My cat’s name is Buddy, but I doubt that I have ever called him by his name. To me he is Boopy, Boopty-doo, BooBoo or Boopty-doopty.
I’ve never been one to use pet names or talk baby talk to anyone. There are only a few exceptions and I have to really feel a great deal of affection in order to stoop to the rediculas such as this. For I am not sappy, nor do I ususally stand for such behaviour. I have never referred to a love interest as Baby, Honey, Sweetheart, etc. I would feel embarrassed. Don’t get me wrong, I am a mush on the inside. I cry at the drop of a hat and I’m one of those who needs a box of kleenex when watching movies that pull on the heart strings.
The only human beings that I ever had pet names for were my brother and one of my sisters. My brother was given an unconventional name when he was born. Jean Phillipe. His name was never meant to be pronounced as Gene, it is the French name for John. My mom nicknamed him Jody because she loved the show Family Affair with Buffy and Jody. My step-father called him Jo-Po. Which he pronounced Yo-Po. So as an adult he now uses his given name, Jean, but he pronounces it John and everyone in his adult life calls him John. Except for me and my mom. He’ll always be Jody to me. It’s an affectionate name and it is who I relate to when I think of him. I know many siblings who as adults still call their brothers and sisters by the nicknames they had as kids. I have a friend who calls his sister, Denice, Neicy. Since I am around them a lot, I have found myself referring to her as Neicy as well.
When I was 10 years old, my mom gave birth to my sister. My mom had endometriosis and had to have a cesarean. When she was getting ready to come home from the hospital, her stitches tore and her abdomen opened. It was a nasty experience and in the end my mom had to remain in bed and could not get up even to tend to my sister as she had gauze and dressings on her wound and could not risk it coming open again. I stayed home from school for two weeks and at 10 years old, I was making formula (from scratch), and taking care of an infant, from diaper changes to bathing. I was the one who got up for the 2 am feedings. I would get everything and bring it to my mom as she had to remain in bed. Through all of this, I developed a deep attachment to my sister. I loved her a protected her fiercely.
A few years later our family was stationed in Germany. (Step-father was an officer in the Air Force) My mom had to come back to the states for my grandfather’s funeral and she again became ill due to the endometriosisand this time she had to have surgery which kept her in the states for several months. I was 13 and had to take on full responsibility for my sister. She was with me 24 hours a day. She was barely 3 years old at the time. My step-father didn’t pay much attention to us. He went to work, came home and he really didn’t bother to care for us kids. My brother and my other sister were cared for by the neighbors as we lived on an air force base in Germany and everyone in our housing community was like family.
My mom says she was receiving letters from people on our base about how us kids were being neglected and they were doing everything they could to help out, but since my step-dad was an officer, there wasn’t a lot that they could do, so they kept my mom informed and watched over us kids.
I worked at the commissary on base as a grocery bagger for tips and what I earned there was enough to feed my sister and I. We could go to the chow-hall on base and eat as much as we wanted for less than a buck. They never made me pay for two, I just paid ninety nine cents and went through the buffet line and got enough for both of us.
Movies on base were twenty-five cents and they never charged me for her, so I was able to go with my friends. There was a time though when her legs were hurting her and I had to leave because she was crying. Another time, I was at a dance and took her with me and she got scared so I had to leave and take her home. It was not easy caring for a toddler when I was only 13 years old. I was the oldest and was always there to help my mom. She could depend on me and I felt grown up to be able to follow through.
Fortunately this all occurred during the summer so school was out. It was a long, long few months without my mom. My sister started calling me “mama”. I discouraged that and I don’t know where she got the idea to call me that. I told her not to call me that. It was too weird and I was already getting so tired of having her with me constantly with no break. I could not be a normal kid with a three year old attached at the hip. For all intense purposes I had become like a mother. Hence, the pet name.
My pet name for my sister was Tootie. It all began when I was about 11 and my sister would follow me everywhere. One day, and I am NOT proud of this, but remember, I was a kid, I called out, “Come here shit head.” and she came running with delight. I thought it was so funny. I know it wasn’t and to this day she holds it against me for calling her that. Although she doesn’t really remember it. It’s just a story that has lasted over the years. I don’t remember how the name Tootie came to be, but it was around that time that I started to call her that and it stuck. To me, it was endearing. My “Tootie” was just the sweetest child.
