Walmart Clientele Sucks

While dinking around on the Internet last night - I came across this little gem on CNN.com.

• "Roger Stephens, 61, was arrested Monday and charged with first-degree cruelty to children. An incident report obtained from police in Gwinnett County indicated Stephens did not know the 2-year-old girl he stands accused of hitting. The confrontation happened shortly before noon at the Walmart in Stone Mountain, a suburb of Atlanta. According to the arresting officer, the child's mother said her daughter was crying as they walked down one of the aisles. The mother said a stranger later identified as Stephens approached them and said: "If you don't shut the baby up, I will shut her up for you."
  A few moments later, while the mother and the crying child were in another aisle, Stephens allegedly grabbed the girl and slapped her across the face. Police said he hit her four or five times. "See, I told you I would shut her up," the suspect allegedly told the mother. Authorities described "slight redness" to the toddler's face. Before he was arrested, Stephens apologized to the mother for striking the girl, the incident report said."
  

Here's the thing. We've all been to Walmart and heard a screaming toddler. We've all been to Walmart and heard a screaming parent. You know what I'm talking about. It usually goes something like this:

"Billy! You stop it. You stop screaming right now or else I'm not going to give you Cheetos and Kool-Aid for dinner! If you don't stop it, I'm gonna feed you vegetables. VEGETABLES!!! Did you hear me? Healthy food!!"

And then after that she shouts:

"Now take your two year old butt and go get Mama some Busch Ice like I told you to!"

Then she shakes her head in exasperation and mumbles to herself:

"When is your Daddy gonna get outta jail???...(pause)... I hope he's your daddy...we'll find out on Maury next month."

I swear, I hear this conversation every time I enter the automatic doors of Walmart. I know what I'm getting myself into. And I know that I not only think about tsk-tsking the screaming toddler - I think about slapping the screaming parent silly. The thought just tickles me from the inside out. But here's the deal, yo.

It's none of my business. When I see this type of occurrence, I just keep walking. I hold my head high. And silently judge. That's what normal people do, right? In that moment, I'm just grateful it's not my toddler who's not having the meltdown. Cause that's happened too. Many a time.

Here's what gets me. This man (he looks just evil, right?) took it upon himself to correct someone else's child - and not only that - he did it by slapping her in the face 4 to 5 times. The little girl is two. And it was close to nap time. Now I'm not blaming the mom for the screaming child here, but...okay, I'm blaming the mom. If you take your two year old in public during naptime - it's never going to be pretty. But I understand. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, and if that means bringing along a tired toddler, then...

I tried to put myself in that mother's shoes (whether they be Jimmy Choo or Faded Glory) and I can honestly tell you that although I would like to think that I would react in a mature and calm matter...I'm certian that would not have happened. I would have gone all sorts of Chris Brown on his hiney...I'm just sayin'.

...it sounds really tough when I say hiney, huh?

It's not a dream...I'm actually updating my blog.

I know I haven't posted in a while, and I want to assure you all that we are alive and well. There has been lots going on, so I'm finding it to be a wee bit difficult making the time to sit down at the computer to document it all. These three children of mine are always demanding something out of me. And how dare they? Can't they just dress/feed/clean/entertain themselves?........ No?......Not so much?......Okay, then.

Andrew and Alivia just got back from spending a whole week in Alaska with my BFF Trudy. She flew down to Seattle, picked them up at the airport and flew back to Cold Frontier...where it was 85 degrees the entire time. We packed mostly jeans and long sleeved shirts for them - and a couple pairs of shorts just in case....and Trudy ended up having to do laundry every day to keep up with the warm weather. They had a BLAST up there and you can read all about it here on Trudy's blog.

Amelia turned ONE!!! We had a small party with just the family here and Amelia got her first taste of cake....that is if she has taste buds in her hair. She went to town on that thing, making a huge mess - and loved every minute of it. Happy Birthday Baby Girl!

Vote for meeeeee!

