Welcome to my world!
Hello, and welcome to Suga’Mama Diaries! You’ve found yourself at this blog site and may be thinking that you have found your new Sugar Mama! Guess what? You’d be wrong. There is a huge difference between a Sugar Mama and Suga’Mama. A Sugar Mama is likely the older lady friend that grants your wishes in return for favors of a sexual nature. Suga’Mama is me! I’m a Southern Grandmother of one little boy; my little Sugar Lump. I was born to be a grandmother. God created me for this purpose, I just know it! I am having way too much fun. I’ve been a lot of things in my lifetime. I started life as a daughter, became a sister, a wife, mother and now grandmother. In between those nearly 50 years of living, I achieved an Associates of Arts Degree and an Associates Degree in nursing. I have practiced as a registered nurse for half of my life. I never in my wildest dreams wanted to be in the medical field. I still don’t! My husband, also known as Grumpy (a story for another entry), insisted that I go to nursing school, in case something happened and we needed me to provide for our family. That’s it. That is why. No big sign from God to go forth and heal people. My hubby took me by the hand and literally walked me into that school of nursing and said, “Here she is! Make a nurse out of her!” A little over 2 years later, it was a done deal. I thought that since I had done the deed I may as well function in an area that was really close to my heart; babies! I have ALWAYS loved babies! Labor and Delivery nursing held the promise of so much joy and happiness, for the most part, it seemed the perfect fit for me. I got to enjoy that area for a little over a year and then all HAYELL broke loose and I landed myself a job in a local, county hospital. I waded through years of geriatric nursing, med-surg type stuff, answering call bells and in the early days, even rode in the back of an ambulance to pick up patients that needed hospital transport. NOT my favorite thing. Not even a little bit. Do you KNOW how frightening it can be to walk into a home, in an unknown situation, to find someone sitting there with a hatchet aimed directly at your head? Can you just imagine how fast this overweight, naïve, white woman turned and ran from that room? There is no way to describe the kind of fear that engulfed my soul. As the years passed, working the ER became the area of choice, simply because those patients changed hourly. At least at first. After a while, pretty quickly, actually, the faces became all too familiar. They were in and out over and over again; same face, different day. There were many bad shifts, lots of good shifts, and more than a handful of shifts that scared the crap outta me. There were blessings and days where I felt cursed. I was able to help in the saving of lives and I was present when many people passed from this life to the next. The range of emotions that cover you in those moments can be so overwhelming that you don’t know what to do with yourself. Often, just coming home to familiar surroundings was not comfort enough. Days and nights would run together as some tragedy or other kept me awake. Then, life would get back to some sort of normal. Things really do come in threes; death is one of those things. After a stretch of awful nursing episodes, there would be a period of calm. During those times, the mind could catch a break from the stress and strain of caring for people who didn’t always appreciate what you were trying to do for them. Many moons ago, I was young and better able to fight the 12-hour shifts, recovering from the abuse that nursing heaps upon a person. I moved on from the ER to a desk job, supervising a First Aid Department. Finally, after the loss of my father -in-law, the deaths of two young men who were like my own sons, the death of my own father, the thirteenth surgery for me and one life-altering surgery for my mother, I couldn’t take anymore. My body was broken and it became a struggle just to move. I now find myself unemployed and constantly in a state of recuperation. My mother requires some monitoring that I am unable to do on the level that I am trained for. Thank goodness for a sister and other family members. Praise God my mother still has her mind and can do a lot for herself.
In the midst of all the trials and times of trouble, God saw fit to bless our family with this precious little boy. He has brought so much laughter and love to our lives that we don’t feel deserving of. I was finally able to breathe a deep sigh of contentment in the moment he arrived. A feeling of finally reaching the pinnacle of some steep mountain I had been climbing for years. He was what I had been waiting for. The chance to love my own children on another level and the chance to love this tiny new human as a grandmother; his Suga’Mama. He WILL be spoiled, loved unconditionally and given every last breath from my body if he needs it. If he has siblings and cousins they will receive the same attention. I want a yard full of grandchildren so that I can live my life with smiles and laughter, soaking up the love of lots of little people who need to know that they are each my favorite.
Am I crazy? Maybe. Do I care? Definitely not. I tell my kids all the time that the reason I had them was so I could have grandchildren. So far, so good! I’m not old yet, but I have a good start on my gray granny bun. I’m still young enough to enjoy every moment I can get with any and all little ones.
Bring it on, offspring. Bring. It. On.