I started kindergarten at the ripe old age of four. I was considered one of the fortunate. A young girl who's birthday happens to be November 2nd, three days before the "You have to be five by this date" deadline. The deadline in 1978 was November 5th...this changed the following year...if you were not five by September 1st you had to wait until the following year to attend kindergarten. This was unfortunate for my sister who is 14 months younger than I and had to sit out a year...however based upon my experiences I can say the school made an excellent choice. Four is perhaps just too young...
I love that I remember so much about kindergarten. One particularly favored memory of mine was getting to be a helper. Each day the teacher would choose two helpers...you never knew if it would be you...everyone would walk in each morning and immediately look to the chalkboard, eyes gleaming, hoping to see their own name...
There were two jobs to be done each day and the two class helpers fulfilled these duties. The helpers would walk together to the cafeteria where they would collect milk and cookies for a class wide snack break. When my turn would come and the teacher called up her helpers I would literally jump chairs to lay claim on the class wagon...I had to have that frigging wagon. I loved the looks of jealousy I would receive as I proudly pulled the wagon down the hall, climbed the step ladder to retrieve 22 milks and then pulled that beautiful red wagon back to the classroom, presenting fresh cold milk to my friends. I was determined. I was selfish. The wagon would be MINE...each and every time.
Clearly I hadn't learned a damned thing about sharing. As it turns out I wasn't exactly privy to irony either...I also had no idea that sometimes teachers would play make believe...Teachers were smart and only spoke facts and truth, right? Wrong. My gym teacher was a perfect example.
Why this teacher would mount 22 kindergarten students onto a rope one at a time and then insist that if they didn't climb it quickly the alligators would get them is beyond me. I looked at the ground and saw no alligators. I remember thinking "maybe they didn't come to school today."
One day the twisted gym teacher decided to treat us to a wonderful game of "medicine ball." Thinking back to the size of that massive medicine ball it seemed to be 10 feet tall, towering over me. Thinking back today I was likely around 3 1/2 feet tall and could be wrong in my projected measurements.
The teacher stood in the middle of our little huddle and informed us that we were to roll the ball across the floor in an attempt to hit one of our fellow classmates. If the ball hit you, you were dead and you had to go sit against the wall where you would remain until the game was over.
I remember looking around at my friends...none of them seemed at all disgusted by this horrible example of a "game." I wanted to run and run far far away...but when fight or flight hit, I heroically chose fight...
I ran around that gym floor like a four year old a mission. When I observed my best friend being hit by the ball I froze with sadness...the gym teacher told her she was out...go to the wall...I teared up. She had been such a wonderful friend...and there she was...leaning against the wall near death. Damn you, medicine ball!! As I continued to run I would periodically look to the wall at my poor friends fearing the moment I would see them all close their eyes as they entered eternal slumber...
I have never been very good at sports...But this game was live or die...and it came down to me and John. John was strong and tall. I knew I had my work cut out for me. At this point everyone had touched the ball but me. Touching it by getting hit or touching it by being the person rolling it towards a fellow classmate could surely make no difference, right? A touch is a touch...but I could no longer avoid body contact with the medicine ball so it was at this point that I formulated a master plan. I would kick that damned ball. And that is exactly what I did.
I hit John square in the leg. Yes, I had killed a man...but you have to understand it was either him or me. I survived...and for some reason, so did my friends.
So yes, you are so privileged as to be reading the blog of Mandi Mayes, 1978 Medicine Ball Champion...not because I have any special skills...but because I spent that hour of my existence in gym running for my life.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
9-9-99
A woman who has been married three times is bound to have numerous romantic stories, right? Right? Wrong. I have had some nice experiences in my day but not many of them are truly blog worthy...but there is this one.
In high school I had a rather hectic schedule. From the age of 15 I had been working 6 days a week at a taco joint at the local mall. This afforded me money for some of the things I needed as a teenager however dating, going out with friends and all of those other teenage must do's weren't exactly in the cards for me. I would go to school at 7:00am. Get out at 3:20PM. Ride the bus to the mall where I clocked in at 4PM and would typically work until around 11PM. Once home I had homework to do until I passed out and then I would begin it all again.
Friends knew that if they wanted to speak with me it would be necessary to come to Taco Casa and order a burrito. And each night they typically would...one in particular began to come in 4-5 times a week. His name was Ben and we were classmates. Ben seemed to be extra friendly...I had an on again/off again boyfriend so I wasn't really looking...however the on again/off again guy wasn't exactly good to me. Despite this, I wasn't a cheater so I kept my distance and kept conversation with Ben on a friendly level only.
