crop top wedding dress
Here's a funny little story that didn't make the cut for my book... And a pic of siblings.
Qene', Rene', Tish, and baby brother Jay.
?
Miss you, T-Boo.
2 Years Ago
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Qene' Manon Jeffers
May 29, 2010
·
Kansas City Here We Come!
I have a secret.
I have bathroom stories.
No. Really. I’m one of those people who can go into the bathroom, any bathroom, any bathroom anywhere - and come out with a story. Silly stories. Stories that sometimes make me weep with laughter. Stories that make my husband shake his head in wonderment. Stories that make my children squeal and cac ... kle, and tell their friends. I don’t know why I’m that way. I just am.
It could be that I take after my grandmother - perhaps it was an art I learned from her. We always had a bathroom story after spending the day with NeeNee. Some were funnier than others, and some were just plain embarrassing, but there was always a story.
Today, I want to tell you about my very first bathroom story. It happened with my NeeNee when I was about six years old. It’s the most innocent of all my bathroom stories – but it’s the beginning of a legacy which I fear will provide much laughter and comical relief at my funeral.....should the Lord tarry.
My grandparents decided to take the three oldest grandchildren, of which I am second, to the zoo in Kansas City. We were so excited! We waited for the trip for weeks. It was going to be a great day making our way from the southwest corner of the state up to the big city. And, we would be riding in my grandparent’s new car! The day just couldn’t get much better than that.
We started out very early in the morning all dressed up in our identically homemade little crop-tops and shorts. The plan was to take turns sitting in the front seat, making a trade off every-so-many miles so that each one of us had a turn sitting in front with NeeNee and Papa. That was the plan. But, there have been many times in my life that carsickness interrupted my plans - on this day, carsickness interrupted my grandparent’s plans.
I started feeling very squeamish while sitting in the backseat waiting for my turn in the front. In fact, I started feeling so squeamish that my grandmother insisted I move immediately up to the front seat. My sisters were certain it was a ploy to keep them from having their turn in the front - but the truth is, I was sick. I was really sick and it was almost too late.
Making the transfer by climbing over the seats was too much movement for me and by the time I got settled-in I was struggling not to gag. My grandmother was one of those people who is always prepared. Being very persnickety, she was prepared for this. We had traveled together many times and she knew. Upon seeing my green complexion and watching my mouth contort and wretch as I tried to wait until we could stop, she reached deep down in her purse and pulled out a large plastic bag. She brought it just for me.
Unable to hold it in any longer my wretching turned into the real deal and she put the plastic bag under my chin just as breakfast, and seemingly everything I’d had to drink or eat in the last week and a half, came UP. I was so thankful she brought the plastic bag.... remember, my grandparents had a new car. I knew I didn’t want to be the one to initiate the new seats and carpet.
Unfortunately, it only took a moment to realize that the plastic bag my grandmother brought was a potato bag – you know, the kind with the little round holes every inch or two all over the bag? I’m afraid so. My frantic grandmother started yelling, “Oren! Oren, pull over! We need to pull over, Oren – I said, PULL OVER!”
No, we didn’t have a wreck but my grandfather did have to do some fancy race-car driving to bring the car to a halt at the side of the road. NeeNee and I tried to make a quick exit the minute the car came to a stand-still. I can still see her standing at the side of the road holding that very full plastic bag with puke gushing out of all of those little holes. We couldn’t help but laugh as she threw the ugly mess into the brush and weeds. It took several minutes to clean up and then we were on our way once again. crop top wedding dress
Oh, golly! It was a long trip. I thought we’d never get there.
Not long after arriving at the zoo, my grandmother asked my Papa to wait for us while she took all three of us girls to the restroom.
Restroom?! I couldn’t believe it! We had just arrived! We’d been in the car all morning, except for the little fiasco of vomiting at the side of the road. It surely couldn’t be time to go to the restroom! The closer we got to the door the slower I walked and I began to cry. “Please NeeNee, please. Don’t make me go to the restroom. I’m not tired. I promise. I don’t want to rest. I don’t need to take a nap in the restroom.”
In my mind I envisioned this long stretch of a room with row after row of cots covered in white sheets and pillows! I could just imagine all the grandmas and little children lined up for a nap, snoozing the day away while everyone else had fun at the zoo. I thought she was surely punishing me for puking in her car. I did not want this day to be spoiled by napping in the restroom!
Well, it didn’t take long for me to discover that in this restroom there were rows and rows of white toilets instead of sheet covered cots! What a relief that was! I had never heard it called restroom before. But, yes! I did need to go potty and I gladly found my own stall while listening to my NeeNee loudly caution, “Girls! Girls! Don’t touch anything in there....and make sure you flush with your foot.....”
