Morning Suprises

The world may have just stopped for a brief moment. I definitely heard the sigh of an angel nearby. Even my girl looked at me with a raised eyebrow. My seventeen-year old boy, as he was gathering his stuff and getting ready to slide the door shut on the van said good-bye.

Then he said
I love you, Mom.
Big smile and all.

Good Lord, I thought I was gonna cry right there in front of the high school. I think my day just might be complete; for that matter, maybe my life. Is this really what motherhood is about? Those brief moments in time that make the dirty bathroom and piles of laundry dug out of the closet worth it?

I can't decide if my life is really that pathetic or just really that special.

He's off to his big competition. I know he's nervous, but I know he is also very, very excited and counting on me to get his uniform dropped off in time (and yes, the pants have been perfectly {?} hemmed with the magic of some kind of fabric tape). The whole time I was driving him to school I was wondering why I was having to bring this uniform in later anyway. The orginal plan was so it wouldn't get wrinkled throughout the school day. Then I saw him hauling his guitar in with him. So he can carry that guitar around half the day but not a uniform on a hanger? Obviously, an electric guitar in a case is much cooler than khaki pants and a shirt.

Of course, none of that matters now.
All is right with the world.
Those kids are something else.

Yesterday I was helping the middle with an already late project... lined him up with a folder and thirty cents to take care of business at the library. I padded him on the shoulder and said One of these days you're not gonna have your mom helping you out with every little detail. He thought for a moment and said,

I can't decide if that's a good thing or not.

Boy, isn't that the truth. I know my mom is always there for me, but I also know at some point she had to cut the cord and let me loose. One of these days I'm going to have to talk to her about that. My dad, too. My husband refers to the whole raising kids thing as letting out the leash. We let it out a little at a time, reel it back in as needed, and prepare for the day when we completely remove it.

Of course, our daughter no doubt feels as if her leash is the shortest of all.
Then again, the girl's only twelve.
At this point, there's zero guilt about keeping her close to home.

Besides, I know she loves me... right?

Boys That Grow Into Men

Today I am going to attempt the unthinkable.

I am going to sew. Or at least something similar to it. Technically I'm going to Hobby Lobby first in search of some kind of magical tape that my mother suggested. She spent about ten minutes last night on facebook chat giving me step-by-step instructions. I was utterly confused, but she was patient and kept right on going. You would think I'm about to piece together a quilt or something. Nope. I just need to hem some pants.

Hey, I've never pretended to be the seamstress of the family.
That's all my mom, and she is nowhere near me.
I'm all on my own here and am seriously considering the benefits of a stapler.

My boy is depending on me, though, so surely I can pull this off without him having to worry about random staples poking him around the ankles. He stands somewhere around 5'11" and these pants are something like six inches too long. He'll have on steel-toe boots and be tromping around a machine shop so surely no one will be inspecting whether or not his hem is straight.

Except for my daughter.
Who will report back to my mom.
I hope I get this right.

It's a big weekend for the oldest, our machine tool wizard. He was hand-picked to represent his machine class in a district competition that could lead to a national win. Wouldn't that be something? He's got a fresh hair cut, neatly pressed (though yet un-hemmed) uniform, and big dreams of a future career.

God's got a plan.

It's another big weekend for another young man I know. I last really knew this boy was he absolutely hating the rules of eighth grade grammar. I remember him well, though. Always polite, always quick to participate, always willing to try. Today he is a young man fresh out of high school and basic training/school. I was chatting with my mom last night (in the midst of her how-to instructions) when I was alerted to another incoming chat. Every now and then I'll get a message from a former student wanting to know how I am.

(Remember yesterday's post? It's those same kids that forever live in my heart.).

Anyway, this message wasn't to ask how I was doing, but to basically say goodbye. It about broke my heart and yet, that's the way life is. He's heading off to Afghanistan this Sunday. Combat medic. Limited communications via postal mail only. Fifteen months. What's a teacher to do?

I told him I would pray for him and to remember what I've always said to any kid I've come in contact with, God's got a plan. I said to lean on Him and just go over there and do what needs to be done. I encouraged him to experience life on the other side of the world and to let me know when he got back. His simple reply? You'll be waiting a long time. Fifteen months is a long time, but particularly to a young man who is about to embark into the unknown, I think. We said our goodbyes and signed off with those sappy little smiley faces and I fought back tears.

You spend time with these kids and then they're not kids anymore. They're adult people doing adult things. I went to bed and thought of a zillion other things I should have said. God's got a plan? Is that really the best I can come up with? And yet, there is no other way to say it.

He does have a plan.
From the day we are born.
We just have to walk it out.

Adam is doing just that and I have no doubt that God will use this gentle man in a powerful way. I'll just be glad when he pops back in on chat to tell me he's home. Until then, I'll be blogging and praying and trying to put a straight hem in a pair of pants my boy needs by Thursday. Surely the same God who knows the number of hairs on my head can help cut an even line.

Even so, I think I'll keep the stapler on stand-by.

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
      you formed me in my mother's womb.
   I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!       

Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
      I worship in adoration—what a creation!
   You know me inside and out,
      you know every bone in my body;
   You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
      how I was sculpted from nothing into something.    

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;       

all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
   The days of my life all prepared
      before I'd even lived one day.

Psalm 139:13-16 (The Message)

Don't Be A Hater (And Keep Your Cialis)

I'm losing my good humor rather quickly. I can't decide if I should write a strongly worded letter or buy a t-shirt my son likes: I got haters everywhere I go. I guess it would be best for me to follow my own advice.

Pick your battles.

I try to write about this and I hit a stumbling block everytime. An attempt a few days ago ended up with me deleting everything. Even now I'm seriously tempted to drop the whole thing. Not because I don't think the topic is worthy of my time, but because I think the topic should be talked about... not just read.

Have I mentioned that I'm a natural-born speaker? It's crazy, I know. Shy as a kid, not good with one-on-one conversations, but put me in front of a group of people with a working sound system and I'm all there. I'm available for ladies meetings, youth events, group therapy, etc., etc. etc. (And I'm only half kidding here. I've done everything except the group therapy. I won't go near that based simply on the fact that someone would eventually realize that I need to be in the circle, not directing it).

At any rate, I would love to get a group of adults together, particularly adults in positions of authority that work with young people, and point out one very obvious fact:

You don't help the children by talking about the children to other children.

I have seen this scenario repeated so many times in so many areas. Grown-ups trying to play the cool card with the kids they are responsible for. Any kid that has ever had me for a teacher will agree that they always heard these words from my lips: I am not here to be your friend. You have friends. I am here to teach you. Sometimes you're going to like me; most of the time you won't. That is okay. I always found this to be important because otherwise, it's too easy to get caught up in the popularity factor and find yourself competing with a bunch of young people. They have enough competition without insecure adults competing for attention as well. 

(And besides, some of those same kids who complained about how "unfair" and "uncool" you were will come back later in life thanking you for being tough with them... that, my friend, is when all the world rejoices and you get that warm, fuzzy feeling that no popular-club membership can compete with).

I'm sorry. Do you see why I've started and stopped this entry so many times? I just get frustrated when I see a kid confused because some misguided grown-up was sharing his/her unsolicited opinion (about this particular kid) to another classmate. And when other grown-ups look down their nose at my child because his hair is long? Well, I've already said a few things about that here and worked out my own issues. I'll just appreciate it when others do the same.

Yep, it's been one of those days. I'd complain about the cold, but then I might feel bad for rejoicing over the warm weather later. For now I think I'll go stir up some pancakes for dinner and wait for the show. I can't wait for one military man to hear what another military man said about his kid. I may not have to write that strongly worded letter after all.

And one side note: to the person spamming my inbox with the witty comments and free cialis offers? My husband and I are good in that department. Really good. Leave your nice comment, but take your free samples and move on.

I think I just found my humor again. =)



Cold Feet

My feet are cold and I'm trying to figure out why. Last week I was fighting the urge to kick on the a/c. Today I lit up the fireplace. Twice. The electric blanket that I took off our bed three days ago is now back on top. I'd plug it in but that would require me moving the mattress and dealing with the dust under the bed. I already ignored that once; I definitely don't want to face it again.

 I'm hoping this cold snap will go away quick. After all, I just painted my toenails the other day for the official start of flip flop season... there's no way I'm hiding them under fuzzy socks now.

Somewhere there's a beach chair waiting.

And I want my toes to be ready.

Friends

Thank God for friends.

I had the best time tonight.
And last night, too.

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Seriously, who needs sit-ups?

Our kids looked at us funny when we said we going out.
Stranger things have happened other than parents having friends.

Three and a half years we have been here.
Three and a half long, l-o-n-e-l-y years.

I love my husband.
I love my kids.

But my, oh my, I love having friends.

Technology and Me

I am one of those people who swear I will never cave in to any type of new-fangled gadget. No matter what comes out or how it promises to make my life easier, I convince myself that simple is better and if it ain't broke, then don't replace it.

And then I always end up getting whatever it was I swore I would never get. Examples? Cell phone. Computer. Laptop. Nook. (And by the way, this is not top-of-the-line stuff, so save your crow bars and illegal entry methods for quality that would actually be worth the jail time and bullet wounds).

The cell phone I caved in pretty easy to when I began driving a distance from home to work. Having said that, though, I am seriously considering dropping all cell phone lines and hooking my husband up with a pay-as-you-go type plan. I never go anywhere anymore, a land line with unlimited local/long distance would cut about 60% off our phone bill, and yes... my oldest kid (who has a cell) and the youngest kid (who dreams of a cell) are twitching just a bit at Mom's newest plan to interfere with their social life. The middle, thank goodness, could really care less. Now let me mess with the wireless service in the house and he would protest loudly, rest assured.

Anyway, the computer and internet are here to stay. The kids do so much homework online that the price of gas alone (if I had to shuttle them back and forth to the library) more than convinces me that is one bill worth the cost and besides, I might start twitching if I didn't have access to the blog world or facebook. The laptop was a no-brainer because it effectively stopped me from yelling at the kids to get off the computer. Some things don't require much thought no matter how much I may have thought that I didn't need them.