For me, the pet name that I called my sister was just like when I call out to my precious kitty cat that I love so much. I don’t call out, “Buddy.” I call out with affection, “Where’s my Boopy?” Sappy, I know. <sigh> That’s just the way I am.
Pet names are not unusual and I have seen many families carry on from children into adulthood speaking of special people in their lives whether it’s an aunt, uncle, grandparents and yes, siblings who are known to them under a specific name given of love, carried forward as if to say “YOU” are special to me. “YOU” know me like no one else does. “YOU” know “ME”.
My brother used to drive me nuts and there were times I felt like I hated him. There are many more things I remember that he did that showed his true spirit. I used to help my mom do the easter baskets so I didn’t have one, I just got my share of the candy. One easter morning I woke up and my brother had taken candy from his basket and made me an easter basket because he thought I didn’t get visited by the easter bunny.
I picked on him, but God help anyone else who did. There were a few times when I came to his rescue. Man, I wished I had a big brother or sister to protect me. Nope, I was the protector. And, I was the tormentor at times too. It’s just the way it is in the sibling world. =)
Yes, the people we grew up with lived the same ups and downs with the same family, under the same roof. We grow into adults and we have our adult lives and we change and grow out of the person we were as kids. Yet, I have to believe that in some ways there is a certain sense of gratification in all of us because we have someone in our life who remembers the milestones of our childhood because they were there with us.
I no longer call my sister Tootie but sometimes I call her the “Pootin Lady” and she gets so MAD! LOL! No harm is meant by it. All of us have fart stories. One time they caught me on tape and played it for everyone. It was really funny though. See, we all know each other’s most embarrassing stories too.
Pet names are given to those who remain the closest to our hearts.
So, after having my bad hair experience and many tears, today was much better.
I shampooed my hair and some of the red faded and it now looks more Auburn and less radical red. I didn’t put any hair products in my hair and just blow dryed it by running my hands through it so that it layed down a bit more. It doesn’t look as bad today.
My mom let me pick out a hat from her Etsy store. I chose this one.
Hunter Green 100% Virgin Wool Cap. Has a gently curving brim — an open roll — and the brim is flaired in the back. Lots of texture… which I tend to love.
The flower is a magenta camelia type with 5 petals in two rows and rayon, nylon pink center. There are two woodsy green leaves and one bud with a small leaf on the stem.
I received compliments when I was wearing the hat this evening. Not just from women, but one of my male friends said he really liked the hat and that it looked good on me. He’s funny. He took off his hat and wore mine for a little while (just joking around) but he said he did really like it.
Of course I was encouraged that my hair didn’t look as bad as I thought it did and that it will grow back. One friend even said that she didn’t notice my hair, she noticed my smile.
Today was a better day thanks to my mom and my friends. It IS nice to be loved.
I went for a haircut yesterday and there was a BIG MISCOMMUNICATION with the stylist and I ended up with a buzz cut. I have less than a centimeter of hair all over and on top it sticks straight up looks like a bird. I have about an inch of hair on the top.
The stylist kept gushing about how CUTE this looked on me, and I was TOO fucking polite not to cry right then and there. Even Brad was shocked but he didn’t say anything because I didn’t say anything. Then he was pissed because he said he would not have paid for it and he wanted to go back and complain and get his money back. It was only a $9.99 cut. I don’t care about the money. If they can’t give me my hair back, then there’s nothing to rectify the situation.
So, I have cried and I feel so UGLY and every time I walk by the mirror it is a shock.
I’m pissed at myself.
I will probably wear a hat for the next two months.
The hair cut is hideous so I don’t want to hear that it looks cute or anything about it. You don’t need to say anything.
Thank GOD my hair grows fast!
