Celebrating Fifty One

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Natasha Nicholes

On Saturday, my mommy turned 51 years old. Yes. 51. She looks great. Since I know that I’m cute, I realize that I will grow to be even cuter, because of this lady.

My dad informed me about a month ago that he was going to have her birthday party at McDonald’s. Yes. You read that right, McDonald’s.

Ladies, and gentlemen, if you’re reading this, you’re probably having the same thoughts that I did. RED ALERT MAN! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG! But my dad (affectionately known as Poppy by the collective) stood firm in his decision to host a 51st birthday party for his wife of 30+ years at McDonald’s. Oh, I tried, and tried to get him to change the venue, but he stood firm. And because I’m a daddy’s girl, I stood firm in my support of him – and dared anyone to say otherwise.

On the day of her birthday party, we found out why.

My parents are empty nesters. They take little date nights here and there, and for lunch one day, they happened to stop in a local McDonald’s that was just built a little ways from our house. It’s “cute” for lack of a word at the moment. It doesn’t have a large dining area because of its location, but had enough for several people to gather. It was in this McDonald’s that my mom informed my dad that she could see herself hosting a birthday gathering there. Like, there. IN a McDonald’s. You know, the place usually reserved for kids who go gaga over the fries and toys in the Happy Meals? A McDonald’s. Full of reds and yellows, and burgers and fries. Yet also full of simplicity, and no atmosphere of NEEDING to impress others. You come, you sit, you eat, you laugh, you go home.

That’s what we accomplished on Saturday. I don’t think that I’ve seen my mom smile this much in a very long time. She was surrounded by friends and family, and the Sherlock Holmes of our family suspected NOTHING! I mean, it’s hard to surprise her. Really, really hard to surprise her.

But to see this look on her face when she walked through the door, was priceless.

Because she had truly been bamboozled. My dad had me create a red herring invitation to give to her stating that she would be going to Weber Grill. This is important, because she has duly noted to all of our household that she doesn’t want to see Weber Grill for a good while (I think it has something to do with my father’s love of it) and my dad REFUSED to go to Famous Dave’s (my mother’s love.) So essentially, the invitation was meant to make her grumble a little bit.

Before heading there, my dad said that he wanted her to come inside so that he could grab something quick to eat. She came in, and that’s the photo that captured her when she saw everyone waiting for her. She was happy, and that made me happy.

Then the hugs started. Lil’ Miss Twizzler had her arms open wide to welcome Mor Mor to her birthday party and begin the festivities.

Sir Twizzler really came for the fries.

My mom and dad. High School Sweethearts. They’ve been through a lot, but they let me know that with God and a GREAT support system, marriage is well worth the rollercoaster ride.

I think that I should get some sort of compensation for all of these promotional McDonald’s shots. I mean, look at the cute kids!

The staff was phenomenal. In the background, you can see the store manager, Debbie holding my mother’s cake. She was a pleasure to work with, and didn’t make us feel like we were a big traveling circus having an adult birthday party in her restaurant.

The ladybug enjoying her McNugget Happy Meal

Mor Mor and the collective Houseful. I would like to direct special attention to the way that Lil Miss is posing. Seriously, who taught her that? My babies are growing up. It makes me a little bit sad.

The cellist had her to himself for an entire 8 years before other grands started showing up. The bond is pretty strong.

NOT FIGHTING!!!

My oldest brother (and let me clear the air, that *I* am the oldest, he’s just the oldest boy) drove all the way in from New Jerey to surprise her. She was super happy.

My sister in law (married to my baby brother) and Mor Mor.

Best friends since high school. This lady is the reason I hate bologna sandwiches. Apparently, she brought my mother one everyday while she was pregnant with me, and that’s all she wrote.

My mom with the most handsome man this side of heaven. I almost had a paparazzi moment here. I mean…oh…my apologies.

My mom and paternal grandmother. Let me just put it out there. Getting this woman to WILLINGLY take a photo AND look STRAIGHT into the camera while SMILING is nothing short of a miracle. She hasn’t liked taking pictures for as long as I’ve known her and this makes me happy.

The cellist, his grandmother, and great-grandmother.

Mor Mor with all but one grandchild. That’s the nephew that can be seen HERE swinging on a tire.