(Yeah. That made a lot of sense).

The nook took awhile. I love to read. I love books. I love the smell of books. I was 175% against the lame-brain who thought to take away the feel of a book in my hands. Then one day certain aspects of the e-reader began to appeal to me... books purchased in an instant no matter what time of day or night (and cheaper at that); e-books available from the library with no fines for overdue material; easy to stow (and a whole lot more lighter) in my purse... yep, the more I thought about it the more the whole idea appealed to me. I love my nook. I still pick up cheap books at sales and such, and not every book is available in the e-book format from the library, but I am absolutely positively happy with my gadget.

Ahhhh, but allow me to tell you about my latest techno-purchase that was a belated anniversary gift. It's something that I have often said was crazy and lazy and just way-too-overpriced for me to ever think about getting one... and then I tried it, fell in love with it, and had to have it.

A Keurig coffee machine.
Ready in a minute.
Instantaneous satisfaction.

And it's cheaper than my beloved Starbucks Via.
Sometimes math is a good thing.
Especially when it's at Kohl's and you have a 30% off coupon.

I think I might want an i-pod next.
But never the i-pad.
That would be just plain crazy.

Magic In A Cup

If I had three wishes this morning, they would be:

My kitchen would always stay clean.
My social calendar would always be full.
My life would never change.

Of course, that third wish would completely cancel out the first two.

My kitchen never stays clean. Seriously. The only time it looks spotless and fresh off the page of a magazine is between the hours of 10-3pm and then quite possibly for a full hour after the supper dishes are done. Cabinet doors are always left open, empty cereal boxes sit on a shelf, and drained orange juice containers sit on the counter right above the trash can. Like six inches. I will never figure that one out. Or the empty cereal boxes inside the cabinet. These are the little things that drive me crazy.

My social life is non-existent. I don't have lunch with friends. I'm not in any clubs or on any committees. I am a homebody. The biggest thing added to my life lately is a new walking routine that a friend and I are doing. And I wouldn't even call it a routine, more like when we are both home at the same time kind-of-thing. I enjoy it just the same, though. My evenings typically consist of running interference between the three kids or transporting a desperate reader to the library for a new book. Any type of break from that is a welcome break.

I was talking to myself this morning after I dropped off the kids at school. Grumbling about open cabinet doors and wasted gas and how I am not picking up anybody's underwear even if their girlfriends are coming over tonight. I put my planned grocery store trip on hold so I could come home and breathe and find that magic that somehow exists in the first cup of coffee. The cat followed me out to the screened porch and watched in fascination as I grumbled even more while shaking pollen from the cushions. While the coffee was brewing I plopped down and looked around.

That's when it hit me. For all my grumbling about the kitchen and dirty underwear and kids that I think don't appreciate their mother, I wouldn't change a thing. All those things that drive me crazy remind me that I have what I always wanted.

A good man.
Children.
My own home.

If the kitchen stayed clean and my social life was overflowing, I might be missing out on the very things that, for me, make my life complete. No kind of perfection is worth that.

I told you there was magic in that first cup.
Coffee makes the world go round.
But I'm still not picking up dirty underwear.

My Friend Beth

In the world of blogging, I have a friend (and yes, I would call her that even though we've never met) named Beth. I think I would even let her hug me even though if you've learned anything about me, you know I'm not the huggy type.

Anyway.

Beth's entry this morning is something worth repeating many times over. Some will like it; some may not. Some will agree; some might protest. But I think there's alot of truth in it. I remember a time many, many years ago when I lost a good friend. We were both pregnant at the same time and we had a lot of fun together. She wasn't really happy, though, in her marriage and would grumble often and loudly. At some point along the way I found myself grumbling often and loudly as well. One day I began to wonder why I was grumbling at all.

Time passed.
Babies were born.
Our friendship faded.

Her marriage didn't last while I worked on repairing some of the cracks my own grumbling had created during that brief period of time. Don't get me wrong; this isn't about broken marriages or marriages that last... I just think Beth's entry is a good reminder to all of us. Her thermostat/temperature analogy hits it right on the mark, at least in my opinion.

And with that, I'll shut up and let her speak.
I hope you all get as much from it as I did.
You'll probably want to hug her, too.

http://iwannabeafarmer.blogspot.com/2011/03/powerful-women.html

Free Desserts And Wedded Bliss

I'm sitting here at three in the morning, wide awake with a glass of water at my side and the cat dutifully perched upon my lap. The house is quiet with only the occasional moans and groans of a ice-maker kicking out the ice. Not a snore to be heard. I guess all the events of the day have kept me up. We had such a good anniversary that I hate to see the day end.

Our daughter started our day off with breakfast in bed. Yeah, she's good like that. Scrambled eggs, muffins, coffee, and milk. I am soooooo glad I took the time to show her a thing or two in the kitchen (and to my grandma, who was never afraid to stand a three-year old on a stool in her own kitchen or put a quilting needle in her hand... but that's a story for another day). We went to church and as my husband and I sat there holding hands, I thought about many things.