One night in 1991 Ben was visiting when I hit my hand on the counter and broke my pink ice ring (remember those?). I cried. I loved that ring to pieces. Ben turned around and without saying a word he walked out...I looked to my co-worker and said "That...was odd." However he returned 10 minutes later with a bag...he called me over and said "I'm sorry that this is all I could afford at the moment...but I hope it makes you smile." He handed me the bag and walked out.
It was a ring pop. A beautiful pink ring pop. I looked up and watched as he walked away...and I thought to myself "Now that was sweet.." It was the first time that I saw Ben in a different light. A "possible date" kind of light.
Never the less it wasn't to be...my on again/off again boyfriend became my husband about a year later...and if you have read my blogs below you know my first husband wasn't exactly a winner...about a year after my divorce I ran into Ben while grocery shopping one night and before I knew it we were dating. It was 1998. Seven years had passed since the ring pop incident. I explained to him that his ring pop gift was the moment I realized he could potentially be a good prospect for my life...we giggled about it. Things progressed. We talked briefly of marriage in early 99 and I explained to him that I knew it would be too soon for us, but I had decided when I was 14 that I wanted to get married on 9-9-99 at 9:09PM. I had seen a couple who married on 8-8-88 as a teen and thought it was coolest thing ever...although marriage was out of the question that September, I truly hoped to do something special on that day.
A few months later we had moved in together. It was one of those long work days...I was working a 10 hour shift, not at all unusual and Ben had been working for me (yes, I was technically his boss lol)...We finally got off work and we drove to my parents house to pick up my 2 sons...Ben seemed rushed, very unusual for him. He had always been so laid back...but he was ready to go almost as soon as soon we got there. We jumped into my little blue cavalier and drove off down the road...about 2 miles into our journey home he asked me to pull over. I asked him if something was wrong and again he just said "Please, pull over...now." And so I did.
He got out of the car and walked quickly to my side...he opened my door as he asked "Have you noticed today's date?" I pondered this for about 2 seconds and then remembered what I had somehow forgotten to realize all day. "Ben, it's 9-9-99." He then asked me for the time...I turned back to have a look at the clock. It was exactly 9:09PM. When I turned back to his direction he was already on one knee in the vacant parking lot of the tiny small town market...
"Mandi, I love you. Will you please be my wife?" And from behind his back, 8 years after his first sweet gesture, he presented to me a beautiful pink ring pop. I froze but only momentarily before breaking down into tears and saying "Of course I will!"
We were married on February 25, 2000.
Our divorce was final on April 9, 2005. Not because I didn't get a real ring...although it would have been nice. We divorced because we were always meant to remain friends...and I believe both of us could sense this. Today I still call him a friend...and I am eternally grateful to him for two of the sweetest acts of kindness I have ever had the privilege of experiencing.
In high school I had a rather hectic schedule. From the age of 15 I had been working 6 days a week at a taco joint at the local mall. This afforded me money for some of the things I needed as a teenager however dating, going out with friends and all of those other teenage must do's weren't exactly in the cards for me. I would go to school at 7:00am. Get out at 3:20PM. Ride the bus to the mall where I clocked in at 4PM and would typically work until around 11PM. Once home I had homework to do until I passed out and then I would begin it all again.
Friends knew that if they wanted to speak with me it would be necessary to come to Taco Casa and order a burrito. And each night they typically would...one in particular began to come in 4-5 times a week. His name was Ben and we were classmates. Ben seemed to be extra friendly...I had an on again/off again boyfriend so I wasn't really looking...however the on again/off again guy wasn't exactly good to me. Despite this, I wasn't a cheater so I kept my distance and kept conversation with Ben on a friendly level only.
One night in 1991 Ben was visiting when I hit my hand on the counter and broke my pink ice ring (remember those?). I cried. I loved that ring to pieces. Ben turned around and without saying a word he walked out...I looked to my co-worker and said "That...was odd." However he returned 10 minutes later with a bag...he called me over and said "I'm sorry that this is all I could afford at the moment...but I hope it makes you smile." He handed me the bag and walked out.
It was a ring pop. A beautiful pink ring pop. I looked up and watched as he walked away...and I thought to myself "Now that was sweet.." It was the first time that I saw Ben in a different light. A "possible date" kind of light.
Never the less it wasn't to be...my on again/off again boyfriend became my husband about a year later...and if you have read my blogs below you know my first husband wasn't exactly a winner...about a year after my divorce I ran into Ben while grocery shopping one night and before I knew it we were dating. It was 1998. Seven years had passed since the ring pop incident. I explained to him that his ring pop gift was the moment I realized he could potentially be a good prospect for my life...we giggled about it. Things progressed. We talked briefly of marriage in early 99 and I explained to him that I knew it would be too soon for us, but I had decided when I was 14 that I wanted to get married on 9-9-99 at 9:09PM. I had seen a couple who married on 8-8-88 as a teen and thought it was coolest thing ever...although marriage was out of the question that September, I truly hoped to do something special on that day.
