Seriously...Do I show signs of Schizophrenia?

Dizzy.......that pretty well sums up my entire night and morning. I didn't sleep at all for tossing and turning because I think someone slipped my mind some crystal meth or something........at any rate, my mind has ran rapid for about 14 hours now, uh.....let me explain:

I'll me completely comfortable with life, OK with who I am and where I am at...........and then out of nowhere, a semi smacks me from behind, and a head shot at that. What I mean by comfortable would be tolerable with myself in the moment and content with dealing with everyday life's problems. Then in an instant, I am sooooooo not. It's really hard to explain but in these times, I start reflecting on all the things I have done...the different cloaks I have worn, the different places I have been in time....and all these thoughts rush me at once, feeling like a rabid bumble bee zipping around in my head. Kinda like I am this today, and that tomorrow....not literally, but you get the picture.....No? Yes?

Well, that be the case today......my mind jumping from this time in the past to that time in the past, with a thousand thoughts and memories streaming simultaneously. It'll drive you mad I tell ya! I usually talk excessively when this is occurring, in hopes to sidetrack my thought process, (bless my neighboring co-worker) but today I noticed  while all this mental activity is going on, I very seldom have visions of the future....I contemplate what my purpose is and what it should be, but not what I am going to be.....dunno, kinda crazy I guess......but maybe this is a breaking point with me.....No? Yes?

However, there has been one shining moment in my mental breakdown today. I had to present some improvement activities to one of our Large and in Charge customers today, one we ALL know...and after I finished (yeah, they were impressed with my progress), open discussion and conversation took place. Not having a clue with what I was dealing with today (thank goodness, they would shit can me on the spot), this VIP visitor made this statement: "You must change to survive. You should re-invent yourself every 6 months, if possible, or you will die. The longer you do something, the better you become...not because you learn to do it better, but because over time you change the way you do things, to do them in a better way"

I know that he was relating to work and the automotive industry.....but I think it can relate to me today. It gave some much needed clarity for today anyway.......and hopefully I will be back to "somewhat sane" tomorrow. No? Yes?

Beating the Bank

Today will be my youngest son's last first day of high school and with it, brings me many emotions. After 20 years of raising some of the roughest and rowdiest hellins' on the face of the earth....my days of rearing boys are almost over. Some of the many thoughts racing through my mind are as follows:

1. My God, am I really that old?
2. What am I going to do with all my Friday nights after this football season?
3. I am forever grateful that I lived through this, damn glad it's almost over!
4. No, No I am not glad....I'm sad, is this what empty nest syndrome feels like?
5. Maybe I can provide more for Carston with her being the only one at home...
6. Was I a good enough mom? What mistakes did I make, so as not to make them with Carston.
7. Fuck! Really? Christian will start college next year....Cartson will start kindergarten....Unbelievable!
8. I'll be 50 years old when Carston graduates high school....hope I am still alive..
9. This year is gonna cost me out the ass!
10. Why have they made it so hard to beat the bank! Assholes!

Let me elaborate on #10. Ya see.....I am so damn broke right now that I can't even pay attention! As some of you may know, my oldest hellin' has gotten himself into quite a pickle....the pickle jar is about 1/2 full as a matter of fact.....and being the mother that I am, I have made many choices in the last year that has put a financial strain on my family. (Note to all you people that say, "If my kid gets into trouble, they know not to call me...they are on their own....you get yourself into it, you get yourself out".....yeah, you people kiss my ass. I've said all that, but when the call comes in, I go a running! Much easier said than done).

Only till you have become broke out your ass, do you really start becoming truly creative.....this was the case this past week. Living pay check to pay check, with every dime spent before you get it, leaves very little money for extras. Extras include School Clothes, Letterman's Jacket, Class Ring, Football Pics, Senior Pics, Year Book, you get the idea.........so I got creative, and pulled the ole beat the bank trick out my "Rob Peter to Pay Paul" bag. My genius plan was to go out of town (Bowling Green), buy enough school clothes to get the boy by till payday.......write a check for it! Brilliant Right? It would take at least 4 or 5 days for the check to make it my bank and by then I got money in the bank! No harm, no foul.....after all, it's my God given right to spend my money before I get if I want to! Right? Not anymore...........

