A chat with my daughter, Princess, Thursday ended up with me agreeing to go shopping Friday morning with her and the children. It is important to note that Princess is a world class shopper, she could go everyday....all day. I don't know who she got that from, but I assure you dear reader, it wasn't me!

With 2 small children, namely 19 month old Trooper Junior and 3 month old Angel, shopping has turned into an occasional trip when I can come over and baby sit, or when I agree to come along and provide a much needed extra pair of hands.

Princess knows and understands why the two of us can't and should never shop together, so the previous trips have been short. 4 hours is my limit and that includes driving time.

The grandchildren provide me with a much needed distraction and I can focus all of my attention on them.

The first order of business after running a few quick errands in town was to be at the new Olive Garden when they opened the doors at 11:00, and we did. In record time the dining room we were seated in began filling up and it seemed every table had at least 1 child under 4 years old, and I counted 6 infants, including Angel.

Just as they brought out the salad and breadsticks, 2 young men were being shown to a booth, right next to our table.

HOSTESS: Is this alright?

LITTLE SNOT # 1- You wouldn't happen to have a no rug rats section would you?

LITTLE SNOT # 2- Yeah, really....what is this....Romper Room...?

They sit down and glance my way and smile smugly. If I were a cat, I would have been hissing at them with claws extended and ready to scratch.

I amuse Trooper Junior who is sitting beside me in a high chair. Trooper Junior is a friendly child and begins telling everyone, "Hey". I beam with pride when they return his "hey" with a "hey" of their own and say how cute he is.

He has now greeted everyone seated around us with the exception of the Snot Twins. Little Snot #1 glances over and makes eye contact. Trooper Junior takes that as his cue to greet him, "Hey". Little Snot #1 turns his head and ignores him. Trooper Junior says, "Hey", once more, and then again, getting louder each time until he screams, "HEY" loud enough to wake the dead. Princess is ready to crawl under the table and keeps telling me through clenched teeth, "Mama...do something", so I give him a slice of tomato which he devours, followed once more by, "HEY".

LITTLE SNOT #2-If that kid don't shut up,I'm gonna stuff a bread stick in his mouth."

Princess with eyes wide, says to me, "Did you hear what he just said?"

Princess knows me well and knows that I can take a lot, except when it comes to my children.

I look Little Snot #2 right in his eyes and say very sweetly:

"I wouldn't advise EVER trying to do that."

Little Snot #2- To do what?

"Shoving a bread stick in his mouth. He is just a baby." (What I really wanted to say was: Just try it buster and you will still be removing bread sticks from your behind next Easter)

Little Snot # 2- I apologize.

"Good. Thank you. Now, tell him, "Hey"."

Little Snot #2-Hey little boy.

Trooper Junior-(smiling) Hey.

Naturally when the main course arrived, Angel began to cry. Princess picked her up out of the car seat, holding her with one arm while trying to eat. Poor thing, I don't think she has finished one meal since Angel was born.

"Let me have the baby"

She protested a little bit before handing her over. I turned her around facing the Snot Twins and she stared a hole through them, then began to smile and laugh. Before long, the 2 Snot's were talking to her and Little Snot #1 even engaged in some baby talk.

After lunch it is time to head for the mall. Princess recently purchased a double stroller and had no idea how to unfold it. Setting it up took about 10 minutes.

With Angel, everything has to be just so-so. She loves to ride in the car. As long as it is moving that is, and begins to cry should you get under 50 MPH. Red lights are HELL! As soon as the vehicle is moving again she whimpers until you reach 50 and then stops. The same goes for the stroller, she is fine as long as you are moving.

45 minutes after arriving at the mall, she is ready for a bottle. I get her out and feed her while walking behind Princess and the stroller. Full and burped she is ready for a nap. In the meantime, Trooper Junior, who takes after his mama and loves to go bye-bye and shop is rocking and rolling. He is having the time of his life from the front stroller seat, telling everyone, "Hey".

He tries to snap his fingers in tempo to the music that is playing in the different stores, moving his little body up and down and screaming: "Me-Ma....dance.......Me-Ma dance". He LOVES it when Me-Ma dances, especially with him, but for now is content to snap fingers and watch Me-Ma dance, which I am reluctant to do.

Inside the toy store, Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC is playing. He LOVES this song,partially because it is his daddy's cell ring tone, plus it has a good beat.

"Me-Ma......Me-Ma.....dance.....dance....."

I glance around and don't see anyone close by so I began to snap my fingers along with his and move a little bit.

"Mo' dance....Me-Ma.....mo'....."

Apparently, Me-Ma is not moving enough. Enjoying the look of pleasure on his face, Me-Ma begins to dance while Princess, rolls her eyes.

"Mama....don't....." She says with face turning red, "....you look silly...."

"Hey...what are Mother's for...I get to spend time with the grand kids plus as an added bonus, embarrass you......"

Deciding that life is too short to give a rip about what other people think, Me-Ma begins to really dance and Trooper Junior is delighted while Princess is pretending she doesn't know me.

"Look, you may be embarrassed now, but one of these days when I am dead and gone, ya'll can sit around the table during the holidays and reminisce about Me-Ma busting a move in the toy store."

