Jeneric Jeneralities ~ by JenIG

sunlight embraced me, waking me with the sweet promise of spring. My
lacy white drapes were drawn back like curtains on a stage, displaying
the first radiant, clear, blue sky in three months. I drew in a deep
satisfied breath and was filled with an eagerness to start the day. I
leaped out of bed, and screamed in pain. It was the sharp edge of my
four-year-old's jumbo Lego piece. But it mattered little. I gathered my
crumpled self off the floor. The sun was lighting up my room and
inspiring me, so much, in fact, that I headed downstairs to do a
workout video. I needed to feel like a part of this day, full of life.


minutes into my routine I was feeling great. I was about to grapevine
to the left when a groggy-eyed eight-year-old appeared on the stairs.


“Hi, mom.”


I panted. I kept going, annoyed, yet not deterred. Out of nowhere, my
four-year-old suddenly flew straight into my legs with an excited
shriek. I stumbled out of sync with the perfect blonde on the screen.


off.” I wheezed, “Go eat.” Fewer words, less loss of energy. My
eight-year-old, Molly, stumbled down the stairs and stopped, mid-yawn,
staring with amusement.


Kelly twirled and knocked into my legs.


“Mama, can I dance with you?”


I gave a pleading look. “Molly, make breakfast for you and your
sister.” She nodded and dragged Kelly, who started squealing, into the
kitchen. I blocked them out as they banged cupboards and dropped
silverware. I focused my concentration faithfully on the perfect blonde
doing rock steps to the left. Minutes later a loud thud shook the
ceiling. Angry bellows followed.


dive-bombed out of his crib,” Molly hollered from the kitchen.
Frustrated, I snapped off the TV and went to tend the man-child.


being plunked into his high chair with a pop tart, I switched on the
radio news hoping for a small glimpse of the free world on the outside
while I did dishes.


Bo began fussing so I gave him a spoon and a cottage cheese lid to play with, and then began re-organizing the refrigerator.


“Mom, will you play a game with me?” Molly asked.


I said slowly, as if I were actually considering it, “I have a lot to
get done.” I smiled and gave her a quick pat on the head, “Maybe later.”


Not a minute passed before Kelly was in my face holding up her favorite book.

“You wanna read Go Dog, Go?”
She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Bo chucked his
spoon at me and it clattered across the floor. The cottage cheese lid
came sailing after seconds later. He tossed his head back and angrily
kicked the bottom of his high chair tray.


“You wanna?” she asked, still bouncing.


“What?” I asked vaguely.


“Will you read this to me?”


not right now,” I told her, “Maybe later, O.K.? I have to do the
laundry.” I smiled apologetically but this didn't deter her.


“Ooooohhhhh! Can I help you?” she squealed. I grabbed the screaming baby and plopped him into his playpen.


“How ’bout you watch Barney instead?” I suggested. With her help the laundry would take twice as long.

I started folding towels and made a mental list of the jobs I had for the day.


started crying again. He was standing against the mesh side and holding
his pudgy little arms out towards me. He hadn't had his morning bottle
and was fussy.


searching the cupboards twice, I remembered leaving his formula in the
van. Shoving my sock-less feet into my tennis shoes, I ran to get it.


I closed the door to my dreary, monotonous home I was met with the
beauty of life “on the outside.” I leaned against the cool wood door
and drank in the peacefulness. The sky was a perfect springtime blue.
The fresh morning air was brushed with sweet jasmine and new grass and
together they fragrantly swirled their lovely fingers within my soul,
stirring remembrances of beautiful, carefree days of long ago. I once
had dreams. How did I end up as just a stay-at-home mother?


hadn't realized my eyes were closed until they snapped open as Bo's
ear-piercing war cry sliced through the door. I lingered outside
defiantly, blocking him out.


young man turning the corner at the end of the block caught my eye. He
was glancing at the houses on both sides of the street. He had a
leather jacket tossed over his shoulder and on his right arm there was
a large, indiscernible tattoo. He caught my gaze and held it. He swung
his long hair off his shoulders and quickened his step. I slid the van
door open and searched for the formula, which I found lodged under the
back seat. I turned around and jerked, startled that the young man had
stopped at the foot of my inclined driveway and was watching me. I
dropped the formula and it rolled into the street. He ignored the can
and pulled out a piece of paper.


“I can't find Irving Circle; you know which way it is?” he asked. I nodded and gave quick directions.


He mumbled “thanks” and sped off.