The amazing healing process our girl went through years ago.
My husband's family and the drama they bring to our lives.
The lady in front of me who wouldn't stop flipping her hair.

(And I know I get distracted easily, but seriously... how many times can a girl flip her hair over the back of her chair? Apparently, a lot).

Afterward, we went to the mall to appease the masses (that would be the kids), shared a gyro (which the husband first fell in love with in Germany), and aimlessly wandered in and out of stores. We were shocked at the adult themes we found in one novelty store-

and a side note here, take the time to know exactly what is in your local mall. I hate the mall. I'm not a fan of mall shopping. Therefore I always take a seat at Barnes & Noble and read while my kids roam freely. Not a good idea. At least not at first. This particular "novelty"  store had adult toys, games, the whole XXX theme without the magazines and movies, all on full display. No i.d. required to walk in (nothing posted about purchasing stuff).  The place was full of kids and by kids, I mean teens that looked as young as our fourteen-year old. When we talked to the kids about later, they were all too aware of the place (except our girl, thank the Lord, but then again, she is always with me reading) and immediately looked at me shocked, "Mom, you should NOT have went in there."

What's my point? The kids knew; I didn't. Know your mall. And know how to write a respectful and yet objectionable letter to the mall owners, elected county officials, and all the local moms in your area.

-but back to my day. After the mall and the husband's discussion with the kids regarding the above-mentioned store, we went home and basically did nothing until the time came for us to go out to dinner. Alone. The best meal ever. We had the best server, the best food, the best free dessert (I'm thinking we spent so much on dinner the guy must of thought there might be something to these two random people having such a meal on a Sunday night... he wished us a Happy Anniversary with a huge piece of some chocolate brownie-mousse concoction that is currently waiting in my fridge). We sat there and ate and talked while holding hands and I thought about many things.

The heart attack my husband had our sixth year.
The Great Move of the fourteenth year.
The person sitting at the end of the table next to us wearing a graduation cap.

(Yes, again with the distractions, but watching her struggle to keep her tassel out of her pasta was a tad bit entertaining).

Then we came home to a mess. Dirty dishes piled up. Dishwasher not unloaded. I got frustrated and voiced that frustration loudly and sarcastically. The husband pulled me aside and whispered, "Eighteen years." Yep. He has a way of diffusing a situation.

So now I sit here with the clock pushing the four o'clock hour. The kitchen was cleaned long ago. The cat abandoned me to chase his tail around the living room floor.  One kid has got up and looked at me strangely, "Mom, do you KNOW what time it is?"

Why yes, oh child of mine, I know exactly what time it is. I just hate for the day to end.

Pollen Makes Me Cry

Walking outside this morning, I noticed a familiar dusting on almost everything.

Pollen.

The green rocking chairs have a yellow glow.
My footprints are clearly seen on the brown porch.
I watched a cloud of the powdery stuff being shook off the blanket on the swing.

Not to mention my eyes itch.
And water.
And slightly burn.

Spring has sprung.

I never had any kind of seasonal allergies until I moved south. Our middle child did. Horrible, horrible allergies guaranteed to make his life miserable every spring and fall not matter what kind of medication he was on. Here? Nothing. No allergies of any kind for him. It's funny how things like that are. I guess it just goes to show that good can come out of almost any situation.

And spring is pretty here.
Azaleas starting to bloom.
Tea olives smelling sweet.

Of course, spring was pretty where I was at, too. Spring is pretty everywhere. It's that whole coming-out-of-the-dead-of-winter thing. Life renewing itself. Spring break. Easter. Cool mornings and cooler nights. Yep, it's hard to have a bad attitude in the springtime.

Summer will be here soon enough.

Heat.
Humidity.
Irritability.

Better enjoy it while it's here, pollen and all.
Just keep the tissues and eye drops handy.

Happy Spring!

Watching The Man Work

I'm sitting across the table from my husband who is working on his day job stuff and wondering about his t-shirt: i love my wife. Was that a getting-dressed-in-the-dark choice or a deliberate decision? Seeing as how eighteen years ago today we were driving seven hundred miles to my hometown to get married, I'll choose to call it a deliberate decision. Of course, that was back when we actually had money and no kids.

And I drove a Mustang. Good times.

We love to tell the story of how we met. How two people from two different states met up in yet another state is interesting enough... add into that the fact that I went through basic training with his ex-girlfriend adds another twist. And the part where I was assigned to an Air Force base that was named what my eventual married name would be? Crazy.

Oh, and he was dating the girl I was replacing at my duty station. Guess I took over in more ways than one.

Yeah, I know. It sounds kind of twisted and maybe a bit devious on my part, but rest assured, all these things came to light after the fact. I will never forget the day I was just trying to make conversation with this southern guy that I hardly liked and dropped a name or two about my early training. His jaw hit the floor and we hit it off. Thirty-some days later I asked him to marry me.

Three times.
He finally said yes.
I'm persistent like that.

And now he sits across from me scratching his head in thought while punching numbers on a calculator. We've come quite a little ways from having all that money and no kids. The Mustang only lives in pictures now while a minivan takes up space on the driveway. When we finally do have a few extra dollars to spare, the kids manage to snatch it up for annoying things like braces or doctor visits. The only thing left from our military days are plaques hanging on the wall.