I hit Hollister first since they are having a huge sale. (Cargo short-$19.99 & Polo's-$15.00) I was really impressed with how quickly I had chosen my items and made it to the cash register....my husband waiting outside the store with my 4 year old daughter would be proud of me. The little anorexic girl rings my up and says, "that will be $96.80 please"....already seeing my checkbook in hand she says, "I'll need to see your Driver's Licence". I began writing the check and she said, "you don't have to fill that out, our machine prints it". Cool.....I sign the check and hand it to her.....she pushes some buttons, zips the check through the little machine thingy, takes it out of the little machine thingy, and hands me the check back. "What are you doing?", I ask. She replied, "Oh, we electronically deduct checks here, so we don't have to keep the check, you get it back".............my thoughts at this time? Fuck me running backwards wearing flip flops! You mean a person can't even write a cold check anymore? What has this world come to?

So, I started my day shitty cause I know the purchase last night is only going to start a domino reaction of insufficient fees. I felt like ten kinds of shit because I should have not allowed myself to get into this situation. However, I did have a inkling of hope left in me because I had to be in court at 9am this morning with the promise of my oldest son's release from his vacation at the Allen Co Detention Center......but that winded up sucking donkey and he still remains in jail under a $10,000 cash bond.

Lesson learned you ask? Of course....I have learned that money & friends are very similar. You don't need either, but life sure does suck without em'. Luckily, I have one of the two....Friends. In the mist of shitty shitty bang bang day....Peanut Butter aka Mitch, sent me the silliest email ever....a picture of him sticking his tongue out at me! How random & juvenile it was! Just what I needed....I almost pissed my pants.......thanx buddy!

And to all your people out there that think I am morally a bad person for trying to pass off a cold check & beat the bank......yeah, you there, oh... and you there in the back row....kiss my Cracker Queen ass!

French's Assault

OK, OK, I know I have not blogged in a while.......but trust me, my temperament and mind set lately has not allowed it. I have been sick, tired, depressed, cranky, and above all....in a very doubtful state of mind the last couple of weeks. However, I am the Demon Slayer....so here we go~

Last Monday afternoon, while at work, I began feeling really crappy. I had been teasing with a co-worker about taking a "Tucker" day, which is what we have deemed at work, one of those unnecessary missed work days (a whole 'nother story)....little did I know that karma didn't have a sense of humor and I was actually going to get sick. None the less, I called in Tuesday.....moved from the bed to the couch on Wednesday, went to the Doctor on Thursday, and was starting to function a little on Friday. Saturday rolled around and I thought I was pretty much over it, but as I began to stir more...I realized I wasn't, which all leads up to ME being the only sober person at my sister-in-law's birthday party....

I have been married to my husband for 20 years this past Monday.......I have been in his family long enough now, not to be considered an In-Law. I am just another daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, and aunt.....so, we are all very close. Closer than my actual family as a matter of fact. We all grew up together and to this day, we stick together.......and we party together!

It's kind of turned into a tradition. On any of the adult "Kids" birthdays, (what we call each other) we organize a small gathering and drink, cut-up, laugh, dance, and reminisce. This usually takes place in the county at my sister-in-law's house because she lives in the country and the Po Po doesn't bother you there....they might occasionally come out and tell us to turn down the radio or complain about a report of a streaker, but usually that's the jest of it. This past Saturday night was carried in true tradition......