She walked off in the other direction. When the song was over, Trooper Junior clapped his little hands and blew Me-Ma a kiss.

Now, on my way to find Princess, I turn around and run right smack dab into an old flame. He stands still, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey. How long have you been standing there?" I ask as I feel my cheeks turn crimson red.

"Long enough to see the floor show." He said winking.

Later Ya'll...^Belle^

Allow me to brag just a bit, and share these recent photos of my 2 beautiful grandchildren. They are truly the sunshine of my life!

(ANGEL DOING HER MARILYN MONROE IMPRESONATION)

(Trooper Junior ready to go bye bye)

(Trooper Junior,giving sister,Angel, the once over)

(Angel looking pretty in pink, in an outfit bought by her daddy)

Later Ya'll...^Belle^

Okay, something strange is going on here. Since my last session a couple of days ago with my therapist, I can't stop crying. What is up with that? I've always been a rather emotional and sensitive person, though, most people that think they know me well, would never imagine it.

Sure, I cry each year, even at 40 something years old, when Frosty The Snowman melts, and never, ever purchase a greeting card until I find one that makes the baby blues well up with tears. Plus, I have an entire photo album filled with photographs of people that I don't know and have never met. That is a big confession for me to make, since,before now, only 1 person other than me was privy to that information.

It started innocently enough when a friend and I ventured into a thrift store one day and laying among others discarded and no longer wanted items for sale was a photograph of a precious little girl in a frilly red dress, smiling a big, bright smile. I don't mind telling you, that broke my heart. She deserved better than to be sitting in a thrift store with .50 cents written in black marker across the glass. I didn't need the frame, and ended up discarding it, but I keep the photograph and placed it in a new album. From then on anytime I came across frames with photos still in them, I bought it and placed them in the album.

Among the other photos, is one of a young man in a baseball uniform. On the back it states his name, date of birth and date of death. He was 15 years old.

I shared this story the other day with my therapist. He asked me a startling question.

"Do you, in some way, identify with the people in those photographs?"

I had never even considered that. The question resounded over and over in my mind on the way home. Later, I dug the album out of a closet and looked at the pictures. The very first one is of the little girl in the red dress. I began to cry. With the turning of each page, the tears came faster, until I could no longer see.

The answer to that question, was, "yes". I did identify with those people. It breaks my heart each time I look at them. No one cared enough to keep these photos that captured a moment in someone's life along with their image. They were disposable. Not important. Not cared for, not loved or wanted.

I identify with all of those things, and I'm not sure why. Even though I was adopted and raised in a warm and loving home by equally warm and loving parents, even though I KNEW I was loved and wanted, somewhere inside of me is the baby girl, born to a convicted felon in prison. A baby girl signed away and given to the state of Alabama.

I married a man I was not in love with because he was emotionally safe. I never considered the fact that he might not be physically safe. Until it was too late. I never realized the mental and emotional toll that it would take on me or the price I would have to pay. I just refused to deal with it.

So, right now, I am a ball of confusion. I am confused about EVERYTHING. I have been crying at the drop of a hat. A song on the radio, a commercial on TV, a sweet little look on Bubba's (one of my dogs) face, the site of Bo's grave in the front yard, pictures of my children when they were little.

This morning while getting dressed, I spent 30 minutes looking for one of my bras. Apparently my underwear has a secret life that I know nothing about as I can never, ever find what I am looking for. It reminded me of a dear friend and the "curse" he put on my underwear drawer. (I'll tell that story some other time, it is a doozie). I was so frustrated that I screamed out loud, "Okay Gregg.....enough is enough! Leave my underwear alone!" I could just picture him up in heaven enjoying my dilemma.

In the back of the drawer, I found a bra I had placed in there about a year ago. Brand new, but I never wore it,because it was too small and too tight. I flung it to the bed while I searched some more. After 15 minutes, I decided, what the heck and put it on. Guess what....? IT FIT!

Maybe this wasn't the same bra. So, I began searching through the underwear drawer again. This had to be it. I don't have and have never owned a bra in this color. But there was no denying the fact that it did fit. I sat down on the bed among scattered underwear from my cursed drawer and cried. I cried so much that I scared The Rat Pack. They were all hunkered down around me....ears slicked back and tails wagging.

I knew I had to get a grip. I also knew that I had a business card with all the contact numbers of my therapist on it. So I called and left a message. 30 minutes later he returned my call, and I explained what had been going on since our last session, that I was confused and VERY emotional, and hadn't gone more than 2 hours without crying about something or the other. I was afraid I was ready for a padded room at the "nervous hospital".

He assured me that was not the case, explaining that I am finally allowing myself to feel things, that I am peeling back layers of my emotions, and have exposed them. I have opened internal doors to release decades of things I never dealt with. When you open a door, not only do things go out, but things come in. One of the things I am letting back in, is me. I am getting back in touch with the person I really am and not the one I created, the "Ice Princess", to deal with emotional and mental pain.

"So, I'm not having a breakdown...?" I asked in between the tears.

"No dear. You are not having a breakdown. You are having a break through." He said gently.

With that settled, I just have one other question.....WHERE IS MY UNDERWEAR?

Later Ya'll...^Belle^