I know, I know....it's pathetic. BUT - I could win a 12x12 canvas of Amelia. I entered this image of her in a contest and I was chosen as one of 12 nominees. Cool, right? The winner is based on the most votes, so I'm doing what they told us to do and I'm begging, begggggggin' for you to go vote for my shot. Please, oh pretty, pretty please?

Here's the link:
You don't have to sign up or anything, just go vote for #11 - "Bright Eyes"

Do it, and I'll love you forever and ever and ever. This I promise you.

Mother's day at the Zoo

I had the best mother's day yesterday! Jason was super sweet, he let me plan the whole day out - it's was a "let's do whatever you want" day. I L-O-V-E those days. He made the family breakfast. He even did some laundry, guys.....laundry. He totally scored good husband points. We went downtown to Glazers....my own personal heaven. I freaking love that store. I could move in there. It's full of a bunch of photography stuff and the nicest bunch of photography geeks (just like me) you'd ever meet. I love that they get excited for me because I'm so excited about my latest purchase. I love them. Each and every one of them.

It's like coming home to the mothership.

After picking up a new 15mm fisheye lens - it was off to the zoo we went! And crazy busy doesn't even begin how insane it was there. Because apparently it was everybody's idea to go to the zoo too. We even ran into some of our friends that Jason went to college with who we haven't seen in more than 5 or 6 years! Jason was so excited I thought start jumping up and down an clapping like cheerleader! Good to see you Rawls family! We were at the zoo for a total of 6 hours. And by the time it was over, I was so exhausted, I literally fell asleep in the car on the way home.


That gave me the second wind I was looking for and I was able to edit some of the fun pictures from yesterday. So here they are - enjoy!

Who's a big girl? Whooooo's a big girl???

April 2005

April 2006

April 2007

April 2008

April 2009

My sweet baby girl turned 4 last week! And as a way to celebrate her embarking on a new year of life, I decided to interview her. These are her raw, uncensored truths. And the wise old age of 4. Just wait until you get to the last question. Brilliance! Sheer brilliance. And without further adieu...

Me: What is something mom always says to you?
Alivia: You love me.

(true)

Me: What makes Mama happy?
Alivia: We bake cookies together.

(well, eating the dough makes me happy...)

Me: What makes mom sad?
Alivia: Not baking cookies.

(that does weigh heavily on my mind at times)

Me: How does your mom make you laugh?
Alivia: Tickle me.

(straight up Elmo style)

Me: Who are your mom’s best friends?
Alivia: Me and Andrew

(she's so modest)

Me: How old is your mom?
Alivia: 21

(I deposited $100 in her bank account just now. Because she said that.)

Me: How tall is your mom?
Alivia: 60 inches

(um, yeah. She’s pretty darn close. I’m actually 62 inches)

Me: What is Mom’s favorite thing to do?
Alivia: Bake cookies.

(Again, it's not so much the baking as the eating of the dough that I enjoy.)

Me: What does your mom do when you’re not around?
Alivia: Play hide and go seek.

(How did she know?!?)

Me: If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Alivia: Me

(Again. With the modesty.)

Me: What is your mom really good at?
Alivia: Baking cookies.

(All I care about is eating the dough, Alivia. How have you not seen this by now?)

Me: What is your mom not very good at?
Alivia: Making funny faces.

(She's wrong. Dead wrong. Here's the proof)

Me: What does your mom do for her job?
Alivia: Work on the computer.

(Yes, that's true.)

Me: What is your mom’s favorite food?
Alivia: Hot bread!

(Dang, this girl is smart! I love hot bread!!!)

Me: What makes you proud of your mom?
Alivia: Baking cookies.

(Liv. Pay close attention. I don't bake. I eat. The dough.)

Me: Who is your mom’s favorite cartoon character?
Alivia: Archuleta

(I don't even know what to say in response to that. As in David? And in that case, how does she even know about him? Someone get back to me on that.)

Me: What do you and your mom do together?
Alivia: Fall in love.

(We need to have a serious talk about boundaries.)

Me: How are you and your mom the same?
Alivia: Wearing shirts.

(Yup. We are both wearing shirts! Great observation!)