The party was supposed to start at 6 or 7pm....noting that when that time is conveyed, people usually don't start showing up till 8 or 9pm. Well at 6pm there was already ten or more people there, and by 9pm there was upwards of fifty.....four of which we did not know. They had heard from a friend of a friend of a friend about the party, and thought they were come out, set up their equipment and entertain us...Great! A band! After all, the more the merrier right? Not so much...... They began unpacking their 1987 wagon, and at first everything looked normal, but after about 30 minutes......I realized they had unloaded about 10 home stereos and hooked them all together with numerous "spliced and diced" cords. No instruments, no microphone....only a couple of yard sale radios, some duck taped together with magic marker decoration, and empty dixie cups, (which they were expecting to fill up from our keg). I, being sober, laughed and watched in awe as numerous people from the crowd yelled out request.....I thought to myself, it doesn't get any more redneck than this....CLASSIC........and that's when I learned the true definition of "shit faced".....

A member of the "band" was down! Don't worry, she didn't faint from all the applause....she just passed out. Evidently our party had not been their first party of the evening, and she was unsure of her surroundings when she got there......60 minutes in, she was out.....which leads to our next tradition.....Don't be the first to Pass Out......because the first weenie that passes out is subject to shaving cream, finger nail polish, sharpie, or whatever else is accessible. On this given night, it would be French's Mustard....

I was not the culprit this time, it was my sister-in-law. She had noticed the passed out woman and was on a mission. After retrieving the mustard from the fridge, she rushed to the victim and continued to empty the contents of the little yellow plastic bottle onto her face until it was empty. OK! I realize it was wrong, and maybe I did have a responsibility to stop her since I was the only sober person there.....but HEY, I had awaken with toddler shorts on and a missing bridge before, and it was someone else's turn....Plus, it was hilarious and that's the price you pay for crashing a stranger's party and drinking their beer....they proved to be entertaining after all!

The real drama came the next day. Living in a small town has it's disadvantages......one being, everybody knows everybody, and the mustard victim had indeed found out where my mother-in-law lived and "a came" knocking on her door Sunday afternoon. When my mother-in-law answered the door, the semi-yellow victim proceeded to explain to her that some girl named Amy had assaulted her the night before at a party....that she had recently had a bad car wreck that had resulted in a titanium eye socket (really?) and that the mustard had caused a chemical reaction to the metal and had caused her great pain, (not the fall to the ground from over intoxication).....that the attack with mustard was considered assault and she was going to pursue charges against me! My mother-in-law insisted that she leave her property, go directly to the sheriffs’ department, and share her story....that it would be a great write-up for the paper, and to wash the mustard out of her hair when she got done....

    I am innocent, yet I have been hiding from the Po Po all week..........question is, who is going to bail me out when my time runs out?

Drive a Little...Save a Ghetto

I hate Monday's...I mean really I do! It's the first day back to work from a much needed weekend. Usually Mondays are loaded down with paperwork, meetings, and anticipation to get it over with and get home. The only thing that can make Mondays worse than they already are is a lazy weekend....which only adds to an already stressful and ample day. This was my Monday this week....

I was soooo lazy this past weekend. My daughter was sick, and of course...when she is sick, she becomes an even more so "Mommy Tick". Otherwise, she is stuck to me like a fat tick on a dog. I am by no means complaining...I love being there for her, and really do enjoy just lounging around with her, but there is one downfall to laying around in your jammies watching Spongebob all day on Sunday...no housework or errands get done....making this past Monday a very busy, eventful day!

On the drive home from work, my mind was racing with all the shit  stuff  I had to do when I got home. Wash clothes, wash dishes, mop the floors, cook supper, go to the grocery, bath the rug rat...& on & on. After the 20 minute ride, I pretty much had a game plan on how to get all this accomplished in one afternoon. I, my friend, was on a mission when I walked into the door....

Start a load of clothes - check
Start supper - check
Wash clothes - check
Feed the Family - check
Mop the Floors - check
Grocery ...... uuuummm, "RAIINNNYYY!! You want to go to the grocery store with Momma?" It's not that I particularly enjoy sneaking stuff out of the buggy that she snuck in, while she's not looking...but I figured if she went with me, then my floors might actually dry without little feet prints all over it.