So far I'm liking the life we've managed to pull out of such a short courtship.
In just a few days, we'll officially celebrate that eighteenth year with dinner out.
But I kinda like nights just like this one best.

i love my husband.

Happy Birthday, Mom

It's my mom's birthday.

It's also St. Patrick's Day which means I've already got pinched.

By my daughter,
Who thought it was very funny.
These mother-daughter relationships are complicated things, I'm finding out.

One day she loves me,
The next day I'm not sure she likes me.
I say No alot, but then I usually give in.

It was no to make-up, which she now wears.
Then no to my clothes; she wears them now, too.

Her room is a mess. I can walk in on any given day and find clothes (yes, sometimes mine) strewn about the room. Eyeshadow cases litter her bed and her desk is a collection of markers and nail polish and glitter.

And for the most part, I love every minute of it.

I love watching her grow and listening to her talk (she'll love that line). The way she flips her hair and snarls her nose and shakes her head. It all makes me laugh when she's not looking. She gets mad and walks off in a huff and shuts her door so everyone can hear. She's alot like me. And then she sews and creates and takes care of her brothers and me and her dad. She is my mom. She bakes cookies and washes the cat and watches for tomatoes on the vine. She's my grandma all over again.

Yep, these mother-daughter relationships are something to behold. One day, if I'm very lucky, she will look at me the way I look at my mom. Always a mother, but now a best friend. A person I can't go a day without talking to in some form or fashion. I like knowing she's there.

So Happy Birthday, Mom.
Hope you didn't get pinched.

Three Days Quiet

Upon entering the house today after school, the middle sniffs and says, "Smells like a mixture of clorox and bar-be-que."

He's very perceptive.
The house has been cleaned and supper is in the crock pot.
Things don't get much better than that.

Except for the fact that something doesn't feel right. I'm not sure what that something is, but it is sure to reveal itself. It's about time for it. We've had exactly three days with zero drama.

It's the calm before the storm.
How's that for positive thinking?
I can recognize the cycle, though.

Now lest you chastise me for being all gloom and doom, a recap of my life might be helpful. Nine hundred miles away from my family who have had no serious health emergencies lately; a husband who despises his job; same husband with the self-invited family guests for Easter; my unemployment status nearing its two year mark; three kids ranging in ages from practically-a-teenager to practically-an-adult; and one very moody cat who has been lately obsessed with squirrels.

Yep. Three quiet days?
No teacher emails. No bills unpaid.
No van in the transmission shop.

I wonder how many of you are screaming, "Stop!" "Knock on wood!" "Speak life!" I know all those, and I know you're right. But can we all just stop kidding ourselves for a brief moment?

Stuff happens. The earth quakes. People get sick. Kids made dumb decisions. Mechanical things fail. The cat will yak. Pure and simple, day-to-day life living with other people. All that chaotic stuff makes me appreciate the quiet all the more. And there's the good part right there. Appreciation. Without all the mess that sometimes clutters my life, I might never appreciate the times when the clutter is non-existent.

But I'm telling you, something is going on.
With one particular kid.
A mom just knows this kind of stuff.

And if I'm wrong?
Then it's a win-win.
I'll take another three days of quiet.

Tony's Journey: Volume Four

I'm sitting here thinking about my brother tonight. Today was his first day back to work since his surgery a few weeks ago. His updates via Facebook have gotten fewer and farther between. Like he says, though, there are only so many ways a person can say the same thing:

March 1, 2011
Well I found my limit on my new stomach being full. 1 cup of chicken broth and 1/2 cup of sugar free jello. It took about 1 hour to eat it all. And man am I stuffed. Seriously, I am stuffed. LOL That is just wrong. Oh by the way down to 355 that's 30 pounds in 19 days.


March 7, 2011
Well here is an update on my weight loss, started out at 385 on the 11th of Feb. This morning Mar 7, I am down to 349. Since my surgery I am losing a 1 pound a day. I am really bored here at the house. I am ready to go back to work. Man did I just say that. So that is 36 pounds in 25 days. And I haven't been able to exercise yet. I guess that isn't to bad.


March 11, 2011
Well it has been 1 month since my weight loss started, and 19 days since my surgery. I have went from 385 to 345 in this amount of time. I am down to losing 1 pound a day and I am not exercising yet. I start back to work on Monday, so I will be getting alot of walking in so hopefully the weight will come off even more.

I have to be honest about one thing, if anyone is every thinking about this. YOU BETTER BE SURE YOU WANT TO LIVE THIS LIFE STYLE. I really love food, I was obsessed with food. and here lately it has really taking its toll on my mental head ...games. I know it is all in my head but man it is really hard to watch people eat what you love to eat. My side kick keeps telling me that I will be able to eat these foods again in about 6 weeks, but I just won't be able to stuff myself. Am I happy about losing the weight, YEP. Would I have been able to do this on my own with no surgery? NOPE. So yes I did the right thing I just have to make myself understand it will get better and I will feel better.
I hope to lose 30 pounds a month. I am hoping to be down to 320's by the end of the month. As always I will keep you all up to date. DON'T GET ME WRONG. I am happy I did this, it is just tough sometimes to understand that it is the real deal and there is no turning back.