Bo's screams heightened. I rolled my eyes and ran to collect his formula.


did not see the truck barreling down the street, nor did I feel the
impact as it struck me, but I knew instantly that I was dead. I was
staring at my body on the street while a frantic man jumped out of the
truck and began clutching at his hair. I turned in a slow circle, not
sure of what to do. White powder was spewn over the asphalt where I


children. The thought spun me towards my house. I stood in the street
near my body, yet I could see clearly into every room of my home. Bo
was angrily throwing his head against the mesh side of the playpen.
Molly was on her bed staring at the ceiling. Little Kelly was sitting
on the couch concentrating on the book I wouldn’t read her.


tried stepping towards my home but couldn't move my legs. I could and
did stumble backwards, but when I rushed forward, my feet held fast.


looked around wildly as things began strangely changing. The bright
blue sky slowly seeped away like fresh paint washed away by the rain.
In its place a lifeless gray oozed out, soaking up the open space. The
landscape stood securely, but all of its color drained.


of all sorts invaded me and I fell to my knees. I desperately willed
for my children to stay inside. I watched them intently.


was grabbed suddenly from behind, and was shocked to see my mother.
Tears were streaming down her face. She had been dead for years.
Despite my surprise, I was mildly annoyed at being distracted.


been waiting for so long,” her voice broke. She hugged me again and I
let her. I was glad when she turned from me and looked towards my
children. She covered her mouth and cried.


been watching you all this time,” she managed, and then took a deep
breath to calm herself. “Right from the very start, I’ve watched you
with your children.” A sob escaped her, but she controlled her voice
and said, “I see that I taught you well.”


You taught me nothing,
I very nearly snapped, for she hadn't. She had always been too busy
with “life” to spend time with me. Then I realized her meaning. The
reality slapped me. I couldn't breathe as I stared at each of their
lovely faces. Regret dumped over me in heavy ice-cold splashes. It was
true. I was just like her. The children were something that needed to
“get done.” Just another endless household job.


many times had I wished my mother would sit with me? How many times had
my children wanted that? I longed desperately to touch them. Why hadn't
I put Kelly on my lap and taught her to fold the clothes, or danced
with her, instead of the perfect blonde on TV? Now, I
would never have the chance. And my son. I would never be able to hold
his chubby little body against me. I could count on one hand the times
I had sat down to play with Molly, or brush her hair, or listen to her
talk. I was always too busy.


mother put her hand on my shoulder. I restrained the urge to pull away.
I didn’t want to see her then, but reluctantly gave her my attention
when I saw her pleading eyes. She stumbled for words. “I wish that
things would have been different,” she finally said. I wasn't sure if
she meant for her and me, or for my children and me.


she said, “can we please spend some time?” she looked at me hopefully.
“We could read together; I know you like to read.” But I didn’t want to
be with her. I just wanted to be alone and wait for my children to
finally come to where I was. I barely knew this sorrowful woman.


kept my eyes on my children and let my mother wait. Time began shifting
strangely, much like the colors had. I watched as changes came
stridently. Bo stopped crying and his playpen disappeared. Seconds
later he was a toddler running through the house. I watched in
amazement as Molly's features changed and her young girlish face
sharpened beautifully. Little Kelly's cropped hair grew long and was
tied back, and she moved gracefully, rather than bouncing off the walls
in a hyper frenzy.


was interrupted this time by the voice of my grandmother. “Ha!” she
chortled. “Yeh finally got here, I see.” She was hunched over in a
drab, knitted shawl and her wrinkled face was twisted into a frown. She
cocked her head. “I see yeh got yerself some little devils runnin'
wild.” She shook her head and heaved out a sigh, “Yer mother rattles
about how delightful they are. Ha! Sure, they’re cute now… I just had
me the one! And I was still kept tied to the house like a slave!” I
stared at her with disdain. She peered towards my house and nodded,
“Well, if you take to wallowin' in yer pity, least you can find comfort
that your toilet bowl is shined up nice and clean.”


didn't know if she mocked me or if she spoke out of sheer idiocy, but
at that point I didn't care, and began screaming at her until she left.


hated being here. I could only wait until my children came. Things had
continued to change while I was yelling at my grandmother. The children
were a little older and a woman was in the house. A woman? She had my
children by the hands, twirling them in a circle. And they were all
laughing. I pressed against the unseen window that blocked me from my
children. They were fine. They were happy. Then the woman gathered my
children on the couch. Bo reached up and touched her face and she
smiled lovingly at him. Something twisted in my heart. Molly leaned
against the woman's shoulder. The woman's other arm drew Kelly in
close. Kelly beamed and held up a book. “Will you read this one, Mommy?”


What? Had Kelly called her Mommy? The woman kissed my daughter's head and opened the book.


“NO!” I screamed, “I'm Mommy!” I pressed against the window desperately. “Kelly! I'm your Mommy!” She could not hear me. They didn't remember me. They loved her.
Now what would I be waiting for? My children would greet me with the
same enthusiasm that I had for my own mother. It was too much to bear.
Sorrow crashed against me in violent waves, choking me, drowning me.