I normally go to Food Lion to grocery shop. It is one of three choices in Scottsville. 1)Houchens-too high, 2)Food Lion-still too high but offers MVP/Discount cards & is much cleaner than it's competitors, 3)Save A Lot-about as dirty as it is cheap. Unfortunately, Save A Lot is located nearest to my house & I was in a hurry....so Save A Lot it was.

The only upside to my choice of stores was, we fit the bill...I looked like death warmed over & Carston looked like her head had not been combed in a month....so we blended in well with the environment. Our shopping experience didn’t last too long because I mainly only shopped for canned goods & some frozen items. Lord knows, I wasn't about to buy any meat or produce there. I didn't really notice anyone else shopping while we were there...it was pretty vacant, until we were at the register... that's when I learned I was much more grown and mature than I once was......

A young girl was ringing us up and Carston had handed her some candy in the middle of swiping my grocery items. Upon handing the candy back to Carston, the young girl commented on how polite Carston was for saying please and thank you without being prompted. (It shocked me as well)....when all of a sudden "SHE" strolled up, talking screaming on a cell phone in foreign tongue....OMG!

I have seen alot of different characters in my day, even strive on the fact that I am can fit in with most crowds & clicks...a chameleon so to speak, but I had never seen this before! This is when I learned what a "white-wanna-be-a Mexican-lady" was. I mean, I didn't even know they existed. She had her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail...greased back, and intentionally speaking, in a very boisterous voice, Spanish into a dinosaurs cell phone. Man she was chicken necking, gringo this, pinche that...when all of a sudden, she paused....rolled back her eyes....and in English, with a Spanish accent of course, said into the phone....."Ewww, all dez white peoplez be starin at me just cuz i be taukin in spannnnishh.....Ewww, I hate me summ white peoplez".....

I know my face lit up 10 shades of red....I looked at the young cashier and sure enough, she had the WTF look on her face too. I turned toward this lady, and the words were on the tip of my tongue... "The reason people are staring at you is because you are screaming on the phone making an ass of yourself, not because you are speaking Spanish you dumb bitch!".  Just as I was about to say it, Carston pulled on my arm...."Mommy, can I have some quarters for the machine(gumball)...I want a toy". Thank God she was with me, or I am sure one of two things would have happened.... 1) I would have whipped her ass and went to jail, or 2)She would of whipped my ass and I would have went to jail, either way I would have went to jail and my ice cream would have melted.....

Where Do Big Toes Live?

I know there as been some questions raised about this blog title, and after eliminating some other distractions.....I guess I do owe an explanation.


The most common definition for the term Big Toe is as follows.... –noun :the first, innermost, largest digit of the foot, origin: 1885–90. I think we can all pretty much agree on this one, right? Not so much....I, after a revelating conversation with my daughter, found out that "Big Toe" is much bigger than that....MUCH, MUCH BIGGER!

A couple of weeks ago we were traveling back to Scottsville, from Franklin, after attending a Relay for Life committee meeting. I was chatting it up with my husband about the scheduling of the upcoming event's activities, which I was responsible for....and spazzing out about it because I have procrastinated every damn thing like I usually do. We are in his little Mazda pick up, barely big enough to fart in, with our daughter placed in the middle. (with a seat belt on of course! I am not that redneck) During the middle of my ranting and raving, and his head nodding (what he does when he is really not listening but he wants me to think he is)....my daughter looks up at me and ask...."Momma, are big toes real?"

Seeing the anxiousness for an answer in her eyes, I quickly answered..."Well, of course they are silly bear!". This is when I learned what "Shit your pants" meant. It was visibly obvious that she was immediately overcome with fear......"WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE DO THEY LIVE? WHERE DO THEY LIVE?" she began to tearfully belt out. I wasn't too sure what to do, how to respond...was this behavior provoked by another playful, yet silly, SpongeBob skit? I tried to unwrap her from my left arm, and started asking more questions..."Why are you so scared, Why are you crying, What do think is a Big Toe?" ......BINGO boys......I got it! After a few simple questions, I figured it out.......Big Toes = Bigfoot!