So Tony, although I can't say I know what you're going through, I can say that I firmly believe you will finish what you started. I remember what you said your goal was... to get healthy and stay that way.

And I know you've got all the motivation you need.



I don't think we need any more pictures tonight.
This one says it all.
Love you, BROTHER.
Hang in there.

Carrots And A Poem

The Law of Parenting says that if you have something else you need to be working on, the kids will pick that very moment to want to hang out.

Particularly if they have friends over and the beautiful weather makes the screened-in porch the ideal place to be.

And if you have two papers to write (and the fact that those two papers could have been finished last week is irrelevant)... well, that just makes the temptation to smother the mother even more appealing.

Now I have a kid flicking carrots at me all while trying to flatter me. Seriously?

Mom, you're so great,

I wish I could be you.

So beautiful,

Oh, you know it's true.

I love my life.



Cat vs. Squirrel

Do squirrels grumble when they're happy or mad, or both? I've got a couple behind me barking non-stop at one another and driving the cat nuts.

Ahhhh... weekend entertainment.

And now the dumb cat is inside. He went barreling off the porch to tackle a squirrel only to pull off a few somersaults in the pine straw.

Guess I shouldn't call him dumb. He's only acting on that built-in instinct of a cat.

Kind of like the hormones of a teenager.
Or the slow moving line that I always pick at the grocery store.

Some things are just gonna happen no matter how much you try to control it or avoid it, if that makes any sense.

He's a mad kitty now.

Troubled Times

Now my soul is troubled, and distressed, and what shall I say? John 12:27

I went to bed troubled and I woke up troubled. The morning news has left me more troubled. Earthquakes, tsunami warnings, and an idiot terrorist threat at our local airport is just plain craziness.

And there will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; and upon the earth

 there will be distress (trouble and anguish) of nations

 in bewilderment and perplexity at the roaring of the sea.

Men swooning away or expiring with fear and dread and apprehension and expectation of the things that are coming of the world; for the very powers of the heavens will be shaken and caused to totter.

And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud

 with great power and glory.

Now when these things begin to occur, look up and lift up your heads,

 because your redemption (deliverance) is drawing near.

 Luke 21: 25-28

I was going to stop with verse twenty-five, but it was so good I had to go on. I know not everybody thinks the same way I do. I've had comments before that the writing is good, but the religion part could be left out. If I left that part out, however, I would have nothing to write about.

Most of the time I have no clue what I am doing. The news can worry me, my kids can frustrate me, and my husband can completely rock my world when he casually mentions that a part of his family has invited themselves to our house for Easter dinner. (You did catch the invited themselves part, right?)

The same family that we haven't seen for over a year. At least part of that family. The other part, the part that completely ignores us and pretends that we don't exist, are probably just gonna kick back and see how the whole thing plays out.

And when did I say I was cooking Easter dinner?

So you see, sometimes my troubles can begin from my own selfish dislikes and general feelings of I don't want to do this. The only good thing I can say is I knew this day was coming. I had already asked the Lord to guard my mouth when the subject came up and I gotta say, my mouth stayed shut. Miracle! Of course, that very fact has got that wonderful husband of mine very suspicious. My strange silence on the idea of his crazy family coming to dinner has probably got him thinking I'm moody and mad and who knows what else.

Well, technically... he's right on all accounts, but at least I haven't said anything. Baby steps.

Oh, Lord, save me from myself.

And be with those in Japan and Hawaii and the rest of the west coast.

And the idiot thinking he was gonna blow up something at the airport or plane or whatever that was?? Well, I'm thinking he just needs a good, swift kick in the pants, but you know best.

That's why you're YOU and I'm me.

Blessed be the Lord,

 Who bears our burdens and carries us day by day.

 Psalm 68:19

Strange Days

It's been a day of strangeness.

A day of pain.
A day of cake.
A day of bonding.

The pain came in the form of my wrist and my daughter's mouth. I realize how scary that may sound. My right wrist hurts to the point that I broke down today and bought some sort of wrist-support thing. It feels better with it on and yet looks a tad bit tacky. I'll take the feel good part for now.

My daughter took her first step towards braces today. I signed papers and promised to pay... can't wait to see how that works out. She is happy and excited and a little bit nervous, but mostly is distracted by pain tonight. She's nursing those new spacers with a little help from a chocolate shake.

The cake part came after school when I took the kids by Starbucks for a freebie kind of celebration. We each got a drink and a sweet treat. I just reheated my coffee that I never got around to drinking earlier. The sweet treat I'm saving for tomorrow morning.

And the bonding came out of an unfortunate situation, but a good time of sharing nonetheless. Being a mom is hard. Being vulnerable is scary. But I think being a teenager in today's world beats them both. All I can do is pray and talk to the cat and shine the floors.

Remember, I do my best work when I'm troubled.

