Five years of Taterbug

*Tatum Maris Reed*

21 February 2012 @ 12:46pm CST • 7lbs4oz & 19.7 inches

Born at the Regional Medical Center of Memphis

Looking back at the announcement of her birth feels like a million years have passed.  Only half a decade?  Surely every parent can attest to the fact that time flies when it comes to your children.  A blink of an eye brings a seemingly endless supply of memories, yet it still seems like only yesterday.  So much between now and then….

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Five years with my favorite daughter

Tatum, you have been a beacon of light since you were in my womb.  Your growth these past few years astounds me.  Other than your giant blue eyes [with flecks of gold in your right iris] you don’t even look like the tiny baby I cradled in my arms at the hospital.  Watching you develop into an intelligent, confident, sassy,charismatic, loving, opinionated, silly, funny, sweet little girl.  You are everyone’s Princess!  I love you with every ounce of my being.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

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Don’t eat all my candy

Other than stocking up on sugary swag for my kiddos and no time to enjoy a delicious meal cooked and served by somebody else because you are a T4T Team Captain food specials at local eateries, Valentine’s Day was just another day.  Even though it’s nothing special to me I could not help but contemplate the 14th of February a few days after the fact.  I promise to steer clear of sappy and bypass bitter.

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When asked to select his mom or dad Adam chose…his sister!

“Dear Tatum, I have many reasons why I love you.  I’m just going to give you three.  You’re so cute.  You make me feel happy.  You’re smart and it makes me feel good that you’re smart.  You’re loving and it makes me feel very loved.  Love, Adam.  P.S.  Don’t eat all my candy.”

Adam made this for Tatum at school.  Talk about making a mama’s heart melt.  I absolutely adore the fact he selected his little sister as the recipient of the sole Valentine each student made for the craft.  What a fantastic big brother!  He never ceases to amaze me.  Whenever she’s not around he’s always asking about her– if the two of us are out and about he’s constantly picking out things she would like.  I could not ask for a better sibling connection.  During a time where Adam’s overall behavior has been…less than ideal…it reassures me to see that he treats his role as a big brother with the utmost reverence.

vdUntil recently my relationship status on Facebook fluctuated weekly.  Nothing actually changed outside of social media; however, I explored various types of taken, borrowed a boyfriend [thanks Jeff!], and was even single for a brief stint.  Now I’ve settled into the ambiguous “It’s complicated” — with no name attached.  Trust me when I say this is not an attempt to be evasive or dramatic.  My love life contains a myriad of complexities but it’s not complicated.  Blasting my personal business on front street no longer serves me well.

Is there a #1 in my heart?  Without a shadow of a doubt.  I am involved with a special someone.  We are ever evolving but our dedication remains constant.  That means I have no desire for dating, fornicating, or boyfriend-ing anyone else.  It’s no secret to those who know us…yet our mutual agreement involves flying under the radar until a more appropriate time.

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“Love is friendship that has caught fire.  It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving.  It is loyalty through good and bad times.  It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.” ~ Ann Landers

💝

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The collage above pays homage to the Other that is Signifcant.  He thoroughly enjoys perusing this blog when he gets the chance.  Not only does he mention it to everyone we meet but he boasts that it got me on TV.  As if my ego needed any more expansion. 😉

I am grateful for what we share.  It takes a special kind of man to want what’s best for the woman he loves.  Even if it means loving from a distance.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Posted in Adam, Cheese, Jojo Dancer, Love, Relationships, Riverdale, Tatum, TeePee | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Time capsule and a funeral

Adam, Tatum, and I created a time capsule over the weekend per their request.  It was a spur of the moment thing but I decided to roll with it.  Easier said than done given my perfectionist tendencies and control freak self.  After all it was their project, not mine, so I gave them free reign.  I smiled, took a few deep breaths, and asked my children what they wanted to include.  Each of us enclosed a small note dated and signed, along with a few trinkets.  Several recent pictures were added to our capsule– which was housed in Adam’s old Captain America lunchbox.  Not only did he provide the structure but he also dug the hole to house it!   Before leaving the backyard a new event was added to iPhone calendar:  Open Time Capsule on 30 January 2021. 

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Here lies our time capsule. Why I didn’t take a photo of the finished product prior to burial is beyond me.

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Family is everything.

Yesterday I attended the funeral of one of my good friends, Warren Smith.  His funeral, held at the Methodist church of his childhood, didn’t coincide with the Warren I knew.  Of course the final service that you would plan for yourself drastically differs than the one your mother would choose for you…yet I felt a disconnect between the hymns, prayers, and eulogy from the Minister and the spirit of my friend.  Other than a few photos at the front [none of them recent], several references of his love for the outdoors, and one brief acknowledgment of “his troubles,” the personal connection seemed missing.  Cat and I could count the number of people we recognized on one hand.  A few of his friends from out of town asked me to mail them a copy of the program, but no programs were made.  I understand that everybody has different preferences when it comes to a funeral.  Grieving the unexpected loss of a loved one is difficult enough without the added responsibility of making arrangements.  More than anything his funeral seemed surreal, much like his passing.