I reassured her that big toe/Bigfoot was not real, and that it was only story that someone made up to make their kids go to bed at night. I explained to her how silly the notion was, and educated her that when children do not go to sleep at bedtime, Bigfoot had nothing to do with it......that was the Sandman's territory. (She was still fighting sleep at 2:am that morning) Simmer! I was just teasing about the Sandman part, however I DO have a story to share about that....the Sandman that is.....but that is for another day.

 I am not quite sure how she even heard about Bigfoot, but after some reflection...I completely understand her association! Makes sense to me because I too, usually only catch 1/2 of a phrase or story, and have a tendency to fill in the rest. I guess she is truly her mother's daughter..............

I wonder what a Big Toe Monster would look like anyway?Send me your Big Toe Monster pics!

Prelude to One Hell of a Birthing Experience!

Seeing how I am dealing with my bitterness about Cody a little better today, I will elaborate on my first post......

I feel like I need to explain myself a tad bit concerning my state of mind during the whole "I'm Pregnant for the 5th Time" situation. Before you start judging (remember, I hate judgmental morons) my choice of words, you should know that my particular way of thinking during that time was strongly influenced by a deep dark depression...Yes People....I have demons, not in a figurative sense either.....real, larger than life, heated breath, demonic beings that like to fuck with me from time to time. Crazy huh? Well, that best describes my constant struggle with depression and self worthiness. Don't get this twisted, I have learned many strategies over the years to become victorious over these battles......but during the "Prego" era of time...I was as weak as a newborn colt trying to walk, and had allowed the demons to capture me.....Long story short, I adore my children...always have & always will....I'm not perfect....I have had my share of mental struggles....and most of you have too....I have just chose to confess mine.....if that's not your bag of lipton sweet tea....then shove it up your ass and drink it all by yourself........now, for the rest of my story:


She? She? Did he just say She? Oh my God, this baby is the real thing....Oh my God, this only confirms that I am a horrible person for feeling this was! These were my thoughts for several days, torturous days filled with tears and self loathing. I can't explain what provoked it but some how I had a epiphany, so to speak. A rushing feeling of strength, determination, and understanding. A "Not only can I do this, but I can do it well" sort of moment. In brief, I knew she was a gift. A sobering gift that would provide the back bone to snap out of it...what did I do? Well......I went shopping of course!

I didn't know how to deal with the news of a daughter. Bows, dresses, black patent leather shoes, pink satin blankets...all would be a must. I bought everything in a 50 miles radius and ebay. Some people thought I was setting myself up for disappointment because of the ominous potential for complications, but I knew...I mean I really knew deep down in my heart that she would make it...and I would too. I became so excited over the following months, waiting for her arrival so I could show her how much I loved her....touch her, smell her, hold her near to my body so all my love for could be felt. Everything was ready....everything! Baby room, hospital bag, everything... Ready for everything except for what happened the night of December 7th, 2005. There was no way in hell any of us was ready for that....

I slept on the couch in the living room most of the time because it was my only getaway from the bed,(the only two options when your confined to bed rest) plus it was a little closer to the restroom that I made numerous trips to frequently. When on this said night, I woke up around 11:30pm and couldn't sleep. The TV was already on and the movie "Cocktail" was playing, this is when I realized that although I had seen it many times, I had never watched the whole thing from beginning to end....and I wasn't going to tonight either, because 1)It had started before I woke up & 2)I have to pee. I rolled over to my side, propped my fat ass up with my hands, and forced myself to my feet and began waddling to the bathroom....yeah, half way down the hall I realized I was in some serious trouble. I was having a baby without the warning signs of labor........fuck me, it's time!