A few months later we had moved in together. It was one of those long work days...I was working a 10 hour shift, not at all unusual and Ben had been working for me (yes, I was technically his boss lol)...We finally got off work and we drove to my parents house to pick up my 2 sons...Ben seemed rushed, very unusual for him. He had always been so laid back...but he was ready to go almost as soon as soon we got there. We jumped into my little blue cavalier and drove off down the road...about 2 miles into our journey home he asked me to pull over. I asked him if something was wrong and again he just said "Please, pull over...now." And so I did.
He got out of the car and walked quickly to my side...he opened my door as he asked "Have you noticed today's date?" I pondered this for about 2 seconds and then remembered what I had somehow forgotten to realize all day. "Ben, it's 9-9-99." He then asked me for the time...I turned back to have a look at the clock. It was exactly 9:09PM. When I turned back to his direction he was already on one knee in the vacant parking lot of the tiny small town market...
"Mandi, I love you. Will you please be my wife?" And from behind his back, 8 years after his first sweet gesture, he presented to me a beautiful pink ring pop. I froze but only momentarily before breaking down into tears and saying "Of course I will!"
We were married on February 25, 2000.
Our divorce was final on April 9, 2005. Not because I didn't get a real ring...although it would have been nice. We divorced because we were always meant to remain friends...and I believe both of us could sense this. Today I still call him a friend...and I am eternally grateful to him for two of the sweetest acts of kindness I have ever had the privilege of experiencing.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Karma...
My first marriage was less than desirable. I won't go into detail because I am long over it all however I will say that the outcome to the following story was much deserved.
I'd been raising our two sons virtually on my own for close to two years. Living in subsidized housing and on public assistance while working full time at the unemployment office for nothing (Don't get me wrong. I loved it...the experience I got there is unmatched by any other "job" I've held.) I'd finally saved enough money to pay off the divorce...I got a letter in the mail informing me of the date of my deposition...That morning I didn't have money for gas so I dropped the boys off at my parents house and asked to borrow $15.
I drove to my attorneys office, turned off the engine and bowed my head. The marriage had been over for years...I wanted it over. We both did. But still, this was it. After this day it would literally be 24 hours before I was once again "single." I stepped out of my car (a 1978 Mercury Grand Marquis I'd purchased for 150 bucks) and made my way onto the sidewalk when I noticed my soon to be ex-husband exiting my attorneys office. He approached me and explained that he had recieved the same letter and informed the attorney that he didn't want or feel a need to be present. I said "Alright, let's do this...See ya. Good luck" And I walked into my attorneys office. The deposition was fairly painless. Yes, we were married. Yes, we had two sons. No, he had not been providing support to help me with them during most of our separation.
It was over. She told me to watch for my papers within a couple of days. I thanked her and I left. The experience was surreal. I walked out onto sidewalk thinking "I'm a statistic. One of the 50% of marriages that fail. One of the single mother households. Life will be such a struggle...but I'm ready." I don't think I ever raised my head...and it's a good thing...because right there on the sidewalk close to my boat of a vehicle was a 100 dollar bill.
I'd seen fake $100 bills before...so I didn't get my hopes up until I picked it up and opened it. It was real. 100% geniune cash. I looked around. There was no one. I wondered if I should report it...Maybe I'll just hold it...for a few days...yeah, right. I pocketed the money and I left. The next 48 hours were rough. I began to wonder "what if that was the last 100 bucks that a single mother like myself had to her name...and now it's gone. No bills paid. No formula..."
Two days later the much needed 100 dollar bill was still in my pocket with me pondering what I should do with it...my (by this point ex-) husband came by in search of the divorce papers (as he was getting married again in less than one month.) And it hit me. That is the same area where we had stopped to talk before the deposition. Could it be? I decided to bring up money in some way..."Oh yeah...did I tell you? I got out of the car at Wal-mart a couple of weeks ago and found 30 bucks on the ground...lucky, huh?" I don't know where I got that figure. It just popped into my head...
He hesitated. Shook his head...and then informed me "You are doing much better than I am. I just lost a hundred bucks."
I only said..."Wow, man...hate to hear that." And then I promptly paid my light bill...with zero regrets.
I'd been raising our two sons virtually on my own for close to two years. Living in subsidized housing and on public assistance while working full time at the unemployment office for nothing (Don't get me wrong. I loved it...the experience I got there is unmatched by any other "job" I've held.) I'd finally saved enough money to pay off the divorce...I got a letter in the mail informing me of the date of my deposition...That morning I didn't have money for gas so I dropped the boys off at my parents house and asked to borrow $15.