I just saw him two weeks ago.  He greeted me with a giant bear hug, kissed my cheek, made fun of me for being antisocial, and jokingly told me to stay out of trouble.  I can’t believe he’s gone.  Warren, you will get the post you deserve.  Rest easy.

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Only recently did I muster up the necessary emotions and mindset to write about Bosi. I have yet to memorialize Ron and Lacy — but I plan to start that process soon.  It was not my intention to end this post on a depressing note, so let me close by saying how grateful I am to have known these friends.  For it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.  How thankful I am for the time I got with them and the memories I’ll forever cherish.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Posted in * R. i. P. *, Adam, Bosi, Death, Family, Grief, Memories, Tatum | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I cling to the 9%!

Last fall I purchased a DNA kit from Ancestry.com, hoping to shed some light on my international genetic makeup.  I spit awkwardly into a plastic test tube, made a  video to commemorate the occasion [bonus points for Adam referencing John Cena], and dropped my specimen in the mail, silently pleading with the gods to let my saliva validate what I already knew deep within my soul:  I am Russian. 

In my haste to cement my status as a maiden of the motherland I forgot to activate the kit.  Oops.  The friendly folks at Ancestry DNA impressed me with their willingness to fix the situation– best believe I scrutinize the customer service I receive over the phone– and sent out a new kit that same day.  Round two went without a hitch.  Come November the results were in, delivered to the corresponding app on my iPhone.

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dna

A basic Anglo-Saxon with 49% British DNA?!  85% Western European?!  Can I get my money back?  My aesthetician [that would be Teri Lewis of Spectacular Skin] was convinced I was black Irish because of my coloring and skin.  She called that one long before I ever provided a sample.  Thanks to her professional opinion I was able to prepare myself to accept that my forebearers might not be washing down their borsch with a double shot of vodka.  Instead I chose to cling to the glorious 9% Eastern European that comprises my genetic makeup.

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Operation Biological Information follows my quest to obtain records involving my adoption.  Since I submitted the required documentation in December 2015, nary a peep has been heard from the powers that be residing in the Cordell Hull Building.  I knew this wasn’t going to be a quick process– yet over a year has passed with zero communication?  That seems a bit excessive.  I need to contact Nashville first thing on Tuesday [tomorrow being MLK Day, a federal holiday] and remind them I’m still here.  Still waiting.  Is it supposed to take this long?  Obviously I have nothing to compare it to but I feel like thirteen months of radio silence is abnormal.  Did I get lost in the shuffle?  Misplaced file perhaps?  Or maybe there was no information and I just wasn’t told?  I’ve gone 31 years without knowing anything about the biologicals.  It’s not as if I’m chomping at the bit, sprinting to the mailbox every day or frantically scrolling through the caller ID on our landline.  I purposely kept my expectations low and prepared for a snail’s pace.  Something about those DNA results invigorated my curiosity…

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I may not know my family but I do know my hair looks fierce!  Massive kudos to Matt McAtee [a.k.a. My Boyfran] for transforming my all but destroyed from years of drugstore box color in half a dozen shades damaged, multicolored coif into a bold, fiery red.  I feel like a rock star!  Feisty, funky, and fun…my luscious locks finally match my personality.  Call Stella Reed Salon to book your appointment with my mane man.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Posted in Adam, Adoption, Birdie, Da Real Homiez, Family, Kids, Matt Boyfran, Megan Childers- favorite roomie, Memphis, Mother Russia, My Parents, Tennessee, YouTube | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

2017

2016 wasn’t a complete disaster.  I experienced gut wrenching pain [death, relapse, difficult life lessons], euphoric joy [recovery, adulting, the perfect job] and learned so much I thought my head would explode.  Even though the vast majority of my news feed couldn’t end last year quick enough, it was just another year for me.  Not one of the best but not one of the worst.  More than anything else 2016 was filled with knowledge for me– collecting experience and gaining wisdom so I could speak my truth. 

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Don’t you just love the optimism associated with new beginnings and a fresh start?!  There’s something magical about advancing a year on the calendar.  How will the next 365 days unfold?  What do I hope to accomplish?  The possibilities are endless!  It’s exciting!

This. Is. My. Year. ⭐️💖🦄
2017’s off to a fabulous start.  Not only did I go to a powerful morning meeting New Year’s Day but I experienced a small miracle.  I have struggled for so long to let go of someone that was not serving me well…my prayer for guidance and strength was answered! 🙏🏻 May this be the year I cleanse myself of toxicity in all forms. I’m ready and willing to be the best me I can be.