And a photo op that I normally don’t get to have since I’m always behind the camera, my mommy and me.

Last, but not least, the entire clan (minus my baby brother who had to work.) We’re all busy, we’re all adults now (it happened so fast) yet I’m pretty happy to know that we’re solid. There’s nothing fake about this photo, and I can say with great assurance that everyone here has the back of everyone here. Did I lose ya?

Anyhoo, she got loads of gifts, loads of laughs, and loads of hugs from her guests. My daddy did a wonderful job, and I’m proud of him.

There are other photos, but they are of friends and colleagues of my mom and dad, and I don’t feel comfortable putting them on the blog without consent. Also a housekeeping note, this is NOT a sponsored post, and not a post open to criticizing people who happen to like McDonald’s. I’ll be open to the picket lines later. Have a great day!

Full Of Words Wednesdays: Slowing Down

Posted on March 20, 2013 by Natasha Nicholes

Lately, I feel as if my life has been GO, GO, GO! As evidenced by the photo of my planner that I posted on Instagram yesterday. This is just a portion of March and all of the madness that goes with it (see what I did there?) Continue reading →

11 Years and It Still Hurts

Posted on February 25, 2013 by Natasha Nicholes

My brothers may kill me for this photo, but I had to put it up. Just so you know, in order from left to right are me, my sister Jessica, my brother Gabriel, and my brother Daniel.

Today marks 11 years since my sister died. For some reason I’m so torn up this year that I’m kind of scaring myself.

She would be turning 30 this year, come June.

We were supposed to celebrate in a HUGE way.

Now, all I have left to remember her is her memory, and at this moment, for me, that’s not enough.

Facebook doesn’t help much either, because I keep seeing those photos that say some variation of “Like if you have the best sister in the world,” and I would click, except my sister would never see it. She never knew about Facebook anyway. It wasn’t open to other folk outside of Harvard anyway.

I think about all of the things that I enjoy now, that she never knew about. A certain Mr. Bruno Mars. The Matrix movies, and any of the Iron Man/Avengers stuff. It sounds so silly doesn’t it? To be waxing poetic about singers and movies that my sister wasn’t alive to see or hear.
She would have had the same reaction to Whitney Houston’s death as I did. Mostly because we spent HOURS singing songs from The Preacher’s Wife soundtrack and from The Bodyguard.

I keep thinking about how only the cellist got to be with her for any significant amount of time. She has five other nieces and nephews to hug and kiss and spoil. She might have gotten married and given us some people to spoil as well. My children don’t have a maternal aunt. I can’t get over that. My brother’s kids both have an aunt and uncle, but not mine.

I feel cheated. Mostly because everyone else in my family has someone to pair up with. My mom and dad have each other, my brothers have each other, and then there’s me. Left to be weird and try to fill the time that I would initially be on the phone with my little sister with other things. No taking impromptu road trips with my sister. No telling secrets to someone who is bound to me by blood, and the kind of love that doesn’t care how many fights you’ve had, or if you had a big fight. I would have someone to call in the middle of the night and they would answer the phone.

I have friends and cousins who say that they would do this, but let’s be real, the only person who would have said this AND not hated me for calling at two in the morning to talk about my irrational fear of going to the circus with my children the next day because of the clowns is my sister.

There are lots of things that I did in reaction to the death of Jessica.

I joined the navy.

I started talking to Mr. Houseful civilly again. ( we were 21 years old – stop holding your breath)

I started doing things the way that I wanted to do them, when I wanted to do them, because I figured death is final.

Now, I’m here. Blogging away and loving it overall. I have four children, a fantastic husband, and a great life. We aren’t poor, we don’t go hungry, and we get to do awesome things.

But.

The hole that is still in my heart never gets smaller. I find myself trying to hear her voice the way that I remember it in the car the night before she died. We were talking about her boyfriend and how she was going to miss him when she went to boot camp. She also asked me if I thought that I was going to marry Mr. Houseful. The cellist was happily cooing away in his car seat, and life was good.

I feel like I did the day that she died. Mad. Hurt. Confused. Lost. I haven’t attended church at all this month, and I’m not sure that I want to go back any time soon.