My head even feels COLD without any hair on the back. Wearing a hat isn’t just to cover up, it makes me feel like I have my hair. I look bad in the hats too but it’s better than this fucking buzz cut!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don’t understand what happened. I showed this woman a picture of how I wanted my bangs (which is NOTHING like this!) I thought she knew what she was doing and when she ran up the back of my head with the (whatever those things are called that they use on men) hedgers, and I saw all of my hair fall to the floor I went into shock. I think that is why I didn’t say how much I hated it. Then she was going on and on about how great it looked.
After leaving the salon, in shock, traumatized. I thought maybe a different color would make me look better. So I go in and pick up an auburn color. It turns out to be RED! So not only do I have a hidous hair style but it’s red. Not pretty.
This stylist does the hair for one of my friends, and does a good job. Everyone compliments my friends hair, and in fact that is how I happend to go to this stylist.
She cut my hair last time and did a good job.
What the hell happened???????
There’s nothing can be done to fix this, because I have no hair to fix.
I am traumatized enough, so PLEASE when you see me, don’t say anything about the hair.
Later we can have a good laugh but right now it’s not funny. To me anyway. Yet, I do look a fright and it is laughable. Would have made a great halloween look. Hopefully my hair will grow fast and I can do something with it soon.
This is probably why I have always felt the need to have access to bodies of water. I don’t think I have ever lived beyond a few hours drive of the ocean in my life. When I think about the states in the middle of the USA, I often feel this dreadful feeling of being boxed in. I’m sure they have lakes and rivers that if I were to live there, I would go to, but there is just something about the ocean that relaxes me. The sound of the seagulls, the salty air, the waves crashing along the shore or onto the rocks. It mesmerizes my spirit and frees my mind.
When I lived in San Francisco I would often take my lunch hour and get a sandwich and drive down and sit in my car facing the ocean while I ate my lunch. It relaxed me. Then I’d head back to the office.
Now that I live in Sacramento, it takes an hour and a half drive to get there from here. I moved to Sac because the cost of living was cheaper but I do miss the bay.
I do have a huge aquarium in my living room. =) Oh, and candles. I MUST have candles. The mood of the room feels so good when there are candles. My husband drives me crazy because he could sit in his recliner in the dark with just the tv going. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing with this guy because we have NOTHING in common. It frustrates the shit out of me. We are like night and day. He’s a good man though and treats me exceptionally well. I probably am more of a pain in the ass to live with than he is. He thinks I’m silly with my candles.
The main strength of the Water types is feeling. The second element indicates the most probable focus for this emotional expression.
Emotional? Am I emotional? LOL!!! I run on emotions baby! I drive myself and everyone around me crazy with my emotional ups and downs.
Chimera
Water with Fire
Astrologically associated with Cancer and the Fourth House
Chimera types are motivated to achieve and maintain emotional closeness between themselves and those they are close to. They are among the most outgoing of all the types. They have a strong sense of community harmony and cooperation. They are devoted to their family whether this is an actual family or a specially chosen group of like-minded individuals.
This is true. I may not always see eye to eye with my relatives but I do consider my friends as my family. They have been with me more over the years than my relatives have.
They thrive in company and are rarely alone.
I do like my alone time though, but even when I am secluded on my computer, I have many online friends who keep me company.
They find personal fulfillment in supportive nurturing and caring roles but they emphasize self-reliance for all. They are intensely protective of those they love and are both perceptive and intuitive regarding their needs. They can seem at times to be in a world of their own because of a capacity for reflection. They are very emotionally expressive which can seem like “gushing” to other more restrained types.
In tonight’s episode of Brothers and Sisters, Robert says this to Kitty when she confides that she is so afraid of allowing herself to feel hopeful about an upcoming adoption. She’s been let down before. She cannot bear to have her heart broken again.
If you are afraid of getting your heart broken then you are not ready to be a parent.
No truer words were ever spoken.
I have only been pregnant one time in my life. I sailed through with no complications. I remember every milestone and even had moments that were captured forever in my memories. The first time I felt him kick. Like a flutter of butterflies soft and light. Amazing. My life’s purpose was no longer my own.
