging and comparing yourself;

Stop caring what others think.

Enjoy the blessings you have in front of you;

They’ll be gone before you blink.

 

You’re pretty on the outside

And yes, even more beautiful within;

You try so hard to make people laugh,

But what’s really beneath your grin?

 

You tell your funny kid stories,

And hope everyone will like you.

But you’re missing something so important:

Alicia, you need to love you, too.


I’m a Lefty, So That Makes Me Smarter Than You


Today is International Left-Handers Day!  And I’m a lefty, so I’m going to celebrate with a few beers tonight.  In honor of the special occasion (and since we lefties are often left out and forgotten in most design plans and products), I leave you with these awesome statistics and, as always, great pictures!

– 15 percent of people are left-handed.

– Males are twice as likely to be left-handed than females.

– Left-handers are more likely to be geniuses. (That explains a lot.) 

– Left-handers are 20 percent more likely to be rich. (Okay, so I don’t fall into that category…)

– Lefties are more likely to become alcoholics. (Did I say beer?  What I had meant to say was…)

– Two righties only have a 2 percent chance of having a lefty baby. (Both my parents are righties.)

– Left-handers are naturally better at video games because they can better handle large amounts of stimuli.

– Lefties reach puberty 4 to 5 months after righties. (So that’s why I had no boobies growing up…)

– The world is made for right-handers – look at spiral notebooks, binders, school desks, scissors, computer mouses, etc.

This is so accurate! Source: LolRiot!

This is so accurate!
Source: LolRiot!

This is not quite so accurate... Source: funnyjunk

This is not quite so accurate…
Source: funnyjunk

Yep. Source: Zazzle

Yep.
Source: Zazzle

True... Source: Anything Left Handed

True…
Source: Anything Left Handed

Where were THESE when I was in school?! Source: http://dict.space.4goo.net

Where were THESE when I was in school?!
Source: http://dict.space.4goo.net

I need one of these for Christmas... Source: LOLs Heaven

I need one of these for Christmas…
Source: LOLs Heaven

Ooh, I need to try one of these! Source: http://tessarickart.wordpress.com

Ooh, I need to try one of these!
Source: http://tessarickart.wordpress.com

Yeah, definitely a perk. Source: Tumblr

Yeah, definitely a perk.
Source: Tumblr

To all of my fellow lefties, HAPPY INTERNATIONAL LEFT-HANDERS DAY!!!


WARNING!!!! If you take photos with your cell phone


If you have children, you MUST check this out. Thank you to Keeping My Eye on the Sparrow Photography for sharing.


Weekly Photo Challenge: One Shot, Two Ways


This Week’s Photo Challenge:

One Shot, Two Ways.  This week, photographer Jeff Sinon talked about his process of finding the best shot.  Before taking a picture, he studies his scene — looking at a shot horizontally (as a landscape) and vertically (as a portrait).  With this honed, critical eye, he decides what orientation works best for his photograph.

For this challenge, capture two images — a horizontal and a vertical version — of the same scene or subject.  There are no concrete “rules” here, but a) it should be evident that both shots are of the same place/location or person/thing, and b) your photographs should ideally have been taken during the same shoot — where’s the challenge if you’re just plucking out pictures of a particular location or person from your archives?

These photos are of the Morris Island lighthouse, which stands about 300 yards off of Folly Beach in South Carolina.


Operation Lose the ‘Fro


As I’ve mentioned before, Ronald (my 11-year-old) is fiercely independent and doesn’t care a bit about what others think of him.

As such, he has been growing his hair for over a year-and-a-half, in what I consider an attempt to have a record-breaking afro – and is pretty darn close, if you ask me…

Exhibit A:

Pretty big, right?  [That’s what she said!]

At any given time, you may find food in there.  Or sticks.  Or maybe even a pencil.

It’s really that big.

Okay, so he took this to heart... Source: caimay

Okay, so he took this to heart…
Source: caimay

Anyway, as the new school year approaches and football season begins, I (being the mean mom that I am) told him that he must get his hair cut before school starts.  I refuse to buy a new football helmet just so it fits over his ‘fro, when his helmet from last year fits perfectly fine over his non-‘fro head.

After a ton bit of reluctance, he agreed, as long as I took him to a specific place to get it cut.  So I did, and none of the ladies in there could believe how long his hair was!  They couldn’t believe he wanted it cut.  Probably because he didn’t.  Like a champ, though, he hopped up in the chair and let her begin to cut!