I realize that this post is literally a brain vomit, but I felt the need to get this out, otherwise…well.

So, if you all have time today, just say a small prayer for me, please? I’d appreciate it.

It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Posted on November 13, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

Meaning, my house is full of unfinished holiday projects, and the promise of Thanksgiving and Christmas parties on the horizon.

Speaking of which, can you believe that Thanksgiving is NEXT. WEEK?! Like, next Thursday. I haven’t even created my shopping list just yet, only a menu, which, by the way looks and sounds fabulous!

On our menu is:

Turkey
Short Ribs
BBQ Turkey Legs
Baked Chicken Quarters

Candied Yams
Acorn Squash with Garlic Butter Sauce
Greens
Dressing
Brussel Sprouts w/Apples and Bacon
Macaroni & Cheese
Green Beans & Potatoes (maybe green bean casserole)
and Chitterlings (let’s not act crazy about this please, it’s a fave of my son and husband)
Homemade Cranberry Sauce

Pumpkin Pie
Cheesecake
Pound Cake
Red Velvet Cake
Hawaiian Salad

Various drinks

I think that about covers everything. What are you all making for Thanksgiving? It absolutely is my most favorite cooking holiday. EVAH!

I have also been thread deep in sewing orders that I have been blessed to receive.

Two of the HUGE diaper bags (which I’m now thinking about making for myself – without the diapers) and several of the wristlets from my Houseful Of Stitches Etsy shop! I’m so happy that people love my sewing capabilities, but I can honestly say that I can’t wait until I can draft my own patterns! Hopefully next year!

This bag has a lot of components in it that confused many people on the internet. However, I think that I’m weird because I had issues with the easier instructions and not the harder ones with no photos. As a matter of fact, I think that I am indeed weird.

Here are closeups of the process:

Those may or may not be my feet in this photo. For those of you with foot issues like a certain someone that lives with me, I apologize in advance.

The ever problematic cell phone pocket. The darting was fine for me, and my Galaxy SIII fits perfectly in there.

I also made a couple of dresses for some teachers that work at the school that the cellist attends and that’s about it.

I’m LOVING the fact that Christmas music is playing as well, as I cut and sew away. It really helps me get into the mood of giving.

This year, I promised to give handmade to several people and I’m working on those gifts as well. I can’t post them just yet, so I will when I send them off and the holidays come around.

Are you all doing anything special now? Share below!

30 Days of Thanks: My Right To Vote

Posted on November 6, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

You really didn’t think that this day would get away from you and you wouldn’t hear about it, right?

I’m proud to be able to hold this:

While being a being a black woman.

I hope that you exercised your right to vote, no matter who it was for.

And can we change it up this term, and respect WHOMEVER is in office? Pretty please?

30 Days of Thanks: My Children

Posted on November 2, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

In light of all of the craziness that has been happening with children lately, I have to sit back and realize that no matter how nutty my children may drive me on certain days, my life would be such a void without them.

My heart has been broken in two reading and listening to news stories about nannies, and babysitters, and cold-hearted people who have done nothing to protect the innocence of children this week. We could learn so much from the open hearts and minds of children.

Have you ever seen your child interact with others? We have new neighbors moving in soon, and they have a daughter. My ladybug LOVES her. Just absolutely loves her. She loves that there is FINALLY someone on our block that she can play with and another girl at that. When this family was looking at the house, the girls struck up conversation before the adults did. That’s not to say that we were being rude, but there are none of these boundaries with children. No wondering if people like you, or if they are thinking about what type of job you have, or will they think I’m lazy because I’m a SAHM.

My children don’t go to bed when told. As a matter of fact, they stay up for long hours giggling into the night when they are supposed to be sleeping. They put their dirty hands on my sofas, dump out toys on a daily basis, and they never stop eating. Ever. Especially that ladybug.

Some days I wonder how I manage to do it all, and some days I don’t even pretend to manage to do it all. I have moments where I want to crawl back into bed and pretend to be asleep. Some days I do that and let Mr. Houseful handle the house.

Today, though. My spirit is heavy because three mothers will not be able to do that with their children. They won’t hear the laughter. They won’t be able to tell anyone to get back into bed for the last time, they really mean it! They won’t see them graduate from high school, or college, or get married. They won’t see grandchildren. All because someone was selfish.