(In the picture above I am first on the left, then Rene’ and Tish. Jay is the baby-boy....the only boy of six children....two of whom were not born yet! I was six years old in this picture.)
Qene' Manon Jeffers
May 29, 2010
·
Kansas City Here We Come!
I have a secret.
I have bathroom stories.
No. Really. I’m one of those people who can go into the bathroom, any bathroom, any bathroom anywhere - and come out with a story. Silly stories. Stories that sometimes make me weep with laughter. Stories that make my husband shake his head in wonderment. Stories that make my children squeal and cac ... kle, and tell their friends. I don’t know why I’m that way. I just am.
It could be that I take after my grandmother - perhaps it was an art I learned from her. We always had a bathroom story after spending the day with NeeNee. Some were funnier than others, and some were just plain embarrassing, but there was always a story.
Today, I want to tell you about my very first bathroom story. It happened with my NeeNee when I was about six years old. It’s the most innocent of all my bathroom stories – but it’s the beginning of a legacy which I fear will provide much laughter and comical relief at my funeral.....should the Lord tarry.
My grandparents decided to take the three oldest grandchildren, of which I am second, to the zoo in Kansas City. We were so excited! We waited for the trip for weeks. It was going to be a great day making our way from the southwest corner of the state up to the big city. And, we would be riding in my grandparent’s new car! The day just couldn’t get much better than that.
We started out very early in the morning all dressed up in our identically homemade little crop-tops and shorts. The plan was to take turns sitting in the front seat, making a trade off every-so-many miles so that each one of us had a turn sitting in front with NeeNee and Papa. That was the plan. But, there have been many times in my life that carsickness interrupted my plans - on this day, carsickness interrupted my grandparent’s plans.
I started feeling very squeamish while sitting in the backseat waiting for my turn in the front. In fact, I started feeling so squeamish that my grandmother insisted I move immediately up to the front seat. My sisters were certain it was a ploy to keep them from having their turn in the front - but the truth is, I was sick. I was really sick and it was almost too late.
Making the transfer by climbing over the seats was too much movement for me and by the time I got settled-in I was struggling not to gag. My grandmother was one of those people who is always prepared. Being very persnickety, she was prepared for this. We had traveled together many times and she knew. Upon seeing my green complexion and watching my mouth contort and wretch as I tried to wait until we could stop, she reached deep down in her purse and pulled out a large plastic bag. She brought it just for me.
Unable to hold it in any longer my wretching turned into the real deal and she put the plastic bag under my chin just as breakfast, and seemingly everything I’d had to drink or eat in the last week and a half, came UP. I was so thankful she brought the plastic bag.... remember, my grandparents had a new car. I knew I didn’t want to be the one to initiate the new seats and carpet.
Unfortunately, it only took a moment to realize that the plastic bag my grandmother brought was a potato bag – you know, the kind with the little round holes every inch or two all over the bag? I’m afraid so. My frantic grandmother started yelling, “Oren! Oren, pull over! We need to pull over, Oren – I said, PULL OVER!”
No, we didn’t have a wreck but my grandfather did have to do some fancy race-car driving to bring the car to a halt at the side of the road. NeeNee and I tried to make a quick exit the minute the car came to a stand-still. I can still see her standing at the side of the road holding that very full plastic bag with puke gushing out of all of those little holes. We couldn’t help but laugh as she threw the ugly mess into the brush and weeds. It took several minutes to clean up and then we were on our way once again. crop top wedding dress
Oh, golly! It was a long trip. I thought we’d never get there.
Not long after arriving at the zoo, my grandmother asked my Papa to wait for us while she took all three of us girls to the restroom.
Restroom?! I couldn’t believe it! We had just arrived! We’d been in the car all morning, except for the little fiasco of vomiting at the side of the road. It surely couldn’t be time to go to the restroom! The closer we got to the door the slower I walked and I began to cry. “Please NeeNee, please. Don’t make me go to the restroom. I’m not tired. I promise. I don’t want to rest. I don’t need to take a nap in the restroom.”
In my mind I envisioned this long stretch of a room with row after row of cots covered in white sheets and pillows! I could just imagine all the grandmas and little children lined up for a nap, snoozing the day away while everyone else had fun at the zoo. I thought she was surely punishing me for puking in her car. I did not want this day to be spoiled by napping in the restroom!
Well, it didn’t take long for me to discover that in this restroom there were rows and rows of white toilets instead of sheet covered cots! What a relief that was! I had never heard it called restroom before. But, yes! I did need to go potty and I gladly found my own stall while listening to my NeeNee loudly caution, “Girls! Girls! Don’t touch anything in there....and make sure you flush with your foot.....”
(In the picture above I am first on the left, then Rene’ and Tish. Jay is the baby-boy....the only boy of six children....two of whom were not born yet! I was six years old in this picture.)