Story time. Like to hear it? Here it goes

The year was 1997. I was pure, not necessarily innocent, but pure. My best friend at the time was “dating” a guy and as a result, I ended up meeting his friend. And this is where the story begins. Literally my life changed in 7 days.

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When I stepped off of that bus, I was greeted by a young man in a yellow FUBU jersey ( that part may not be completely accurate, but follow me), surrounded by a halo.  Laugh if you want. It’s all true. All I seen were ears, yellow, the light of God and my future. I knew then and there he would be mine. And eventually….I think I got him.

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There was something about him that made me fall right then into the pits of Hell, I mean love. He was funny, dominating, not too bad on the eyes and he was great with kids.

**winning!!!!!**

Fast forward to where we are now. Finally going to tie the knot. Been through every peak and valley imaginable with a road map that seems to be heavy in them. Anyone who knows our relationship can attest to the good, bad and ugly. We’ve loved, hated, bonded,split, fussed, cussed and mussed enough for everyone. Through it all, I still seen that halo around the asshole I grew to know and love.

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What started out as a friendship has evolved to this; two people raising Hell and children. What started off as two wild children has resulted in a family of 6. What started off as a follow up to a phone number at a basketball game has made it to the man I plan to spend forever with. Sham fucking wow.

 

As much as I would like to say that all of the trials and tribulations we’ve endured were worth it, they weren’t. Let’s not be cliche. That bus fare back in 1997, however, was.

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When I say Whitney has sung a song for my every thought or emotion…..listen.
































Watch “Whitney Houston – Unashamed” on YouTube

Onion ring and a small Pepsi

The people close to me tease me about my obsession with the grocery store. I’ll go in and spend two times the amount I planned to. Bread, chicken, ground beef, do NOT forget the noodles. I like to eat. I like to cook. And until I just realized we are down to our bare necessities did I understand why.

There was once a time in my young life we had nothing in the house but onions, corn meal and Pepsi. What a combination. Until that point in my life, maybe 11 or so,  I wouldnt touch an onion ring. But when there was nothing but those ingredients….ha. I grew to love them.

I still don’t even know how I knew how to make them, but I remember being in that kitchen, slicing onions, battering and frying them, then eating them slathered in ketchup. And gazing at moms Pepsi. Frosted flakes and Pepsi…Off. Damn. Limits.

Those days are long gone and didn’t last as long as they felt,  but every now and then that despair I felt back then hits me. When I go to plan our meal and realize we don’t have shit. No rice? What? We are out of what? Off to the grocer I go.

  I realized just now, my obsession with full cabinets and freezers is because I don’t want my kids to ever feel that they have to eat something they hate. While not a bad thing, I cook most days in the week. We collectively JUST became privy to the “leftover struggle”. When I spend.my last, it’s making sure everyone has at least ONE thing they like to eat. My trauma is spoiling my children’s culinary choices by GIVING them choices.

But….they can’t have my Pepsi though. Traditions are those for a reason.