I called my husband at work....oh 5 or 10 mins away......and said only four words to him when he answered..."Don't Waste No Time!" He didn't either, 3-4 minutes later he is in the living room screaming "Get in the Car, Get in the Car! Hurry up boys....Get in the Car....Amy! Why are you not in the damn car yet?" I replied.."I trying to hold this baby in damn it! I am sorry I am not fast enough for your liking!" ......I get in the front passenger seat of this little ass Honda Civic and the boys jump in the back seat, and Mario Andriette jumps behind the wheel. Backing into our turn about in the driveway, I look over at him and say....Honey, call the hospital and tell them to have every thing ready, this is going to be very close! Step on it and drive as fast as you can!" Turning right out of the driveway onto 31W, I looked at him and said..."hang up the phone and call 911, an ambulance is going to have to meet us half way. We are not going to make it that far" Ok..this is when I learned the true definition of Ape Shit. He was explaining to the 911 operator that we were in route to the hospital, what kind of car we were in, and that I was pushing as they spoke....and then the golden question was asked..."Where is you wife sir?"....he calmly replied...."Where so you think she is? She is on the hood of the car".....Not knowing what she had asked him, I had only heard his reply...."What the hell is wrong with you?". It only got worse....while passing the Ottokumpu plant in Franklin, I decided one more push was gonna do it.....I buried my chin in my chest, grabbed the "Oh Hell Handle" above the window, and give it all I had. My husband up until this point was jumping from operator to me in conversation...telling me "No, No, No" with every push.....he went silent for about 30 seconds, then starting screaming into the phone..."OH MY GOD! SHE HAS HAD THE BABY! WHAT DO I DO?"..... The 911 operator advised him to keep traveling at a high rate of speed until he saw the flashing lights of the ambulance, then exit to the side of the road....... I however had other plans,after all I had a baby in my pants! I asked him to pull the car over........ that I needed to get to the baby(I know, Redneck shit right?). He only continued to cry aloud into the cell phone that was pasted between his ear and shoulder.....driving with one hand......praising the Lord with the other....praying "In Jesus' name - Help us".....

I reiterated to him that Jesus wasn't going to take off my pants and to pull the damn car over......

He didn't....
He did see flashing lights....
Finally...
Help was there....
Someone that knows what to do.......

Or Did They? That is a story for another day..........

Let's Shift Gears

OK.....I had planned on redeeming myself of any ill feelings from the previous post by sharing my miracle delivery, as well as explaining how Rainy is a savior in my life and how much I love her.........ummmmm, not so much.....that story is for a later day.

ATTENTION PEOPLE OF THE COMMONWEALTH! HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?!


This message is being brought to you for the common good of mankind. Look at this picture.....NO! REALLY LOOK! Does he make you uncomfortable? Is this is what our society consist of now? Where was his parents in his life? What kind of monster is he? The answers to all your questions will now be revealed........

Personal Appearance:
Full Chest Tattoo: Two Sparrows holding a banner displaying "Wilson" back dropped by the living life & the dead world = His deceased grandfather, that experienced a beginning and an end...born into this world and then left this world. In the middle of that life (nearer to the end) changed many peoples lives and showed him nothing but unconditional love.
Star on Lower Stomach: He always felt like a star in his Fat Papa eyes.
Pearl Handled Pistol & Hibiscus Flower on Right Side/Ribs: This one is for his Mom & Dad. This one really needs no explanation.
A Pink Diamond on Top Left Rib: This is for his little sister Carston, a very valuable diamond in his life.
Winnie the Pooh Running with a Honey Jar Being Chased by Hornets: A childhood memory of his youngest brother Christian, a altercation with a hornet's nest after being dared by his two older brothers to investigate their hive with a dip net. After being stung multiple times, the only words he could tearfully muster was "Like on Winnie the Pooh!"
Two Brass Bullets on Inside of Ankle: This one is for Colton, his younger brother by 11 months. Stemming from an incident where a drunken man pulled a knife on his father without his father's knowledge. Colton spotted the knife, pushed his father to the ground, sprinted towards the 6'2" 300lb man and knocked him out with one punch. Colton was only 14....Brass Bullets!
A Mickey D's Stick man Throwing Away Trash on Upper Right Buttock: He has a sense of humor (this man can't be trusted people).
A Self Tattooed Stick man on Upper Right Thigh encased by Professional Picture Frame Tattoo: His is an artist in his own mind.
A Distorted Left Pupil: From a farming accident at work where a nail penetrated his eye. He remained at work the rest of the day so his PaPa didn't have to work alone, resulted in vision lose and several surgery's.