Me: How are you and your mom different?
Alivia: Not wearing the same shirts.

(Yes, they are different shirts! And thank God for that, because your shirt is from the Supercross....and that's not really my thing, per se...)

Me: How do you know your mom loves you?
Alivia: Hugging.

(Awwww...)

Me: Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?
Alivia: Jalapeño Mexican Restaurant and Alfie’s.

(Wrong and barf.)

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Alivia: An ambulance.

(Good luck with that, Alivia. I am here to support you in whatever way I can.)

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!!! I love you lots and lots and I'm super proud of you. Hey, I have an idea....let's make cookies together!

Ellen Pranks Starbucks Customers

I don't know if you all have seen this, but it may be my new favorite thing ever. Ellen plants an earpiece on a Starbucks employee and this (unbelievably amazing) employee has to say whatever Ellen tells her to say. How this girl keeps a straight face is beyond me...cause I was in tears.....tears, I tell you.

Man, I love Ellen. This is gold.....pure gold.

New Blog

Go check out my new fancy blog for The Portrait Place! I decided it was time for an upgrade, so I went a head hired a rad guy named Jared to help me out! And don't forget to update your bookmarks! Why do I keep adding exclamation marks to the end of all my sentences!?!

http://www.theportraitplaceweb.com/blog/

Fun Love

So I just ran across this cute program that lets you put together one of the cute little collages - in different shapes and it takes mere minutes - and the best part? It's free. I like free things. Alot. And I like you. So here you go!

This was my trial run with this program - just grabbed my client folder and used some of my favorite latest images. And you know what I found out by creating this? I take pictures of a lot of newborns. And somehow I never feel like it's enough. I always want more!!! I want more newborn babies!!!!! Just to photograph. Not to birth and then raise. I've already had my fill of those :)

Yep, you're right. I don't work.

Today I went to Starbucks to get my morning iced venti americano with vanilla and cream. I do this every weekday morning - it's part of my routine. I roll out of bed, put on a sweatshirt and slippers and pull my hair back into a really pretty messy pony. I load up the kiddos, drop Andrew off at school and head straight to the Starbucks drive-thru. I do this every morning. The lovely girls there know what I drink. They know my name. They know I do this every morning.

Disclaimer: The only reason I leave the house looking like I do in the morning is because I know I'm not actually getting out of the car. I am fully aware of my hot-mess status, but I don't care because I haven't had my coffee yet, therefore I am still partially asleep. And not ready to accept the fact that it's morning. If I actually had to get out of the car, I promise, a shower would be mandatory.

Okay, back to this morning. I pull up to the drive through, order my coffee at the little speaker box thingy and pull on up to the window. There is this older lady who works there - and she's nice. Fake, but nice. I'm gonna call her Marci. She's always pleasant, always chattin' in her raspy voice but I can tell that she can't be trusted. She's so plastic, it ain't even funny. But I don't care - as long as I get my coffee. It's all good in the hood.

Until today.

I pull up to the window. Marci greets me with her usual super fake smile. It looks like this:Marci: "Hi, hon. How you doin' this morning?"

Me: "Good, how are you?"

Marci (dripping with fakeness): "So super-dee-douper, hon! Thanks for asking. You headed to work this morning?"

I just blinked. And blinked some more. Was she insulting me? I think she was insulting me. Clearly I'm not heading to work. Unless my job was begging on the side of the freeway. And even then I think I'd try to dress up a bit more.

So I just laughed nervously while I gave myself a quick once over.......Awkward.

Me: "Uh......no."

Marci (slaps herself on her forehead with the palm of her hand): "Doh! That's right, hon! You don't work. You have two kids right?"

And now this is where I get pissed. I hate that. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate it when people say that being a stay-at-home-mom isn't work. And usually, I only hear that from old guys who've been around since women were being dragged into caves by their hair. I can (begrudgingly) understand those old farts. They aren't gonna change their way of thinking. And who cares, really. They'll probably be dead within the month anyways. Buh-bye.