I drove to my attorneys office, turned off the engine and bowed my head. The marriage had been over for years...I wanted it over. We both did. But still, this was it. After this day it would literally be 24 hours before I was once again "single." I stepped out of my car (a 1978 Mercury Grand Marquis I'd purchased for 150 bucks) and made my way onto the sidewalk when I noticed my soon to be ex-husband exiting my attorneys office. He approached me and explained that he had recieved the same letter and informed the attorney that he didn't want or feel a need to be present. I said "Alright, let's do this...See ya. Good luck" And I walked into my attorneys office. The deposition was fairly painless. Yes, we were married. Yes, we had two sons. No, he had not been providing support to help me with them during most of our separation.
It was over. She told me to watch for my papers within a couple of days. I thanked her and I left. The experience was surreal. I walked out onto sidewalk thinking "I'm a statistic. One of the 50% of marriages that fail. One of the single mother households. Life will be such a struggle...but I'm ready." I don't think I ever raised my head...and it's a good thing...because right there on the sidewalk close to my boat of a vehicle was a 100 dollar bill.
I'd seen fake $100 bills before...so I didn't get my hopes up until I picked it up and opened it. It was real. 100% geniune cash. I looked around. There was no one. I wondered if I should report it...Maybe I'll just hold it...for a few days...yeah, right. I pocketed the money and I left. The next 48 hours were rough. I began to wonder "what if that was the last 100 bucks that a single mother like myself had to her name...and now it's gone. No bills paid. No formula..."
Two days later the much needed 100 dollar bill was still in my pocket with me pondering what I should do with it...my (by this point ex-) husband came by in search of the divorce papers (as he was getting married again in less than one month.) And it hit me. That is the same area where we had stopped to talk before the deposition. Could it be? I decided to bring up money in some way..."Oh yeah...did I tell you? I got out of the car at Wal-mart a couple of weeks ago and found 30 bucks on the ground...lucky, huh?" I don't know where I got that figure. It just popped into my head...
He hesitated. Shook his head...and then informed me "You are doing much better than I am. I just lost a hundred bucks."
I only said..."Wow, man...hate to hear that." And then I promptly paid my light bill...with zero regrets.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Dear Diary
The name is Amanda Heather Mayes. I haven't blogged in...years. Not as I once did. At the suggestion of a friend, I thought I'd give it a try once more. Maybe sometimes I'll be funny. Maybe at other times I'll be dramatic (I've been known to do this from time to time. LOL)
If you know me at all, you know I have been through a great deal in my life. Not long ago I began to feel as though I have lost so much time on frivilous things and chasing hopeless dreams...I realize now that I have not lost time...I have gained knowledge.
By 17 I learned that mistakes will follow you no matter where you go...and who cares? Can I change what I have done? No. So I had to learn to forgive myself. And I did. By 20 I learned that I could successfully be a mother. A working mother, in fact. By 24, I learned that closing doors on painful relationships isn't the end of anything actually...it's the beginning of a new dream. By 29 I realized that I could still succeed. With no college education and nothing more than the will to be more successful I could find myself promoted into positions paying as much and at times more than the salaries of my friends with college degrees. By 34 I learned that I could love someone else's child as my own. By 37 I learned that I am still gullible at times and should perhaps trust my own intuition...but I am fine with how I am. Any less than gullible and I'd likely never believe in anything or anyone again.
Through it all I have learned the most important thing...no matter what changes in my life, life goes on...so the only question to ask myself is...what great adventure will I go on next?
If you know me at all, you know I have been through a great deal in my life. Not long ago I began to feel as though I have lost so much time on frivilous things and chasing hopeless dreams...I realize now that I have not lost time...I have gained knowledge.
By 17 I learned that mistakes will follow you no matter where you go...and who cares? Can I change what I have done? No. So I had to learn to forgive myself. And I did. By 20 I learned that I could successfully be a mother. A working mother, in fact. By 24, I learned that closing doors on painful relationships isn't the end of anything actually...it's the beginning of a new dream. By 29 I realized that I could still succeed. With no college education and nothing more than the will to be more successful I could find myself promoted into positions paying as much and at times more than the salaries of my friends with college degrees. By 34 I learned that I could love someone else's child as my own. By 37 I learned that I am still gullible at times and should perhaps trust my own intuition...but I am fine with how I am. Any less than gullible and I'd likely never believe in anything or anyone again.
Through it all I have learned the most important thing...no matter what changes in my life, life goes on...so the only question to ask myself is...what great adventure will I go on next?
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