No resolutions here.  Instead, I choose to live a daily mantra:  Just for today I will be the best me I can be.”  All I’ve got to worry about is the 24 hours in front of me.  That’s it.  Not yesterday, not next week, not three months from now, but today.  That’s manageable.  My ‘best’ will vary from day to day– but as long as I put my recovery first everything else will fall into place.  With my recovery comes my physical and mental health.  With my recovery comes my spiritual fitness.  With my recovery comes my serenity.  With my recovery comes my ability to be present in my own life.  With my recovery comes my ability to be the  parent, daughter, loved one, friend, significant other, role model, and employee those around me deserve.  Bring it on, 2017.

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I rang in the first day of the new year by claiming my white chip.

Chances are if you’re involved with the recovery community in Memphis, you know the Tower.  Located at Quince and Ridgeway the facility offers six meetings a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.  It’s also five minutes from my house.  People literally spent all day at the Tower, gathering before the fist meeting at 8am and leaving after the final meeting ended at 9pm.  Halfway houses came to this area specifically so they could be within walking distance.  I went to my very first AA meeting at the Tower and it was my home group for many years.

Only after the announcement came that the Tower was relocating did I realize how much I’d taken it for granted.  Not only the geographical proximity, but the strong sobriety in that room and the fact that I was never more than an hour or so from a meeting.  So it was only fitting to attend my first meeting of 2017 at the Tower on its last day at the Balmoral location before moving to Cordova.  And so I did.  1 January 2017 marks my sobriety date.

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What a fantastic idea!  Selecting a positive to represent each week of the year creates a fun family tradition.  A single blue folded up sticky note rests at the bottom of a giant glass jar that once housed pickles.  I look forward to seeing the multicolored papers pile up– a tangible reminder of the many things for which we have to be grateful– and watching my children participate in this shared ritual.  Raising the kids with an ‘attitude of gratitude’ fulfills one of the 30495430543953405434 parenting objectives in my book.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Posted in Changes, Inspiration, Memories, Memphis, Parenting, Recovery | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Thomas Brian Bosi

My best friend, Thomas Bosi, was killed on 13 October 2015.  A drunk driver slammed into him and couldn’t be bothered to stop.  He died on impact.  His tragic, senseless, and untimely death sent me into a downward spiral.  Only recently have I started to process this grief and felt comfortable writing about it in detail.  Now that that my sense of denial has dwindled, I know he’s never coming back.  So I want the world to meet one of my favorite people. 

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Thomas Brian Bosi

Bosi left this planet directly across the street from The Cave, with Methodist North in his line of sight.  What an ironic twist.  I know this fact endlessly amuses him.  “Go figure!” I can hear him say, laughing and rolling his eyes.  “And a drunk chick took me out?!”  As a heavy drinker who had driven under the influence on more than one occasion, he would definitely see the humor.  We certainly kept each other laughing.

There’s nothing funny about the fact that his death could have easily been prevented.  It didn’t take long for the police to arrest the woman responsible for plowing into him.  As they displayed her mugshot on television I began cursing and screaming.  I hated her for what she did to me, what she took from me.  And then it became increasingly complex when I realize I knew this woman.  N0t personally, but someone I consider a friend and inspiration is extremely close with her.  I made the connection and felt as though I’d been sucker punched. Once I put two and two together, I began to obsess over her on Facebook.  I viewed her [mostly public] profile daily.  Seeing a picture of her smiling from ear to ear– seemingly without a care in the world– taken after the accident.  How dare she?!  I despised her.  Zero signs of remorse.  Posting pictures that appeared to be happy and carefree.  I seethed at the tackiness and disrespect.  As far as I was concerned she should be miserable for the rest of her life.  Resentment and bitterness crippled me.

But then I thought of what her loved ones must be enduring.  I cannot even imagine how our ‘mutual friend’ feels.  Knowing that somebody you love is responsible for something so awful must be a hard pill to swallow.  Once I stopped using HER as an excuse to drink my perspective began to shift.  I stopped referring to her as a murderer and saw her as a sick person who behaved irresponsibly while intoxicated and the consequence was fatal.  She did not deliberately set out to kill or injure anyone.  In all likelihood she was in a blackout.  I don’t know what goes on in her brain.  Maybe she was smiling to put on a brave face for her family.  If she has a heart and a conscience– who’s to say she’s not consumed with guilt?  Waking up every morning knowing that a person was dead because of you must be one of the worst feelings of despair.  Struggling to sleep at night because you cannot escape the harsh reality of what you did.