But I don't usually hear it from women. Especially women who are old enough to have grandchildren. Now, this here's a guess, but I think this woman probably had children in her day. Because she certainly didn't decide against children so she could follow her career path. She serves coffee at Starbucks, for crying out loud! Nothing wrong with it - but it's sort of an entry level job.

I'm mad. I'm irritated. But I'm trying to smile, because it's the nice thing to do. And I don't want to get crappy coffee on Monday. I depend on that coffee. It's actually a slight addiction. I think I looked something like this:

Me: "Yeah, I have 3 kids. It's 3........not 2......3......kids......And they keep me busy enough, so......."

Marci (stares blankly): "....(blink, blink)........Well, alrighty then. You have a super duper day."

And with, that she slams the window shut.

Me: "Oh, yeah and I also have a business. See, I'm a photographer. I take pictures for people. That also takes up a lot of my time. It's crazy - being a stay-at-home-mom and a work-at-home-mom. I'm so busy I don't even know what to do with myself sometimes. I'm either cleaning floors, or scrubbing counters, or sucking bugars, or doing laundry, or wiping butts, or - oh, yeah and in between I take phone calls from clients and hope to GOD that one of my three, not two, three children doesn't "act up" while I'm trying my best to "sound all professional." Then I cook for those little children - and it's never what they want. No sir! If I make chicken nuggets, they want waffles. Waffles! Even though they just asked for chicken nuggets, they want WAFFLES!!!! I do all those things. And then some. I do a lot. I work. I work plenty! And I'm worn out at the end of the day - because I work all day, every day. I don't ever stop working. I work in my sleep! I work, I work, I work!!!!!"

By the time I was done saying all those things, I realized I'd driven all the way home and was just sitting in my driveway. Talking to myself.

Nice.

I look back at Alivia - and she's just staring at me.

Alivia: "Mooooooooooom?"

Me: "(sigh)......Yes, Liv?"

Alivia: "Can I have waffles?"

I'm NOT part dog!

My kids like to chew on things. But Andrew is by far the worst about it. He has been chewing on anything he could get his hands on, well....from the time he could get his hands on it. When he was three, I was getting really fed up with it, so I went online looking for some parenting advice. I read on some parent forum that if you have a child who likes to chew on things, the solution is to go buy a new rubber doggy chew toy, and give it to them to gnaw on. I thought that was sheer brilliance! So, off I went to Petco, got a good solid chew toy and took it home and ran it through the dishwasher. Then I presented it to him and explained that while it wasn't okay to chew on his clothes or toys, it was okay to chew on this. He seemed intrigued! He took the toy, looked it over, gave it a few good chews, looked at it again and tossed it on the floor, obviously quite unimpressed. Then the dog, as if he'd been waiting for it, quickly snatched the toy off the floor, ran out to the backyard and buried it.

So much for that bright idea.

Well, now Andrew is 7. Four years has gone by since the dog toy incident and I'd like to tell you that he doesn't chew on his things any longer, but unfortunately that would be a lie. He still chews on his sleeves, the collar of his shirts, his Lego's, the Nintendo DS stylus, and most recently he chewed a button of the cable box remote. A flipping button off the remote!

Last night I was going around my house gathering up dirty laundry. I walked into my bedroom where I found one of Andrew's socks. It was soaking wet and I could tell by the look of that thing that he had chewed his way through that sock. And it was sitting on my carpet. Full of slobber.

Me: "ANDREW!!!! Get in here!"

Andrew: "Yeah, Mom?"

Me: "What did you do to that sock?"

He looks down in shame.

Andrew: "I chewed on it."

Me: "Well pick it up, take it to the laundry room and put it in the whites basket. I don't even wanna touch that thing. That is so gross! And why are you still chewing on things? When are you going to outgrow this? I swear, you're part dog!"

I walked past him and went downstairs. A few minutes later, Alivia came up to me carrying a note. (I love how he totally gets her to do his dirty work.)

Alivia: "Dis is fwom Andrew."