“Please!” I sobbed, “I love you! Remember? Please remember!” But remember what? That I was too busy? Oh God! I pleaded. They must have known I loved them.


blinded me. I couldn't see them but I could hear their voices and they
tortured me. “Mommy?” Kelly asked her. The woman didn't answer. I could
do nothing but cry. Laughter and joy came from the room. Why hadn't I
seen how much they meant to me when I was there?


Kelly said again, and once more the woman did not answer. Why would she
not answer? I tried to see through my tears but everything was blurry
and gray. My mother whispered, “I'm sorry,” sounding far-off. It echoed against my sorrow. And then again, another hand was on my shoulder.




gray swirled and dispersed. I was lying on my back. My eyes opened
slowly. My white lacy drapes were pulled back, displaying a clear blue
sky, and Kelly was leaning over me with wide, beautiful, teary eyes.


I had a bad dream,” she said. I pulled her close and buried my
tear-stained face into her hair. I kept my eyes open, afraid to be
sucked back into that dreary gray world.


“I had a bad dream too, my love.” I whispered. She pulled away with surprise, “Did you dream that I fell off the roof, too?”


I laughed through my tears.


“That's awful, sweetie; is that what you dreamed?” She nodded and I hugged her again until she finally gasped for air.


that new day, on that beautiful morning, I had the first truly
productive day I'd ever had. Syrupy plates piled up in the sink, and
the mountain of laundry grew to new heights. The radio stayed off and
the TV was nearly chucked into the dumpster.


first day we gathered up every pillow in the house and built a fort
around the kitchen table. And we stayed inside that fort, Bo on my lap
and my girls at my side, and read Go Dog Go about fifteen times.


I was no longer trapped; my dreams were being realized. I learned this on the day I died, and praised God for second chances.

Written by Jenefer Igarashi, first published in The Old Schoolhouse Magazine Summer 03 issue


December 16th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

If you want to buy me a pretty ruby or emerald ring for Christmas, go get it at
Man, she has cool stuff for cheapies.  That's my friend CarleyRoss's site (pay attention, Gena, I want a ruby ring like that one you bought at

Or, you can get me a dehydrator so I can make a bunch of Y2K dried
fruit thingies for the approaching impending unavoidable catostraphic
oncoming day of doom.  We will be safe from all harm with our
packets of Apple fruit leather.

Or, you can get me a goat and keep it at your house until we finally buy a place of our own.

Or, you can just get me a house. That'd be a special Christmassy surprise. Make sure it has a creek running thru it.

Or, you can get me several cases of curry.

And so help me if I find one of your ugly pig puppies under my tree I
will stop being your sister.  I will also kill you dead after a
long torturous torturing. 

December 15th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

December 14th, 2005
Gena And Her Poor Dumb Dogs

If you haven't yet claimed your puppy, there is still time.  Click here and add an ugly dog to your family

Honestly, take a puppy. 

Lastly, you'll all be glad to hear that our sewer line got fixed.

December 14th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

December 14th, 2005
Let's ReWrite History

I stole this idea from TC, who stole this idea from Shades of Pink, a nominee in the Best Homeschool Family Blog category in the Homeschool Blog Awards coordinated by our own Spunky. (If you haven't voted yet, here's the site.)


So here's what you gotta do: Post a comment here with a COMPLETELY MADE-UP, FICTIONAL MEMORY OF YOU AND ME.

can be anything you want–good or bad–and can include fellow bloggers,
if you wish. (Keep it within a G/PG rating, please.) I'm anxious to
read about our fictional
past!  Like the time when Dandelion Seeds broke down in front of my house and demanded that I deliver her baby, so I called KarenW
to come help and she got so excited that she ran into the glass sliding
door.  Get it?  Fun, eh?  This is the funnest idea I've
seen all week.  Ok… so how do we know each other?  

December 14th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

Yes, please come over and feel free to fix
the sewer line which has now officially backed up.  We will not be
here when you come, but go ahead and make yourself at home.  We
will be fleeing Sewer Flats and possibly taking a drive out to
Hohenwald to look at cheap houses for sale (ones that do not have sewer
issues) because at this point we have just got to go …honestly, we
can't use the loo, and we really really really gots to go.

December 14th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

December 12th, 2005
I'm Not a Tame Monkey

Ok, i've got just a few things to say
here.  First of all, the Narnia movie was pretty ok. Geo said
it was tons better than what he thought it would be.  The book is
definitely better.  Susan sorta looks
like Coie, so that was interesting.

Secondly, I got tagged.  Now, I am the tagless sort.  I don't ever
play tag, but since I like Amber so much I'm gonna sorta play along… but,
because I am also the rebellious sort, I am switching the rules and writing my
own questions.  Feel free to tag yourself
with them any time you want.

What is Your I.Q.
?  A little lower than a cactus, but still three
points higher than Gena's

Who Does Everyone Say You Look Like?
: It used to be Laura from little house
on the Prairie.  Last month someone said I look like that really ugly lady
who plays on the Terminator.  Nice.