Labor was a bitch and so was I. It seemed to go on f o r e v e r!!!! The first time I held him, all was forgotten and all that mattered was this new life with everything to look forward to. This gift, this precious gift from God. That ride home from the hospital, I think we drove 25 mph. LOL!!! Weary of every vehicle around us. Me sitting in the back seat guarding my angel. I wonder how many new parents take that approach on that first trip in the car with a new infant?
All of a sudden I joined the “baby” club. Anywhere I went that there was anybody carrying a baby carrier, we had to stop and exchange stories and compare how many months old they were, were they sleeping through the night, cute stories, etc. I called it the baby club. =)
As parents we are with our children through all of their firsts. We experience their first words, first steps, first friendships, everything. We are first in their eyes too. They cry when we are apart and run to us with delight as soon as we are in sight smothering us with hugs and kisses. Ah, the feel of my son’s heavy head on my shoulder when he was a toddler. So many times I carried him and his sweaty cheek would rest against my neck. His voice, “Mommy!” Oh, how I miss that little child.
There were times that I had to push him in the direction of depending on himself. I had to stop wiping his butt, for example. LOL!!! All of a sudden I recall the days when I’d hear, “Mommy…. come wipe my butt.”
The time flew by so fast. So many things I didn’t get to do. Many things I long for. Things I wish I had done better. I wanted more time.
Time doesn’t stop. He’s approaching 19 now. Grown into his own person and is itching to move out on his own. He’s ready.
This day was bound to happen.
Heartbreaking? Hell YES it’s heartbreaking!
For sometime, I’ve no long been there to experience many of the “firsts”. He confides in others now. His aunt (my sister) gets to be the cool one. Though she has different standards for HER daughter, as she is parent and not friend.
Sometimes I’m lucky to have him tell me stuff that’s going on or about his friends. There is the parent barrier always there though. It hurts. I know it’s normal, but it hurts the same. Sometimes when he confides in me about stuff he and his friends do, it’s stuff I really don’t want to hear. I do want to hear, but I don’t. But I do. As a parent, I can’t always be cool, or his friend.
Our relationship is transitioning.
He’s grown. He does grown up stuff now. The same stuff I did and many people did when they were 19 years old. All I can hope for is that I raised him and taught him enough to be sensible and make good choices. But really, at 19?
At 19 I thought I knew it all. (Technically he won’t be 19 until May so he’s 18 1/2)
In a couple of months he’s moving 3 hours away to live with roommates and attend college. It won’t be as easy (financially) as it has been living at home, but he needs/wants to be on his own. I worry about him smoking pot and doing drugs, drinking and ruining his health. Kids party. It’s a fact of life and right now life is one big party cause this is his first time being free of parental control.
He pretty much knows it all too. I cannot tell him much or give advice because I’m not as smart or worldly as he is. Hopefully by the time he gets older I’ll get smarter and wiser too. =)
I think God created teenagers to help parents get through the transition. Yes, there are many things that I will be happy to not have to deal with. In some ways I am looking forward to my freedom. I can walk around the house naked if I want to. My husband and I will have more time to get to know each other again. Having teens around kind of kills the opportunity for romance.
It’s bittersweet when children grow up. I look at him and feel melancholy often. Feeling the loss of my little boy. Missing the bond between mother and child. I’ll always remember his little husky voice, the cute mannerisms and the feel of him sleeping in my arms. I’ll never stop praying that nothing bad happens to him out there in the world on his own; trusting that he’ll make choices that will get him through college and have a long prosperous and happy life with a family of his own. Hopefully I will be lucky and he’ll marry a woman I like and get along with.
And so today, I think back to that first trip in the car leaving the hospital when he was a newborn infant and how I was so fiercely protective. Heart breaking? You bet it is!
Please God! Keep him safe!
Parents: Nearly half of American teens and pre-teens have tried drugs. If you think that statistic can’t possibly include your child, think again. Learn about the newest drugs that you’ve likely never heard of, but your kids have. TheDoctorsTV.com
"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control at times and hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." -- Marilyn Monroe
If by a "Liberal" they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people — their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights, and their civil liberties — someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad, if that is what they mean by a "Liberal," then I'm proud to say I'm a "Liberal." -- John F. Kennedy