I took it out of her hand and walked over to the counter where he was sitting and started reading it out loud. This is what it said:

Page 1
1. I don't chew on bones.
2. I am not as hairy as a dog.
3. I don't chew on toys.
4. I don't eat dog food.
5. I don't walk on four legs.
6. I don't have pahs.
7. I don't have a big nose.
8. I don't bark!
9. I don't have sharp clahs.
10. I don't try and climb walls.
11. I am not black, brown or white.
12. I don't cach a ball with my mouth.
13. I don't drink water with my tonge.
14. I don't live outside or in a dog house.
15. I don't sleep on the flor.
16. I don't beg.
17. I am not part DOG!

Page 2
It breaks my heart that you say that I am part dog when I am not.

I couldn't stop laughing. He was sitting at the counter, and I could tell that he was trying to be mad at me, but he couldn't help but start laughing with me.

Me: "Well, Andrew, you've proved some very good points here. I think based on this evidence, I have no choice but to retract my statement and confirm that you are indeed NOT part dog."

Then I apologized for hurting his feelings. I explained that it was just a figure of speech and that it was impossible for any human to be part dog.

And thank goodness....he decided to forgive me.

Happy VD

...as in Valentine's Day. What else did you think I meant?

I wanted to post some pictures of the kids I took today. This blog is called "The Silva Family" after all. It's not just "Alecia's Really Important Opinion of The Bachelor." I mean, I really like that name, but I chose to go with the other because ARIOOTB is just way too long.


Amelia - 7.5 months

She's currently rolling around the living room. I put her down and walk away and 2 minutes later, she's across the room - and usually having a little fit because she can't get a hold of some toy she really, really wants. I don't know if it's because she's the 3rd child - therefore feeling the need to be overly obnoxious to make sure her needs get met - or - if she's just really spirited. Make no mistake. If she has a question, concern, comment, consideration or complaint - she makes it known. Quite loudly. But I can't help but kiss her chubby cheeks every chance I get. And she eats it up. The girl loves to be loved on.

Alivia - 3.5 years

Liv is now in preschool - and doing really well. She's learning all sorts of letters, numbers, shapes and making some little girly friends along the way. She had her first "friend from school" birthday party a couple weeks ago. She was so excited - and I guess she had a blast. Being the excellent mother that I am, I was gone in Omaha and Jason had to escort her to the party. He said she loved it. She's become super affectionate in the last couple months - she must tell me that she loves me 100 times a day. It's just so sweet to hear those words in her little mousy voice.

Andrew - 7 years

My little man. He is also doing very well in the first grade. He still writing all sorts of BeeMan books (which I think is adorable) and he's far ahead of the rest of his class academically. I'm not surprised, though. I mean, hello?? He's related to me. He's also super sweet - giving out hugs and compliments left and right. That little guy figured out a long time ago how to butter me up, and it works. I know what he's doing, but I don't care. I just eat up all those sweet words like a fat kid eats a cupcake. However, he's completely over me taking his picture. He's had enough. But I still force him. And look at my stunning results! Doesn't that look just scream "I'm thrilled, Mom! Please, take my picture again. In fact - I think I'd like to become America's next top model!!!"

Oh shut your pie hole. They had a guy on last season. He just dressed like a girl.

Wait a minute....

I don't want Andrew to dress like a girl.

That's not what I meant.

I said shut your PIE HOLE!

XOXO

Bee Man Version 11

Andrew is our little writer. For as long as I can remember - (which clearly doesn't go very far back being that the kid is only 7 years old) - he's been coming at me with stacks of paper asking me if I can staple it together for him....cause he made another book!

Well, earlier in the school year, he created his first character book. Bee Man, he called it. Bee Man is a superhero who saves the day fighting Bee Evil and his "eeee-vill" ways. I have no idea what inspired Andrew to create this character, but he's very much a huge part of Andrew's life right now. He writes book after book, he takes them to school and reads them in front of this class. He plays Bee-Man on the playground with his sidekicks Bee Evan (Andrew's BFF) and Bee Jai-Dee (Andrew's little sweetie). Except Jai-Dee doesn't want to play Bee Man very often because she wants to play with her girly friends. So, usually it's just Andrew and Evan. Which Andrew doesn't like very much at all. But I explained to him that most girls their age want to play with other little girls....and it's usually jump-rope or hopscotch, not pretending to be super heroes flying around trying to avoid "giant spatulas."

I'm rambling.

Just before Christmas, I told Andrew that we could "publish" one of his books, and that is exactly what we did! He did all the writing and illustrations - which crack me up! I just purchased the first copy and it should be here within a week. So, if any of you out there want your very own copy of Andrew's first published book - just click on the button below to purchase it. He will earn a couple $$ for each book sold, which will help him purchase more book making supplies.....and by book making supplies, I mean candy.

Okay, maybe a mix of candy and book making supplies.

Alright, I'm not gonna lie. I told him he has to save all his Bee Man money to buy me a diamond necklace.

That's another lie.

But he would be super stoked if anyone acually bought his book.

You never know? He could end up being the next J.K. Rowling. And this first edition could be worth a bagrillion dollars someday...

Yes, that's a real number.

....yet again, another lie.

Sorry.

For all the lying.

Yeah...I did it. Jealous?

My friend Kathy's latest Writer's Workshop post triggered a memory somewhat similar to the one she described.

Here's a little back history:

When I was a kid, my parents took every July off work. During that month, they would drive all over the state visiting family. The summer I was 15, they finally told me that I didn't have to join them, and they took off on their adventure. Leaving my older brother Clinton, and I alone at the house with strict instructions to follow.

1. No friends in the house. (My dad owned guns. Lots and lots of guns. And he didn't want any of our stupid friends getting a hold of them and using them for target practice. Among other things.)


2. Curfew was at 1o:oopm. Sharp. My parents made it clear they would be calling the house each night to make sure we were both home at that time. What they didn't know is that as soon as I talked to them, I was gone for the rest of the night. Unlike me, my older brother followed the rules. Blech!


3. Absolutely no driving the awesome brown 1982 Subaru station wagon - aka The Sube - they left behind. Well, this rule was specifically for me - I didn't have my license yet, but Clinton did. But he had his own truck, so he wouldn't need to drive The Sube anywhere.

And that car was awesome. It looked like this - but it was brown, with a cow herder on the front and (the best part) it had a CB antenna that actually reached heaven. I'm not kidding. You could just flip that radio on and direct connect with God. It usually went something like this:

Me: "Breaker, breaker - Jehovah Jireh, you gotta copy?"

God: "Jehovah Jireh comin' in loud and proud. What's yer 20 (location)? Bring it on back."

Me: "I'm rolling down the BIR - just checking to see if there are any black n' whites (cops) ahead? C'mon."

God: "Nope, it's lookin' like you've gotta clean shot. Go ahead and drop the hammer all the way to 128th."

Me: "Thank you kindly, Big Wheel. Catch you on the flip-flop. Over and out."

That rig was awesome.

Back to the summer of 1993. I was 15, with a learner's permit, passed driver's ed with flying colors (ha, ha Kathy!) and just waiting to turn 16 in a few months. I got up that first morning my parents were gone and saw the keys to The Sube just chillin' on the hook. I knew in that instant what I was going to do. I was going for a joy ride!

So I called up my friend Trudy and asked her what she wanted to do for the day, cause we had wheels and I was coming to get her. She was down, so I hopped in The Sube and turned on the forbidden rap station, cranked it up as high as it would go (which wasn't very high at all - being that the one speaker was the size of a walnut), rolled down the windows and sailed up the long gravel driveway. I still remember that rush when I turned on to the main street - it was awesome! Trudy lived a good 10 miles from me and we rolled back and forth between our houses, friends houses - wherever we wanted to go all week long. Sweet freedom!!

It was a great week - it gave me a taste of what life was going to be like in a few months when I got my license. But as for that week, I knew the fun couldn't last forever. Right before my parents were due to come home, I rolled The Sube down the long gravel driveway returning from it's final trip out. My older brother was outside and as I got out of the car he says to me:

Clinton: "Um, you know that Dad wrote down the mileage before he left, right?"

