Go Ahead...Take It

Dear Criminal,

I realize that it was pretty dumb for me to leave my GPS in plain sight of your crackhead addicted self, but I had out of state company in town and we were in need of groceries. So, with 3 kids in tow, we proceeded into the grocery store. Although I normally take my GPS down and/or with me, I thought that I could have a reasonable amount of security since it was the middle of the day in a well populated area.

I know that you don't care it was in the middle of the day and everyone could see you. You were surrounded by stores like Home Depot, Lowes, Red Lobster and Giant (the grocery store). I thought I had parked in a safe location. It was the front spot with only one available spot next to me. You thought differently.

So, you smashed in my driver's side window and started searching through MY personal belongings. The belongings that my husband has worked so very hard for and earned by serving his country for 24 years in the Marine Corps. He protects our country so that your crap for brains has the freedom to smash my window and take my belongings like it is your God given right.

You took my GPS, my cell phone charger and my child's Leapster. The Leapster that he cried the whole way home about. I hope you are happy.

Now here is where I laugh. You are a completely worthless degenerate. My GPS is a lockable unit. You cannot use it unless you go to the security location (which only I know) and/or enter a security code. Good luck with that moron! Your GED, criminal loving mind won't be able to process that. In addition, my child's Leapster had a rechargeable battery on it. So, once you play it (or your soon-to-be criminal child) long enough...the battery will die and it will be useless to anyone. I hope the cell phone charger fits your phone loser, so smashing my window was worth your while.

For future reference, please steal more stuff from people, because the insurance company will only cover non-vehicle items if it exceeds your deductible. I am dealing with "home owners" insurance and I have a $500.00 deductible. And, since you didn't steal more stuff...I don't think I have met my minimum. Thanks for the smashed window and the headache that has come with it. Thanks for scaring my children and for giving me no faith in society. My son wanted to know before he went to sleep what the bad people wanted with his Leapster. Maybe you could tell me that.

I hope you can wake up this morning and look yourself in the mirror. I feel sorry for you. My children learned a valuable lesson today. People like you exist and they aren't going anywhere. Thanks for that lesson. It is something that myself or my friends would never be able to teach them. You are worthless.

A productive member of society,
Deana

That's Me

Yup...I am a toucher. As I strolled through Target alone, I figured something out. I had dropped Darah off at preschool and I needed to pick a few things up. I always end up in the toy aisle. I looked at toys and used restraint. However, I couldn't handle it any longer.

The toys called me. If a toy makes a sound or moves in any way, I have to touch it. It's not that I am interested in buying it...I just want to touch it. I walked down an aisle and it had trucks and planes in it. I see a helicopter. It has BUTTONS! Yes, I want to touch it. So, I do. The man behind me must know that I didn't have any interest in buying it. He wasn't touching anything.

So, I move to the next aisle. And then, I touch the babies and listen to them coo. It's fun. It's spontaneous and I find myself enjoying it a little too much.

Are you a toucher? Or is it just me? I can't control myself.

Times...they are a changing...

OK...I haven't blogged in a while, but I felt compelled to do so today. Do you have to ask why?!? It is Tuesday, November 20th! It is Inauguration Day!

First and foremost, I must admit...I did not vote for Barack Obama. However, I am very optimistic for several reasons. Yes, we need a change. To quote Alan Cohen, "It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." Change is good.

Secondly, I am ecstatic that my children will look at me in dismay when I say, "I remember when our first African American President was inaugurated." That gives me so much hope. My children will not remember a divided world based on race alone...or so I hope. I almost cried with pride when President Obama stated, "This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath." We have come a long way. And although I may not support every creed that President Obama stands for, I do support the fact that our nation needs to come together and join in celebrating our similarities.

Today is a day that will go down in history. I am so glad that I am a part of it. I support President and wish him well. God Bless America!

30 Years Yesterday...

Three decades have passed and it seems like yesterday. My mother, Betty Jean Dunn Bowling, was 32 years old and 8 days from her 33rd birthday when she lost her life. I was 6 years old and my sister was 9 years old. My mother and father were divorced. My mother was young, vibrant, loving and definitely too young to be taken away from this world.

She died in a car crash on her way to a funeral. I am told that she died instantly. I still don't understand the events and I am very angry. No one prepares you to grow up without a mother. No one explains what a toll it will take on your life...forever. I didn't have my own children until I was 31 years old. I think I have always been scared for the same destiny or that I wouldn't know how to be a Mom.

I still don't think I have ever properly grieved for her. I don't know how. I remember her much better than I should. And, I fear forgetting her.

I know that I live my life not wanting to die the way that she did. I am angry at her for leaving me at such a young age. I know it is not her fault, but I need to blame someone. My Mom died when I was 6 years old. Her mother (my grandmother) died when she was 6 years old. I have always felt like my days were limited. My children want for nothing and I love them with all of my being. So, why am I so scared that they won't remember me? Why am I so scared of leaving them?