Americans lack so much compassion as a whole it’s not even funny. Our children will be the future of this country, and they are being taken from us at breakneck speed.

One of these days, I hope that my children are able to see this country become what it should be. Until then, I’m going to thank God daily for them, and pray daily for these three moms who lost their children much too soon.

To me the cellist still looks like this:

And the triad will always be this way, no matter how old they get.

The Chicago Public Schools Strike – Seen By Me

Posted on September 10, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

If you haven’t heard, the Chicago Teacher’s Union is participating in its first strike in 25 years. The dividing line is STRONG. Those who are adamantly FOR the teacher’s and those who aren’t.

I happen to be – for once in my life – right in the middle. As a parent I’m very concerned for the loss of days and the timing of the strike. As a volunteer in the cellists’ school, I KNOW how hard these teachers work, and how much they do with what little they have. As a parent, I wish that this would have been finalized before my child spent an entire month getting acclimated to new teachers, new schedules, new policies. As a volunteer, I know that no time is ever the “right” time.

Today I was serving jury duty (yeah, you read that right, one day AFTER my birthday – joy) and after dismissal, I was let out right into the streets into a sea of red shirts and placards. Many people were chanting and others seemed to be milling around hugging each other in support of the strike.

I felt…weird.

For someone who values education as much as I do, I felt that in all of this political bantering and requesting fair wages and classrooms conducive to learning, our children were STILL losing. While overcrowding and lack of textbooks don’t provide the environment that we need in so many schools across the city of Chicago, the children aren’t learning anything while school is out.

By no means does this mean that I support the Board fully either. I just wish that our children were not stuck in the middle of this. I don’t quite remember the strike of ’87, but I’m sure that it was the same story, different day. My parents had their parents around to help watch us. We were in a safe environment, we were in a neighborhood where everyone watched everyone else. That’s not so today.

And the protesters weren’t without protesters of their own. Several non-union supporters were downtown hurling insults back at the teachers. One particular individual made sure to call every teacher he passed “nothing but scum.” Another decided to hurl expletives at every red shirted individual he passed. This made the situation at hand all the more intense and uncomfortable for me.

I know that this is supposed to make the parents sweat enough to call down to the board of education to plead with CEO Brizard to settle on the contract that the CTU has set forth. Our children are out of school and we NEED them back in those seats. We’re falling behind so many other cities when we have the second largest school district in the NATION. It’s not right.

Now we have to sit and wait. Except in this Houseful, the cellist will be starting his own homeschool curriculum and hopefully, this mama can do him some sort of justice.

I happened to take a couple of photos of the signs that some of the teachers were carrying. I would love to hear your thoughts below.

Hopefully an agreement is reached soon. Hopefully.

Get OFF Of My Ovaries!!!

Posted on July 18, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

It is with great regret and frustration, that I bring you this blog post.

While reading the Facebook Fan Page of one of my fellow mama’s she posted a status about a run in that she had with someone commenting on how “full” her hands were with her – wait for it – THREE CHILDREN.

The day before she posted, I happened to post a status message wondering about the fairy world that I live in. One where parents of children with less than desirable conduct, commenting on how many I have. And believe me – I figure if your children are PURPOSELY disrespectful and rambunctious, there is definitely something you can do about it.

There are a lot of things that I have learned since having children. How to break up sibling fights that are about to start from a simple eye glare across the room. How to cook dinner with one child hanging on my leg, and another in the crook of my elbow. How to help with homework, when the child that you are helping doesn’t really even want to do homework in general.

What I can NOT for the life of me figure out, or accept, is how open people are with how many or few children they think that I should have.

WOMP

For a little background. Mr. Houseful and I had the cellist when we were 20 years old. Juniors in college and not as in love as we thought we would be at the time. We got LOTS of unsolicited advice about how we should have “known better,” and how I should DEFINITELY make sure to keep my skirt down and legs closed so that I could at least seem semi attractive to a future suitor.

Barf.