How Much Do You Wish You Weighed?  I'm trying to
get back to my original weight, 7lbs 11 oz (I totally stole this joke)

How Come You Don't Like Playing Blog Tag?
Because I don't particularly want
to have to think unless it's absolutely necessary; I don't want to waste any of
my brain power.  I only have so much of it and it needs to be used


How Come You Never
Call People On The Phone?
  Because I
hate phones. They are evil and I hate them and I don’t like to talk into them.


What Do You Wish You
Were Doing Right This Very Second?
I wish I was playing first base in a
softball game on a hot sunny day that was almost turning into twilight.


What Are You Going To
Do To The Next Person Who Tags You?
Something tremendously painful. Heh heh

Love Jen


December 12th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

When I was in the third grade, I knew how
to read.  Yep, I'd learned several years earlier.  Reading
was fun and all, but I always wondered in the back of my head, “What
the heck is this really good for?”

So anyhow, when I was in the third grade, our classroom had a little
library where you could pick books to read during quiet time.  One
day I picked up a book, and within that short hour I understood the
purpose of reading.
C.S.Lewis totally 'got me'.  He understood the passion I had for
make believe lands and for things that couldn't be.  He was my
hero for writing The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.  He made me
want to become a writer because he made me love reading.

When I became a mom, I couldn't wait for Coie to learn how to read so
she could have the same life changing experience when she read the
Narnia books.  She thought they were entirely boring (I guess I
should have waited until she was older than five to make her read
them).  Ryann never seemed to go nuts for them either, so I sort
of gave up.  And then, this summer, I got this idea that I would
read through the series to all of them out loud.  I thought I
hated reading out loud, but it turns out I actually like it.  And
this has been one of the funnest events our family has done
together.  The night before last we finished the fourth book The
Silver Chair and today…. we are going to see the Narnia movie. 
Is that exciting or what? we all can't wait. 

And I feel exactly the same way as my eight year old son BoBo said it:
“I sure hope they didn't wreck it.  Movies always wreck the
books”.  I'll let you know what we think of it later.

December 12th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

I'm not going to dislike Marsha
just because she is smarter than me.  I mean, lots of people are
smarter than me.  We should embrace the smart people in our life.
So I shall only smile happily when I tell you she was right. Our heater
was not broken, the propane tank was indeed empty.

However… I'm not entirely as dumb as it may appear.  When we
first done moved into Sewer Flats, we asked the landlord about the
propane tank, and they (him and his wife) implied that the tank was
just for decoration and that “ever thin' in thuh hay-ous is all
Lectric”.  Well, it aint.  Dang nab dumb stupidey dumb old
dang dumb rental.  But I will still say “I'm thankful” so Dandlion Seeds won't start sending me links to my old dumb stinkin' stupidy old 'thankfullness' entries.

And to top it all off, last night *somebody* –who is not me
flooded the upstairs bathroom to such an alarming degree that it sent a
cascading non-sparkling sewerfall of water streaming down from the
ceiling and walls into the hallway right outside my bedroom. 
Like. Gag.

PS Jammie, you
will be proud to know that we did indeed chop off portions of our
overly large Christmas Tree and burn them in our fire place.

December 9th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

December 8th, 2005
I Just Got Me ONE Thing To Say

Ok, maybe two things.  First of all, my blog got hijacked again.  I deserve some sort of present and will be expecting expensive trinkets from Kentucky.  I'm talking to you, Genie Weanie

Second of all, my heater went dead. Remember when I was whining about
how Tennessee is way too hot?  Well, i was lying.  It's not
too hot here. It is freezing.  My fingers may very well shatter
into millions of frozen finger shards as I sit here and type
this.  So Geo is going to call the landlord today and ask him if
he'd be so kind to come over and make the heater work.  Oh my how
that makes me shudder.  I hope he doesn't remember the middle of
the night phone rant I placed about the non-bug-infestation-poison-ivy
problem. zoiks. 

Three, the sewer problem is startin' to seriously stank

Four, I think it time we try to buy our own place. A place with a
working heater. And a working sewer line.  And with no nudist

Five, we got this monumentally enourmous Christmas tree several days ago but it is too large to decorate.

The End

December 8th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

Hey, i need your help. My daughter Emmiko really really really wants to be a  “Back Then Girl” (her words).  She wants to start wearing dresses and bonnets and those little white legging thingies that go under those back then dresses.  Where can I buy such back then stuff (preferrably at back then
prices)?  And I don't want any Ebay suggestions because I hate
ebay.  I hate it most detestebly. I can't ever figure out how to
buy stuff or log in.  I just want to go to a nice and easy website
with a shopping cart and buy my kid her back then garb for Christmas.  Any ideas?

December 7th, 2005 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

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