MouthyGirl.com

How Could You?

In the news locally recently a baby girl went missing and a young mother cried out on the news for help in finding her baby. My heart went out to her as she cried that she needed her baby on the 8:00 news.

Then there was new information revealed and the father was arrested for interfering with an investigation. This morning yet more information is revealed and the mother has been arrested, apparently the baby has been killed.

To that poor 9 month old soul, I hope she rests in peace, this world hardly new her, but to the parents of that poor child who cried out to the media for help knowing that there was no help to be found for her deserve every punishment the law can throw at them.

In my opinion crimes against children are the most heinous. It takes an especially sick mind to make a child a victim, to look an innocent child in the face and still want to harm them. I mourn today for Daisja Weaver.

Now the whole story is out, that the mom feared for herself and her baby and didn’t know what to do. CALL THE COPS! In the news story she says when he picked her up from work, THE DAY AFTER THE DEED WAS DONE, she was forced to go to Lake Lewisville where Dad dumped the body.

I realize it’s hard to cast blame and shadow on those inside the situation, but how do you function in any fashion normally at work when your child has been murdered? How do you get in a vehicle with a person that has killed your child? How do you look at that person and not kill them yourself?

Poor baby Daisja, who will never have a life, deserves justice.

Tags: cops, dad, father, girls, mom, news, Opinion, parents, peace, want

Remembering Lost Soldiers

I had an uncle, my mom’s brother, who was a towering giant of a man. As a child when you were around him you felt incredibly safe and protected but at the same time, scared of him – you never want to anger a six plus foot tall man when you’re only three feet tall, lol.

I remember our families, my sisters and I and our cousin Rebecca spending a lot of time together when we were younger, before our families all settled in different areas and our lives became too busy for regular forays to visit family in other states.

We had a lot of fun, for a long time all of the kids in our family were girls until my cousin Wesley came along (named after my uncle). Regardless when we were younger we would all inevitably anger the big man, always far too late at night for us little girls to be awake and giggling, and we’d hear the giant bellow from the living room, “Girls, GO TO SLEEP!”. We would all gasp and close our eyes very tightly, laying as silently as we could in case he came to check.

And when he did, those footsteps through the house lasted an eternity! Rebecca always gave us away, she was defiant from the start, and that still hasn’t changed about her.

My uncle’s name was John, and he had a tour in Vietnam when he was young, lost a best friend there. In the late 90’s when I was still too wrapped up in my own teenaged life to notice, my uncle started battling the big C. Cancer.

I didn’t really become cognizant of the battles he was going through until my son and I got our own place and I became much more involved with my family. (my marriage had isolated me from them).

I remember one year when my uncle was having a particularly hard time, and this was after battling cancer off and on for probably ten years or so, and he had indicated to the family that he didn’t want to fight it anymore. I was devastated, my uncle had been a deacon in mine and my sister’s baptisms and we all felt a closeness to him, almost like a father to us. My mother and I arranged to visit for a weekend and did, staying in a motel room and visiting with my Grandfather while we were in Oklahoma, where my uncle had settled.

After we came back home, I wrote my uncle a letter, and though I don’t recall everything that I said, I remember recording raw emotion and desperation like I’ve never felt before, pouring out of me into that letter. I wanted him to continue to fight, a big man such as he, a vehicle of God like himself, surely could push on and beat this, just around the next corner.

He continued to fight after that, and I wrote a few more letters to him, but increasingly his health got worse, and for most of the last I’ll say two years of his life, he was in declining health and leaving home less often.

In the spring of 2006 we buried my Uncle. It was a very hard time for our family and we’ve all struggled since that time to remain close and in touch, sometimes when family suffers a loss like this it’s hard to get together without thinking of those we’ve lost. My grandmother, who is a confirmed saint, had to bury her oldest son – and her best friend. I have a huge frog in my throat as I write this, it was an incredibly painful time for all of us.

Days like tomorrow remind me of him, and the Agent Orange that he was exposed to in Vietnam that eventually took his life. When I look at my cousin Rebecca it pains me to think about her having to continue her life without him in it, they always shared a closeness and a bond that was palpable to the rest of the family. I envied her relationship at times, as I didn’t have that kind with my own father.

I think about all the fathers and sons at war for our country right now and worry for them, praying to an unknown god that they will return to their families and enjoy a long and plentiful life.

This post is in memory of my Uncle, John Tuck, who fought and died for his country. I miss my uncle.

Pictured below: John & Rebecca Tuck.

Tags: brother, confirmation, country, father, friend, friends, girls, god, grandmother, marriage, memory, mom, relationship, relationships, soldier, son, spring, want, worry

What of it?

I’ve always been sort of a loner, never been much for big social gatherings and I wouldn’t claim to be a social butterfly by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve always had a standoffish type persona I guess, one where I’ve been expected to have sarcasm available at any given second (and I do) and I’m expected to be bitchy (and I am) when the situation calls for it, and I’m expected to be demanding and results driven, none of which I dispute. But all of these things that I am go against this one thing.

I dig Miley and Billy Ray Cyrus.

Oh the weight that just lifted off of me. Wow. I feel so free. Yes, I confess, I like them. I loved Billy Ray Cyrus when I was a teenager, not because I thought he was hot (stars have never held that WOW HE’S HOT factor for me) but because I loved his music. I enjoyed Some Gave All and would frequently skip Achy Breaky because I disliked the song and thought it atypical. I love all kinds of music, but what I love about it most is the story, if there is one. I like my share of dance music and pop music too, but I love music that tells a story and even more if it’s uplifting in its story.

I saw the video for Miley Cyrus’ song from Hannah Montana. It’s a good song, it’s uplifting, inspirational and it’s a story that’s even extended with a movie.

Admitting this exposes me to an amount of lameness I have to acknowledge that I possess inside. So I accept it, embrace it and make it my own.

So yeah, I dig Miley and Billy Ray and I even watched that show Doc he starred in on PAXtv, lol! He’s a good actor too, guess that runs in the family.

So what of it anyways? Isn’t there some lameness in you? Want to confess?

Tags: billy ray cyrus, girls, inspiration, lol, Love, miley cyrus, music, some gave all