I have to admit, I was nervous for the poor kid!  All these months of loving his huge hair, and he finally agreed to butcher it!  After a few minutes passed, I walked around the corner to take a peek at the progress, and this is what I saw:

How amazing is that?!  He could pretty much pass for Kid of Kid & Play.

SEE??? Source: Egypt Said So.com

SEE???
Source: Egypt Said So.com

I laughed, the ladies were laughing, and even my little man was laughing!  I must say that I was impressed with the lady’s ability to lighten the mood a little, knowing full well that she was partly responsible for ruining the child’s life!  I asked him if we could keep it that way, and he laughed some more.

A little while later, when the lady had finished up, Ronald came around the corner, and I saw my handsome little man’s face again!  He looked years older, reminding me that one day soon I won’t be able to threaten him until he gets his hair cut anymore.  We all loved his hair and oohed and aahed over what a gentleman he looked like.  He ate it up and loved all the attention.

On the way home, as he looked at himself over and over again in the mirror, he actually said, “Wow, Mom. I really like it. I think I might keep it this way from now on.”  I was one happy mama!

Operation Lose the Fro: SUCCESS!!! 



Daily Prompt: Never Again


Today’s Daily Prompt:

Have you ever gone to a new place or tried a new experience and thought to yourself, “I’m never doing that again!”  Tell us about it.  Photographers, artists, poets: show us NEVER.

The very second I read today’s prompt, I knew immediately what I did and said I would never do again – get married.

I know that sounds harsh, but let me explain…

As many of you know, I started dating my first husband when I was only fifteen.  (That’s how we do things here in the south, I guess.)  I was “head-over-heels” for him.  At least I thought I was.  As I look back on it, I wasn’t really in love with him – I was in love with the idea of love.

Obviously, as a young girl, I wanted nothing more than to be swept off my feet by my very own Prince Charming.  Every boy I ever had a crush on had a notebook page devoted solely to doodles of my first name and his last name.  Pitiful, right?  Well, that’s what girls do.

Anyway, back to my first husband – Shortly after we started dating, he became abusive.  You can read all the gory details of his abuse and the vicious cycle I found myself in here.  In addition to beating the crap out of me, though, he also did some other pretty psycho things.  He’s thrown a kitten across the room and into the wall; he’s thrown all my clothes into a bathtub full of bleach; and he’s cancelled my car insurance and then called the police on me.

He really was bi-polar, and he really did need help.  Regardless of what his issues were, however, the bottom line was that he made my marriage complete and utter hell.  I had two very young babies at the time, and he knew I had no money and nowhere to go.  I was trapped in a real life living hell.  And he knew it and fed off of it.

Marriage was terrible, and I wished I had never done it.

When it finally came time for a divorce, I was happy.  I thought that meant that my hell would be over.  I was wrong again.  He fought me for three years, tooth and nail, on everything.  He and his attorney refused to budge on anything, and they did all they could to drag it out for as long as possible.

I swore that I would never ever get married again.  It was awful, and I wanted no part of it.

It was smack-dab in the midst of my daily vows to never again get married that I became pretty close friends with Eugene.  He and I started hanging out and talking a lot about our lives and kids.

That’s when it happened: I fell in love with him.  Damn – this wasn’t supposed to be happening.  I loved being around him, and I hated when we weren’t together.  I was continually amazed at the fact that he wasn’t the same dickhead as my first husband.  I really had no idea that men weren’t all the same.  But he wasn’t.  He was sweet and caring and loving.  He was a good dad, and he also showed interest in my kids, which was a major issue for me.

I ended up really falling “head-over-heels” in love with him, a feeling that was so foreign to me that I wasn’t sure what was going on.  I had never felt this way about anyone, and I certainly never felt it about my first husband.  Eugene wasn’t mean to me, and he wasn’t abusive.  Was it possible that someone could actually love me for the broken woman I was?

It was possible.  And he did.  We ended up moving in together and talking about – you’ll never guess – MARRIAGE!

Wait, what?!  I never wanted to go through that again, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of not spending forever with him.  What was I supposed to do?

I’ll tell you what I did – I did exactly what I swore I would never do again.  I married the man of my dreams.  And I haven’t, to this day, regretted the decision to go back on my promise to myself to never travel back down that road.  Of course, I have no guarantees that this marriage will end up any different than my first one, but the difference is that this time, I want to try it, and I want it to work.

