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Some where in the Frigid Northeast of The United States of America, there is an infant shivering in the cold. Like 5 degree temperature Fahrenheit, folks.
No, no, not in a manger with shepherds and brilliant guiding stars, and angels singing on high from above, but on a sidewalk in a small town in the U.S. North with approximately one-half of the local citizenry as witnesses. And canned, recorded, old Christmas music blaring over the local emergency broadcast system.
Mama and Dada brought their precious child to his first small town Christmas parade.
You know the parades where every fire company in a 50 mile radius cleans and decorates their majestic fire trucks. Rescue trucks too. Candy is thrown to the excited children. Tractor stores, Tree Trimming companies, Septic Cleaning companies, High School hockey teams, Veteran’s groups, Honor Guards, Local Churches, the Sheriff, the Local Police, EMS in the parade – it really is great to watch all of the small town camaraderie. Lots of back slapping and reminiscing and laughter. Other than freezing toes, I was really in to this small town expression of brotherly love.
Then, someone smelled a Poopy diaper, or maybe a bad ass fart. Ah, poor baby got passed off to Mama to investigate and remedy the situation on the spot. So sad for baby.
Shivering in the cold.
Meanwhile, Baby Boomer Mom is slowly backing up into me. “We need to move further down,” she says. OK, so we do. Away from small baby. And I’m thinking, “Wow, the smell.”
At a safe distance half way down the block, I notice Mom sneaking peeks at the family scene we just left behind. “Damn,” she says. “Those beans flat tore me up. We just really needed to get out of there before they opened up the diaper.”
My mom. Please, if there is a God in Heaven, forgive her.
“Jim, Jim, JIM!”, says the Voice #1.
A moment passes. No one replies in the waiting room.
“Gean?”, says Voice #2.
“Yes, I‘m here. “, I say.
“OK, well let’s go on back.”, I hear from Voice #2.
“Here ya go, Mister.”, I hear suddenly from Voice #1 as she pushes paperwork at me.
And I say, “Excuse me, it’s Miss”.
“Yeah, right”, snorts Voice #1.
Seriously, folks? I just want my teeth cleaned.
Doc filled a cavity. Never did get the cleaning.
So not going back. ~ Gean
In other news today, it seems that youngest nephew decided to pee in big sister’s toy teapot and serve it to her dolls. About the same time as the tea party (which sister missed), sister was having the lump and cut on her head examined by the school nurse. Note: Walking backwards in the hall using the “eyes in the back of her head” doesn’t work as well as Mommy’s eyes do in the back of HER head.
I prefer to think of my nieces and nephews as gifted and creative. They think outside the box. WAY outside the box, but with only the genius a child can possess.
Others. I fear, see them as:
1) so far away from the box they can’t see the edges anymore, or
2) that they are buried deep within the darkness of the box.
I really love these kids!
Photography by ~ Gean
I’ve struggled with acne for a long time. It started with just a few spots here and there. I remember my family telling me not to worry, that it was normal for a teenager. But as I went through my teenage years it seemed to get worse, not better. I tried everything that’s out there for acne – every product, treatment, or pill. Doctors continued to give me remedies that didn’t help. They always said it gets worse, and then better. But better never came to my house. He probably skipped my street.
So, acne made me feel self-conscious in a big, big way. I felt like I had pizza face. I felt like people judged me. I felt unattractive and less confident. I felt like people were staring at me all the time, that they were looking at my acne instead of me. And that gave me a lot of anxiety making me feel really, really bad about myself. I wasn’t beautiful, and it was so important to me to be beautiful.
I used to cake make-up on, and it never seemed to be enough. People always told me that make-up causes acne. Fun fact: it doesn’t cause acne, but it does clog pores.
When I was about 15 or 16, I went to see a dermatologist, and he gave me some cream and some pills to take. My acne got worse and worse, but then it gradually got better as time went on. I’d see good results, but every time I saw good results, I’d stop the prescription creams and pills. A few months would go by, and sure enough, acne came back even worse than before. I finally started using the cream again, and really sticking to it and thought it was gone for good.
I was about 17 when it popped up like crazy all over my face. There seriously wasn’t a space between what was a pimple and a space that was clear. It tore at my confidence. It made me feel so bad that I finally just told myself: I love my acne, and I love myself. I just really didn’t give a f*ck about what people thought.
Finally, I found a brand – Origins. Turns out sticking to one brand that contains all natural ingredients was one of the main keys that helped me control my acne. I’m happy with myself today. Yes, I still have marks and some acne here and there, but I love my acne because it’s a part of me.
So, here’s a big Life Lesson: At the end of the day know that you’re beautiful and strong. Never let anyone tell you you’re not. Stay true to yourself and love yourself. I think that is one of the most important things ever to know in life. ~ Gean