On a side note, we had Chinese for dinner tonight and the guy who likes my hair offered us $500 for a clipping of it. Twice. And he even pulled out scissors. So I'm thinking next time we go back, I will be prepared with a small token of Chinese good luck. We'll see if that offer still stands. In fact, I'm thinking we may have just found a way to pay for those braces.

Wouldn't that be something else?

Stranger things have happened.

Dresses and Quilts

My girl wore a dress to school today and looked absolutely beautiful. I couldn't help but admire her and then after thinking about it for a few minutes, I thought, Hey, that's my dress.

And it looked so much better on her. Things sure have changed.

I've got a cedar chest full of her frilly little dresses that she had as a new baby. By that stack, there are several my grandma made for her; some have bonnets to match, a few have aprons. Then there are the ones my mom made her. Now those are the fancy ones. I have never known a better seamstress than my mom. The clothes she can make would rival anything you could find in any store, at least in my opinion. It's just too bad that gene skipped me.

I wonder sometimes what we will do with all those dresses. Mom has talked about making all of them into a quilt, especially the ones Grandma made. I love that idea, but my oh my, do we ever have a lot of quilts! From where I sit, I can see one that Mom and Grandma worked on (a lot of embroidery!), one Grandma made for our wedding, and the last one she gave me before she went home with the Lord. In our attic there are at least four that I can think of... one for each of the kids and another her and Mom worked on (more embroidery).

Here we go again. My grandma is everywhere I look. Her face is to my left smiling at me now.

Good morning, Grandma. How's that heavenly garden working out?

And with that, I'm gonna quit. I've got too much to work on today and it is much too gloomy out to take a trip down memory lane. The memories are good, but I've got a feeling that any more talk about dresses, quilts, or gardening will suck me in and not let me go for a while.

And the last thing that little old lady would want is to witness a pity party. She's too happy anyway. Her girl went to school in a dress today, swinging that hair and talking nonstop.

Things are just as they should be.

About Me

I (Wisdom from God) love those who love me,
and those who seek me early and diligently

SHALL FIND ME.

 Proverbs 8:17

For the record, I don't get most things right. I get mad when someone rolls their eyes at what I've fixed for dinner. I have never been able to cut hair straight. I don't understand algebra. I grow weary about pushing kids to do well in school. Just get that diploma! My chocolate chip cookies always turn out flat.

 

 

Hear instruction and be wise, and

DO NOT REFUSE OR NEGLECT IT.

Proverbs 8:33

 

Then there are some things I know I do right. I keep a clean house. I know how to roll socks and tri-fold underwear to satisfy my military husband's idea of a proper dresser drawer (and no, I'm not joking but that is a joke that will take us well into our old-age years). I can bake one delicious Hershey's chocolate cake.

For whoever finds me (Wisdom)

finds life and draws forth and obtains

FAVOR FROM THE LORD.

Proverbs 8:35

I like to think I'm a good listener, but my youngest will tell you I'm not. I'd like to tell you I'm not judgmental, but the middle would challenge that one. I can pretend to know what's wrong with the computer and the oldest will set me straight. I think I've got God figured out and He laughs right along with me.

The reverent and worshipful fear of the Lord

is the beginning (the chief and choice part) of Wisdom,

and the knowledge of the Holy One is

INSIGHT AND UNDERSTANDING.

Proverbs 9:10



The only time I'm me is when I'm with Him.

That's when you see the real me, the way He intended.

Uneven hair and all.



 

Remembering

A chain-kind of status update on Facebook tonight pushed my mind back quite a few years in time. What I mean by chain update is that it's one of those that gets copied and pasted who knows how many times by who knows how many people. It went something like this:

Lost angels: We remember all babies born sleeping,

Or whom we have carried but never met,

Or those we have held but could not take home,

Or the ones who came home but could not stay.

Make this your profile status, if you,

Or someone you know has suffered the loss of a baby.

Baby loss is still a taboo subject. Break the silence.

I saw myself about fifteen years younger and with only little boy at the time. After a trip to the emergency room for a non-related pregnancy issue, I woke up from anesthesia to discover I was pregnant. In other words, we didn't have a clue. I can still remember the nurse talking to me as I was opening my eyes.

Angela, the baby is fine.

Baby? I'm thinking, What baby? Well, lo and behold, there was a baby and we were in just the first few weeks.  My little emergency issue had been taken care of and we were released to go home.

To go home and tell our little boy that he was about to become a big brother.

The joy didn't last, though. Just one month after that day my mom sat with me as I waited for my doctor's appointment for a check-up. I remember watching a little girl play in the waiting room. Her mom (or the lady with her) called her by the name Savannah. I thought that would be a pretty name for a little girl with red hair. Savannah Rose.

The appointment did not go well. There was no heartbeat to be found; only what the doctor called a "mass" and a "blob". If I had not been in shock, I think I would have had some words for that woman. That was not a mass or a blob she was talking about. That was my baby. And my baby had died. I never went back to her again.

I was set up for another appointment in the hospital just a few days later. My husband held my hand and our preacher stopped in. I cried before I went under and I cried when I woke up. It was one of the saddest days of my life.