Yesterday was Election Day and it was the day my Mom passed away (30 years prior). Change is such a peculiar word. Life changes. We all evolve. There are some days where I want the world to stop. I want to live in this moment and love my husband and children and not move forward.

I miss my mother. I miss what I could have had. I grieve her loss and rejoice her memory. I feel her presence and I don't ever want to forget her laughter and her love. I don't want to stop missing her.

So, on this day...I give myself permission to grieve her and mourn her loss. And then, I will pick myself up, wipe away the tears and never forget to be the best mother for my children. My mother would want me to take advantage of every moment spent with them. I will do that for her, for myself and for my children. If you read this, do it for your children as well. None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. My mother did not have any inclination that she would die at the age of 32. I don't know what my future holds, but I hope to love my family and friends and make a positive impact on this world. Life is too short to do otherwise.

Darah Should Be Named Damien

Today started off fairly well. Dyson woke up, got ready for school, got on the bus without any issues and Darah and I came home.

Darah and I went to Gymboree. We had fun. We came home. She fell asleep. The phone rang.

The school nurse called to let me know that my little man was sick. He had a fever of 101 and I needed to pick him up.

So, I woke up my Dare Bear and we picked up Dyson.

He cried when he saw me and it broke my heart. I think he was just so overwhelmed and seeing me made it OK to let it all out. I guess Moms always have that affect.

I took him to the pediatrician and he had an ear infection.

This is when I realized my daughter was evil.

Dyson fell asleep on the way to the doctor's office and on the way back home. Darah commenced to yelling at him to wake up and at one point she threw her wireless headphones at him. WHAT?!? She is so mean to him.

I told her to be quiet, because Dyson was sleeping and he was sick. She didn't care. Are girls born evil or do we turn this way?

Get Off Me Tracy!

So, I met this girl a couple of years ago. She reminded me of well...ME! So, of course I love her. She gave me crapola about my blog, so here I am...posting something.

My Father, Henry Randall Bowling (RIP)

I wrote this last year and I really don't have a better way to express myself, so I thought I would repost it here.

Today is the 4th Anniversary of my father's death. It's a hard day for many reasons. I am a very optimistic person and I love to celebrate life. However, losing both parents has been very rough for me. I try not to talk about it much, but I know that I need to grieve. It's hard to keep it all inside.

My Dad was diagnosed with bile duct cancer in April 2004. It was inoperable and not treatable with chemotherapy or radiation. The cancer had spread up his spinal column and was entering his vital organs. He appeared to be jaudice...like a newborn baby. My Dad was very hopeful and believed in the power of prayer. Nonetheless, after a short 4 months...he passed away on August 14, 2004.

My Dad and I had some rough times and had somewhat of a tumultous relationship. Nonetheless, I miss him more than I ever thought I could imagine.

I got a phone call 4 years ago and was told that my Dad had taken a turn for the worse and I needed to come see him. Dean came home and we packed within minutes and left for West Virginia from Michigan. Dyson was 15 months old. We traveled through the night and got to WV around midnight. My father was at home and hospice was giving him the care he needed. The man I saw was not the lively, caring, boistrous individual that I knew and loved. He was sitting in his recliner and looked like he had aged 30 years and lost 50 lbs. He was not able to talk and he did not make eye contact. He groaned quite a bit. The nurse told us that the hearing was the last thing to go, so we all talked to him and kept him in our conversations.

The next day I called a friend from high school (Michael Kessinger) who was a pastor. He knew my Dad and had been coming over to pray with him. I asked if he could come over and pray with my Dad and the family. He came right over. My Dad had many friends and family by his side. We all gathered around him and I grabbed one of his hands and my step-mother grabbed the other. The others joined our hands and surrounded my Dad in a circle. Michael prayed for Dad and our family. After he said his prayer, I got down closer to my Dad and said to him, "Daddy, I know you are in pain and it is time for you to go. I am going to be OK and I love you." I kissed him and within seconds, he took a deep breath and exhaled. He never took another breath. It was obvious that he had passed and he had a look of peace on his face. I think that I had given him the permission to go.

Although I know he is in a better place, I miss him so much. I am angry and saddened that my children will never know their grandfather. I am sad that he never got to meet his granddaughter. I am upset at myself for letting him go. I am mad for being so stubborn and hard headed and never saying "I'm sorry" for some of the things I had done. I know that this is the normal process of grieving. So, why do I feel like I can't breathe at times? I am very thankful for a wonderful husband and beautiful children. I just feel a void. I want to hug him one more time. I still remember the way he smelled. I remember his laugh and his corny sense of humor. Will I forget these things???

I am my father's daughter. I love him, admire him and miss him dearly. I don't make any apologies for that. So, on this day...I remember him fondly and mourn the loss of a great father, son and person!

In Memory of Randall Bowling.



This picture was taken in May 2004 (3 months before he died).