Fast forward seven years after the birth of the cellist and we’re living in wedded bliss and we get pregnant with the ladybug. Now, I WON’T tell you how many people asked me if I was pregnant when I walked down the aisle, or how many people commented on how fast we got pregnant right after marriage, or even how many people commented on the age difference between the cellist and the ladybug. I won’t.

You’re welcome.

Then there was that time in 2009 where I got pregnant when the ladybug was only 8 months old, we were dealing with some cardiology issues with her, and I lost the baby. One person offered me this sage advice: Well, you have two already. Maybe you all shouldn’t be trying for another one so soon after having the ladybug. Interesting. Maybe you should wear a muzzle whenever you go out into public.

Then we go away to a marriage retreat, and get pregnant with the twizzlers. I stayed pretty quiet about the fact that I was pregnant with TWO babies for a while. Mostly because I was scared that I would miscarry again. I got all types of comments here as well. You all are pregnant AGAIN?! Don’t you watch television?! After this one, you should stop.

Imagine the irritation when the news that I was having TWINS came out. There was waitress at a Joe’s Crab Shack in Houston who actually APOLOGIZED to me for having twins. As if having two babies at one time is something to feel sorry about.

On the opposite side of that, are those people who feel that they should make you feel bad for your lack of children. Not knowing if some of those people who they are chiding about not having any pattering feet in their houses are trying with all of their might, and possibly money TO have a baby, and the “well-meaning” person is doing nothing but rubbing salt in the very open wound of the recipient. Imagine how many times you’ve asked someone about when they are going to finally have a baby, and they’ve actually been trying? I know that I am indeed guilty of this HUGE faux pas, and I’m sorry to everyone that I have ever done this to.

Sometimes, going through something makes you more empathetic to a situation. Other times, it’s knowing that one of your close friends may be dealing with their desires not being fulfilled immediately.

Which then leads me to say – NEVER is it okay to approach someone and comment on how many children or lack of children they have. NEVER. Those who have more than what you think they should are pretty aware of the amount. I mean, THEY have them.

I am going to start answering every “OMG, you have FOUR children?!” with “WHERE?!?!?!”

It’s even more frustrating to me, when other mother’s do this. Especially mother’s with THREE children. Honestly, you have ONE less child than I do, and you want to split hairs here? Let’s not.

While I know that the amount of capitalized words are many, I want you to know that this is honestly a PSA of sorts. I’m really trying to save you from approaching that mother who may have missed her morning cup of coffee, or had that child who may have thrown up all of the Cheerios in the back seat of the car. That mom who is just trying to figure out what she is going to make for dinner tonight. Who needs to figure out how to get one of her children to practice that she loves, and the other to a sporting event that he loves. The mom that loves being a parent, but may be short on patience with adults.

You don’t ever mess with a mama bear and expect not to come back a least a little scared.

Having children is a blessing. Unless you know that families’ financial situation, don’t go throwing around the “but I pay taxes and therefore pay for their children,” argument either. It’s just not nice.

And with that, dear HoNey’s, I bid you adieu, as I go and snuggle with MY Houseful.

Back In The Day When I Was Young

Posted on July 9, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

I’m not a kid anymore,

But some days, I sit and wish I was a kid again

This weekend, I was able to sit and really read a little item that my bestest friend in the world sent me last week, called a Circle Journey book. Before letting you see it, I want to explain how when we were younger, we weren’t allowed to go over each others houses. Our parents liked us, but they didn’t like the city that we lived in, or the odds of a little black girl, or a little Filipino girl traveling all by themselves together in it. Mind you, we took public transportation to school, or walked every morning. It’s odd how when I was little I thought that they were crazy, but now looking at my 12-year-old son, I realize that they weren’t, but their love for us just made them more protective. Even if it did seem stifling and unnecessary.

In Chicago this summer there have been well over 30 shootings in one week. A lot of the wounded are children. Babies even, and it’s so darn ridiculous. It’s a shame that a young girl who was selling lemonade in front of HER house, was shot in the back trying to preserve her life one more day, and ended up losing it.

I long for the days of where I could sit outside and not worry about danger. And don’t give me well you DO live in Chicago, and you DO live on “blah, blah” side of it, because if they aren’t shooting on one side, they’re breaking into houses. And if they aren’t breaking into houses, they are running behind people on the lakefront to slice their throats, and if they’re not doing that, they’re attacking young women and assaulting them. It’s south, west, and north. It’s ugly.