Last Known Residence:
We can not disclose this information but he did reside in the home he paid for, endangering others by exploring his love for cooking. His spice combinations can be deadly. Important Reminder - he very rarely socializes because he works 10-12 hrs a day plus goes to school. Do Not Walk by his home...There is a child molester two blocks away around the corner, your chances are better there because Cody's Chicken Curry is deadly. (Thank God he just got accepted to AI Cooking School in Nashville, before he kills someone)

Last known appearance:
Your looking at it....Allen County Scottsville Jail.....over four months....for hitting a young man carrying a firearm.... twice in the face, after asking him to leave his home several times. If you see him, ask him why he has never done drugs. If you see him, ask him why he has never smoked. If you see him, ask him why he chose to protect his home and the people in it. On second thought.......strike everything you just read...... if you see him.....

Tell him his Mother loves him very much and misses him terribly. If you see him, tell him his Mom dreamed about him last night like every night. Tell him she will not give up on him....AND SHE IS DAMN PROUD OF HIM!!!

Do I really owe you an explanation?

Ok, ok.......I guess I should quickly explain the title of the blog, but I kind of like the idea that someone may think I have some weird, perverse fetish that I have managed to closet for years. (Probably more interesting than the truth) Any who, the sole defining reason for the title is......Carston Rayne, A.K.A. Rainy.

Carston is my 4 year old daughter, my "don't give up... ball check" reason for probably still being here. Just when I thought life had completely devoured me, I got the news. It went something like this..."Mrs. Payne, I have good news & bad news. Good news is there is no evidence that your cancer has come back. Bad news is....(dramatic pause)....your pregnant. I will schedule you an appointment with a specialist in Vanderbilt, but this is not going to be easy". I swear y'all, I shit my pants right there in the Dr's office. I was devastated! OH Hell No, I don't want anymore kids! What kind of sick joke is this! I don't want this kid! I hope I miscarry! This only confirms God hates me! Yes, these were the awful things that were floating in my mind on the drive back to Franklin....horrible but true.

I walked in the house, squalling like a beaten step child, and my husband assumed the worst. He looked at me and asked, "Cancer again?" I replied, "I fucking wish!" After explaining to him that somehow I had a bun in the microwave because the oven was broken, he was ecstatic! That's the moment I realized I married a complete moron! I mean really, had he lost his mind? My youngest son was 13, which meant no more babysitters, more freedom, finally time for Mommy. Not to mention that my last pregnancy was a molar pregnancy...(yeah, look it up! It wasn't pretty y'all!)...where I lost the baby and found out I had cancer in the first place. Now at one of the weakest and darkest times in my life, I find out I am pregnant and this dumb ass is happy! Great! It's official, I am done son! Fuck life completely!

This was my state of mind for the next two months....bedridden and more depressed than ever! To make things worse, test had came back indicating that the baby had downs. I felt beaten to oblivion.....helpless. My thoughts were morbid to say the least on the drive to Vandy the day of my amnio. I was hating everyone in the world....especially myself. This day was the day, the day I decided to take another breath.

"She looks perfectly normal Mrs. Payne, no sign of Down Syndrome or any other abnormalities"....I didn't hear anything after the word Her....up until this point, it was an "IT"...."Her" made it real to me somehow in my simple mind. I began crying at that moment and didn't stop for days. They were not tears of joy either, although everyone thought they were....they were tears of remorse and guilt. How could I have hated this child inside of me so much? This innocent child that did not ask to be brought into this world. She had a purpose, a reason....to slap me in the face and humble me all at the same time. What a "Something Else" she had already become, and wasn't even born yet! That's my Rainy!

OK....I realize I didn't get to the definition of the title, something else poured out instead. Maybe next time.........