Me: ...(gulp)..."What?"

Clinton: ...(grins devilishly)... "Yeah. He did this to me a couple of summers ago when I had my learner's permit. He told me after he got home. Buuuut - unlike you, I got props for NOT driving the car anywhere without a license. You're sooooooo busted."

Oh.

Crap.

Me: "Uhhh......no, I'm not. I will, uh......(thinking).....just.......(more thinking)......(Ah ha! I had it!).....drive the car around the neighborhood in reverse to get the mileage back down."

Clinton stares at me blankly. Then he busts out laughing at me!

Clinton: (still laughing) "Good one, idiot! Go ahead and try that and see how it works for ya."

Me: "It doesn't work? But I thought I saw on Ferris Buellers Day Off......"

At this point my stomach starts turning into knots. I knew, I just KNEW my dad was going to kill me. This was by far the worst thing I'd ever done in my entire life - and now that life was about to be over. I was gonna die. Unless......

Me: "You have to tell Mom & Dad that you drove the car to B-Town to get parts for your truck."

Clinton: (starts laughing even harder) "No, I don't!"

Me: (in a tiny voice) "Please?"

Clinton: "Nope."

Me: (whining) "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeese????"

Clinton: (shaking his head) "Uh-uh."

Me: (demanding) "PLEASE!!!"

One thing I know about my brother, he H-A-T-E-S confrontation/conflict. And I had every intention of taking full advantage of that. I see him start to waiver. I see defeat flicker in his eyes. But he wasn't ready yet.

Clinton: (sighs) "No, you did this to yourself."

It's time to pull out the big guns.

Me: (yelling loudly now) "But Dad is going to kill me. You know that! He's going to do anything and everything to make my life a living hell - and then he's gonna beat the crap outta me. He's gonna BEAT ME! And I'm gonna DIE! And you have the power to stop this. And you're just going to let me DIE??? What did I ever do to you?? PLEASE! DON'T! DO! THIS! TO! ME!"

I can see him squirming. He starts to walk away. But I drop down and grab a hold of his leg. He continues to walk away, dragging me though the gravel. He tries to shake me off, but it's no use. I'm not letting go.

Me: (still yelling. teeth clenched.) "C'MON!!"

He stops and scowls at me. He's pissed. And that also means he's gonna give me what I want.

Clinton: "FINE! But you owe me. BIG!"

Me: "Okay, I'll do whatever you want! Just name it - and it's yours. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I love you!!!"

When my parent's came home, the first thing my dad did was go check the mileage in The Sube. I ran and hid in my room. Waiting.....

Dad: "ALECIA!!!! Get out here, RIGHT NOW!!!"

(gulp)

I saunter out of my room, trying to be all innocent and casual like, but not too casual - because then he might be on to my deceptive ways.

Me: (squeaky voice) "Uh, yeah, Dad?"

Dad (head cocked to the side, his eyes burning into my soul) : "I didn't tell you this, but I wrote down the mileage before I left for our trip. I wanted to test you to see if you'd drive the car. And you put over 100 MILES ON THE CAR WHILE WE WERE GONE!!!"

At this point he's towering over me and his face and big ol' bald head is turning a reddish purple. He's shaking. He's about to lose it. I look down. I can't stand it.

Me: (taking a deep breath) "No, I didn't! I swear it! Clinton was driving the car this week because he was working on his truck and he needed parts from the auto shop. Ask him! I promise!"

And that's exactly what he did. I stood behind my dad while he grilled Clinton about the mileage. I was glaring at Clinton as hard as I could. My eyes were being very clear. They spoke to my brother - they reminded him of the deal we made. They threatened him with conflict should he decide to go back on his word. Lots and lots of loud, obnoxious conflict.

And thank Jehovah Jireh Almighty - he took the blame. And spared my life. He is the reason I am still alive today.

Thank you Bubba!

BTW - I called my dad today to see what year The Sube was, so I could google search a picture of one like it for the blog. Then I told him the truth about what I did all those years ago. He just laughed. A nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

Yet another reason why I love being an adult.