You have no idea of all the blessings God has in store for you, even when you’re broken and angry.  Never say never, friends.    

Photo by K&D Pro Photography

Photo by K&D Pro Photography

 


The Boys of Fall


Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

He peered through the holes in his face mask and looked up into the bleachers. There they were – his whole family – beaming with pride at their star athlete. Okay, maybe he wasn’t a star yet. But he would be someday. He just knew it.

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

He heard the whistle blow, and he knew that this last play would determine the entire game. They were down by six, and a single last-second touchdown would seal the championship for him and his teammates.

He could feel the pressure. He could no longer hear the crowd of parents, grandparents, and siblings screaming their names, but could only hear his own heart pounding out of his chest.  Ba-boom.  Ba-boom.  Ba-boom.

He knew the team was counting on him. He couldn’t let them down. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and called his snap count. He felt the ball fall perfectly between his fingers. There was nothing like that feeling of the pigskin about to leave his hands and sail across the field.

He dropped back three steps, just like he did perfectly in practice every day. He caught a glimpse of his receiver at the exact spot on the field where he needed to be. This was it. The moment they had prepared for all season.

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

He cocked his arm back, took one last deep breath, and let the ball sail to its perfectly calculated place on the far-end of the field. The crowd fell silent. No one dared to blink. Even the players seemed to be in a trance as they watched the ball near its target.

It glided through the air and began its descent like a perfectly aimed missile. Only that’s when he noticed… It wasn’t quite perfect. It was a little too far past his eagerly waiting receiver. The crowd knew it, too. Everyone’s shoulders seemed to slump.

He could barely stand to watch as the ball landed only feet behind his receiver, thumping loudly to the turf. He heard the buzzer sound, signaling that the game was over. That the season was over. He had let his teammates down.

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

Dreading his walk of shame to the locker room, he put his head down, utterly defeated. How would he face his teammates now? He just couldn’t believe it. He practiced that exact play so many times that he was sure he could make the pass in his sleep.

As he headed back to the locker room, he thought about the irony of his refusal to look away from the very ground that caught his pass. He began rewinding the play in his mind just as he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

Sure he was going to be reamed by his coach or a teammate, he looked up slowly, fearing what was about to come. To his surprise, however, his entire team stood behind him, heads held high. He could barely keep his emotions in when it happened.

They hoisted him up on their shoulders and walked him the rest of the way to the locker room. They showered him with “good tries” and “we’ll get it next years.” He had never been so proud to be part of a team.

He knew that, at that very moment, they were more than just teammates.

They were brothers.

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography

Photo by Alicia Benton Photography


Mephobia: Fear of Becoming so Awesome That the Human Race Can’t Handle It and Everybody Dies


Jolene spoils me.  It’s plain and simple.  She is just too good to me.

This time, she awarded me with the Quintet of Radiance: Five Ennobling Awards!  I’m not worthy of the honor, but of course, I won’t turn such a thing down!

Here is the idea behind the award: To serve as a constant reminder for our thoughts to remain Versatile, to brighten up the dark pathways of the mind with Sunshine, respect our Inner Peace, bring about changes by being positively Influential, and make this pale blue planet an Awesome  place to abide in.

There are no other rules to this awesome award, so I’ll just “pay it forward” by nominating five very special bloggers:

Luminous Blue – Once you read her story, you will be hooked.  What an amazing tribute to her beautiful daughter.

Fish of Gold – She is a fighter and a winner.  She’s been through things most people can’t even imagine.  And she’s come out of those things stronger and more beautiful.

 

talktodiana – She has a heart of gold and spends her time trying to change the world.

 

rarasaur – She is completely selfless and amazingly thoughtful.  I’m proud to show off my token of friendship from her!

RePrEsSeD ExPrEsSiOnS – She, too, is a fighter and has beat breast cancer!  She’s also a pediatric dialysis nurse (which is right up there with teaching heroes) and an unashamed Christian.

Clearly, I’m not fit to receive this award because I’m nowhere near as amazing as these ladies.  But I accept this award from the amazing Jolene with a ginormous amount of thanks!

If you’re not already following these ladies (and Valley Girl Gone Country), then DO IT NOW!  It’ll make you awesome, too, just knowing them!


Tiffany Kleiman ~ Author

“I don’t care if a reader hates one of my stories, just as long as s/he finishes the book.” ~ Roald Dahl, WD

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