And so once a year I take time to reflect and wonder about what might have been. Anytime I hear the name Savannah or visit the city Savannah or read the book Savannah (which, by coincidence, I just bought a paperback copy today at a book fair), I think about the baby that forever in my mind will be the one who had my red hair. Only God knows, but the thought makes me smile at an otherwise sad memory.

Bittersweet moments for those that know.

The Third Try

Okay. I am going to try this again.

This is the third time I've faced this same scene this morning.

The third cup of coffee. The third shot of caramel macchiato creamer.

(This, however, is not the third cookie. I do have the rest of the day to pace myself through, you know).

I feel like I have so much to get done today, I have mentally shut down.

One more paper to go for a homework-free weekend.

One kitchen to clean. One dinner to make including two extra guests.

One middle school play to attend starring my daughter.

Well, technically, she's not the star, but she might as well be as far as I'm concerned. I honestly don't know how much stage time she will have. The script has been a closely guarded secret. All I know is that she's in it and we had to make a very fast trip to Walmart this morning before school for needed shoes. I'm good at planning that way.

It's kind of gloomy out today and my electric blanket was calling to me earlier.

Come back and get warm.

You can't think anyway.

Ten minute power naps work wonders.

Except I didn't nap, but I did get warm.

And ten minutes turned into a little over thirty.

And I mentally added about five extra things to my to-do list.

So here I am again. Procrastinating and taking pictures of my cozy little desk and reminding myself how good I'll feel when I finish and hit save. I have a thousand words to write in one hour. I can do this.

Just not while I'm doing this.

Thanks for the warm-up.

And A Child Shall Lead Them

Have you ever had one of those moments when you are stopped right in the middle of your tracks? You're going through life, planning dinner, washing clothes, feeding the cat, lecturing kids... doing all those things that keep us so busy and feeling important and what would the world do without us stuff.

Or maybe I'm the only one with that last issue. I don't know. I do know that being a mom to kids that would struggle to eat something besides ramen noodles and a husband who would stare in disbelief at an empty sock drawer has tended to feed my ego over the years.

And there I go again.

For the record, my kids could take care of themselves food-wise. Between their grilled cheese and muffin-making skills, they would survive. And my husband is the kind of man that does what needs to be done. An empty sock drawer would not scare him. He. Is. Awesome.

But maybe you can see what might get me in trouble. My mouth. And to be more specific, my mouth that knows only one method of talking.

Sarcasm.

Oh, I try to fight it, but that tone always comes ringing through. I hear it so clearly in one of my own children and at times I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sarcasm does have its place in life. But that's the key. Its place.

Lord, help me to keep my tongue in its place.

So here's the deal. Yesterday between picking up two kids from tutoring/school and picking another one up from play practice, we had some time to kill. Seeing as how I needed a fast trip to get some stuff for supper, this was not a problem. The problem is that I like to calculate everything: I pre-plan my route through the store, I consider time spent waiting in line, I think about traffic and stoplights. I knew when we needed to be pulling out of the store parking lot so I could be pulling into the school parking lot right on time.

I wonder how my kids will reminisce about the pre-store huddle:

Thirty minutes.
Garden center checkout.
Be there.
Break!

Okay. Possibly not that extreme, but you get the idea. So when I was already checked out and in the van with one out of two kids, I was getting a tad bit agitated. I made a phone call, was told the missing one was in the checkout line, and expressed my impatience with Hurry up!

I saw that kid running though the parking lot and as he jumped in the car breathless, I looked at his bag with the unique logo of Twizzlers shining through the earth-unfriendly plastic.

Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

Boy, typing these words just does not do them justice. Picture the same words above dripping with sarcasm with a particular emphasis on the word wisely. Say them out loud while looking down your nose with a superior, mom-like attitude.

Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

That child looked at me speechless. When he did find his voice, he simply said, I wish you hadn't said that.

He pulled out a package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. My favorite. And not the little candy bar-sized package, but a big package, like the kind you would buy to give away at Halloween.

I got these for you.

So I attempted a feeble attempt of covering my tracks. With a smile on my face and no sarcasm to be found, I said once again, Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

Yeah. No banana. We both knew I was busted. Feeling very much like the idiot I had made myself out to be, we went on our way, picked up the third child, and went home. He kind of laughed about it later saying that while he was in line waiting to check out he was rehearsing what he was going to say when he handed me the package.

For the best mom ever.

The best mom? Who cares if it's sappy and cliche' and he'll forget that this weekend when I'm harping on him to clean his room. The point is that for a brief moment in this infinite universe in which we live, he thought it.

And my big mouth ruined it.

So to Nick, my seventeen-year old son who has been reading his way through the four gospels and thinking about college and trying to do something nice by buying his mom peanut butter and chocolate, I am really really sorry. You taught me a very painful lesson about watching not only what I say, but how I say it. The funny thing is that I was the one always teaching you about the power of words, but you turned it around and taught me a thing or two.

If anyone thinks himself to be religious

 (piously observant of the external duties of his faith)

 and does not bridle his tongue but deludes his own heart,

this person's religious service is worthless (futile, barren).

 James 1:6, Amplified Bible