That’s why I wouldn’t mind going back to my childhood, where my best friend and I used to clog the postal system (which is probably why karma is biting me in the butt with them) with our lengthy letters that only went across town. Where I remember postage stamps being 25 cents, then 27, then 29! It was getting expensive for us to keep in touch then. We would stay on the phone for hours and then sit down and eagerly transcribe what happened during our day as if we just didn’t talk about it.

That’s why, when she unearthed a book that I purchased shortly after the cellist was born called a Circle Journey book, I got a little bit sad. I realize that I was a better friend then, than I am now. I’m so focused on my tribe here, that I don’t really have time to sit and talk to her like I want. With her having a new addition as well, a couple of months before I had the twizzlers, I am sure that her life is a little bit different as well. Hee hee.

This is what we’ve used to write back and forth to each other – well, with a nine year time lapse – but it’s a great little invention, and I wish that they were still in production, because I would truly buy more.

I did a bit of internet scouring, and I found out that the creator of these stopped production a couple of years ago due to people not really writing each other much anymore. Sad. What’s sadder is I added to that growing number of non-writers.

So my plan is to either find another of these for sale somewhere, or create my own little rendition of it as soon as we complete this book that we’re working on now.

It’s weird to think about the fact that I have known my best friend longer than I’ve known my husband. Mostly because he and I met during eighth grade, and I knew her four years before that. Time flies when there are good people in your life.

So – do you have a best friend? Do you all still write each other snail mail? Did I totally throw you for a loop talking about the violence in Chicago and doing a segue into letter writing? I know, I know. I’m all types of interesting.

When I Say JUMP You Say…

Posted on June 1, 2012 by Natasha Nicholes

One thing that I told Mr. Houseful the other day, is that I would love to keep the feel of this blog as pure as it was when I first started it. I mean, I realize that I shouldn’t be getting pregnant with twins again anytime soon (don’t you all DARE start with me) I do realize that I’m surrounded by the best fodder for blog posting, and I am blessed enough to share it with you all. I’m also blessed that you all come and read here on a regular basis as well. So, here’s the lowdown, I decided to sign up for a blogger challenge through Blog Her that would help me get back to my creative side, or the one where I’m not always doing a post that’s a review or something like that.

This month’s theme is JUMP and today’s prompt is “What is the first thing that pops into your mind when you hear the word jump?”

There are so many things that I can think of to answer this question. I jumped into motherhood, I jumped into the military, and I jumped into being a parent volunteer at the school that the cellist attends. Literally. However, the one thing that I know that I have really jumped into without fear holding me back – notice I didn’t say without being afraid, because I was and still am – is the life of a full-time blogger. I changed my thought process about this entire blogging life, and decided that if there was a possibility that I could still talk about all the things that I wanted to talk about, and make our life a little better financial wise, then I would do it, and I’ve done it.

There are a lot of people who consider my blogging a hobby – and it most certainly was for the first year or so, and then I started making friends with people who had the same fervor with blogging and social media as I do. I’m still a newbie, and I don’t have all the answers, but I can say without a doubt, that I LOVE what I do. It’s hard, it’s sometimes exhausting, but it’s the ONLY job that I’ve had where I didn’t want to give up when it got difficult. I’m also jumping each day to give myself the ability to have fun with something that I consider work, and to also try new things, because I finally have a chance to do so.

Basically, what I’m trying to tell you is that jumping into something is not always so bad. I jumped into getting to know my husband 18 years ago. I’m sure that at 13 years of age, my parents rolled their eyes hard at my Shakespearean profession of love towards Mr. Houseful, but look where it got me. Married to the hunkiest man ever, and four of the best children anyone could ask for, especially when they are bringing me the remote and telling me how much they love me. They’re great!

So, be sure to tune in every week, Monday through Friday to see me deal with the theme jump – and even for some other goodies every now and again.

I’m even jumping into conference travel with National Box Tops University coming up and then Type A Parent Conference towards the end of the month, and of COURSE I’ll blog about it!

Until then

~Make It A Fantastic Day

Houseful Of Nicholes

Category Archives: Reflections