I thank Bosi for teaching me an immensely valuable lesson:  forgiveness.  I let go of the hostility and forgave her.  Thoughts of seeking vengeance or wishing negative karma on this woman disappeared.  She will be punished for her crimes in a court of law.  It is not my place to serve justice.  It is my place; however, to hope that she is able to forgive herself and welcome her with open arms into the rooms of recovery if she so chooses.  His devout Catholic faith would have done the same.

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This isn’t a good photo of any of us but I’m so glad we have it.

I’ll never forget the first time I met Thomas Bosi. Z and I received an exclusive invitation to The Cave.  A gentleman with a bright smile, glasses, a button up white shirt, sat on the bed talking animatedly.  His speech and mannerisms were like none I’d encountered in Raleigh.  He introduced himself with a grin and a firm handshake.  We bonded instantly.  I found myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.  Due to his short stature, unmistakable walk, hyperactivity, speed, and volatility– he was dubbed the ‘Italian Stallion.’  Seeing him always brightened my day.

Z and I parted ways [a fiery incident Bosi never tired of me retelling] and I contemplated my next move.  Bosi invited me to stay with him and his roommates, Jojo and Stuart.  Despite the chaos all around us…those were some of the happiest weeks of my life.  We created a sanctuary among the madness with our own personal oasis.  Every night we’d eat like royalty, candles lit and music blasting, talking and drinking for hours.  If not for the Italian Stallion I never would have met the man who became one of the most significant of my significant others, one of the great loves of my life.  But that’s a story for another day.

My time in Raleigh ended when I went to treatment.  While the boys were mainly boozers, I pursued other substances.  No one was more thrilled that I left than Bosi.  He supported me wholeheartedly in my quest to get clean.  I’ll never forget the time he put on a suit and tie to come visit me in detox, bringing along comfy clothes and magazines.  Or the times he visited me at Grace House, joking about his ‘lemonade stand’ and enthralled by the special friendship I shared with Birdie.  After I graduated he drove out to Germantown multiple times to pick me up and accompany me to AA meetings.  Did he want to go?  I doubt it.  Just like I doubt he had the money to put gas in his car for non-essential travels or insist on always arriving with a present.  But he always made time for me.  He always wanted me to know how special I was to him.  He let me be the center of the universe.

About a month before he passed Joey and I got into fight.  I left Pine Lakes to put distance between us and ran into Bosi. He started laughing and shook his head when I told him that my boyfriend challenged me. During a pause in my venting session he said: “The sooner Jojo learns that Sloane is always right, the easier his life will be.”  That was the last time I ever saw him.

Now all I have are two measly photos and a lifetime of memories.  Allow me to indulge in a few of these….barreling down Jackson Ave. in the car; the daring hotel rescue; psycho lollipop; that glorious dinner at Wendy’s; wreaking havoc in Nutbush; cheese escapades in Kroger; my perpetual bright eyes and bushy tail in the morning; pushing Randy up the hill; the main; doing the simultaneous baseball slides as we hit the spot at the same time; and most of all…TTP!!

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It’s only fitting that he gets my first name tattoo.

Bosi, I miss you.  We all do.  Our neck of the woods will never be the same without you.  Everyone tells stories with you in them.  You’re never far from our memories. Goodwill even gifted us with the Thomas Bosi book!  Larry has it now for safe keeping.  Thank you for showing me unconditional love and friendship.  It warms my heart when people mention how much you loved me.  That feeling was always mutual.

Losing your mother plummeted you into a depression from which you never recovered .  She thought you hung the moon and loved having you around as often as possible.  You doted on her, ensuring all her needs were met, and provided her joy with your company.  Everything went downhill from there.  I find comfort in the fact that you and my mom talked on the phone occasionally.  Did you try to get out of the way when you saw that car barreling towards you?  Or did you never see it coming?  I like to think you were on Cloud 9 out for a moonlit stroll to Walmart and felt no pain….and then you woke up to your beloved mama opening those pearly gates for you.

Thank God for Kevin, who saw the police and identified you, because you did not have your driver’s license.  It hurts me when the news refers to you as the ‘pedestrian’ or ‘dead body’ and mentions ‘the homeless people in the area.’  You deserve to be mentioned– called by name.  Thomas Brian Bosi.  Just because you were living off the grid doesn’t make you any less of a human being.  Your life was just as valuable.  I wish we could have given you the memorial you deserve.  I wish we had a grave to visit.  I wish we had your belongings.

So yes, I think it’s more than appropriate that you are the recipient of my first name tattoo.  Every time I glance at my right wrist I see your name.  That constant, permanent reminder of one of the best friends I’ve ever had.  A man of worth and dignity who taught me so much.in the year and a half he graced my life.  He will not be forgotten.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Posted in * R. i. P. *, Addiction, Birdie, Bosi, Crime, Da Real Homiez, Death, Depression, Jojo Dancer, Love, Memories, Memphis, My Parents, Raleigh | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment