Got Hope?

I've had several questions via messages and comments asking me if I enjoyed the Royal Wedding. Yes, very much so. I know a lot of people were tired of hearing about all the hype that's been leading up to this day; I know several people who have voiced loudly their concerns that the coverage of William and Kate took precedence over the horrendous flooding and storm damage that has claimed precious lives and caused extensive property damage throughout the U.S.; I know some of my own family members were still questioning my level of sanity when I was still talking about it after school .

1. I get tired of all the hype, too. Then again, I get sick of hearing about American Idol, the Oscars, and global warming. That's why I love the power of a remote control.
2. This storm season has been absolutely, positively horrible. We know one family that lost three family members in an Alabama tornado. Maybe if this wedding was a U.S. event, things would have been covered differently. I don't know. Nobody sent me a memo on that one.
3. I thought it was beautiful. I don't know what else to say. We all know fairy tale endings are a long shot. Maybe that's what makes the fairy tale beginnings so... well, hopeful.

And the Lord knows we all need hope in our lives. My parents needed it when they married forty-five years ago this very day. My family needed it today as we thought of our grandma and what would have been her birthday. I'm going to need it tomorrow when I send my oldest boy off to his first prom.

Good grief, I'll probably be crying at that one, too. As the middle said tonight at supper (while he patted his older brother on the back), "Gonna be another awesome mom moment." They know me so well.

hope: (noun).

 Desire of something good; ground of expectation.

I hope William and Kate have a better ending than Charles and Diana.

I hope these storms are a thing of the past.

I hope Beatrice burns her hat.  =)

The Best Part About Tomorrow

And for the record, I didn't forget...

The original royalty; at least in my book.



Pictured here their senior year (I think).

Married the following year.

Happy 45th Anniversary, Mom & Dad.

April 29, 1966 ~ practically forever.

You really are my heroes.

(especially with a cool look like that).

Royal Plans

Why, yes, I do plan on getting up at 4:00 a.m.

 Actually, it'll have to be around 3:45 to make sure my eyes are actually open.

 I am that person.

I watched Lady Di get married.

 I'm gonna watch her boy.

 I've already announced it to the family.

 My husband has volunteered to take the kids to school.

I don't plan on missing a thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I know I'm not British.

I get tired of the media overload just like you.

But I just can't help myself.

I love a good wedding.

And if a prince is involved?

Well, somebody find my glass slippers.

And for the record, I will be having tea and scones.

How tacky is that?



Spending Time With The Middle

I've bemoaned the fact that not having a job really stinks. Almost two years running, patiently waiting (?), and surviving on one income can be more than a little challenging. When the kids were small, we did the one income thing anyway, so I guess you could say we're use to it. I never thought, though, at this point in our lives, I would still be a stay-at-home mom. You've heard me cry and complain and wonder when the day will ever come that I'm back in a classroom.

(By the way, pray, Pray, PRAY for me, please. I submitted a resume a little over a week ago for a position that I would really, Really, REALLY like to have for the next school year. Fingers crossed and toes crossed).

But back to the present and the reason for today's entry. This morning the middle had a doctor's appointment. We dropped the other two off at school, ate breakfast, drove around aimlessly killing a little time, saw the doctor, and then killed a little more time in the grocery store. Can I say how much I enjoyed this young man's company?

I try my best to spend a little one-on-one time with each kid. Very early on in my mothering days I had a very wise pastor point out to me that it was important not to lump them all together as one kid. Because they are all two years apart, that was easy to do when they were toddlers. He showed me that I had to remember they were individuals and to treat them as such. I might be a slow learner, but I remember lessons like that.

So today was all about the middle. I like to call him my child of promise. He entered this world one year after we lost a little one near the end of the first trimester. I mourned that child, but welcomed the new one. He was never meant as a replacement, but only the Lord knows how special that pregnancy and his arrival was to me. I can still see us together in the first moments of mother and child and remember how irritated I was with the nurse who kept coming to take him away from me.

He joined a big brother and later welcomed a little sister. From that point on, I'm sure he has always felt he's been stuck in the middle.

But I happen to think that the middle's a good place to be.

So although I look forward to the day when I'm back to doing that other part of my life that I love that includes singing songs to memorize presidents and teaching about wars and keeping a bag of Dove dark chocolate tucked away in my desk, I'm thankful for days like today that remind me having all this free time as a mom is a good thing. I get to do fun stuff like breakfast and stalling so a kid can arrive at school just in time for the last five minutes of an English class.

I'm the mom I always wanted to be.

My Windows Are Shiny

And so comes another holiday not at Grandma or Aunt Patty's house. I don't know who this bothers more... me or my girl. Just when I think I'm settled where I'm at, another pesky holiday dinner rolls around. Just when I think I can do this, my girl sighs that heavy sigh and says Wouldn't you trade everybody for Granny and Pa, or to eat at Aunt Patty's, or to talk to Grandma one more time?

That girl is just like her mama.

This is not a day for depressing thoughts, though, for this is the day Christ arose. I was thinking about a little Catholic church not far from our house. Friday night we were on our way to dinner with some friends when we passed a production (I guess that's what you'd call it) out in their field right by the main road. Roman soldiers in all their centurion glory, Pilate sitting high on a platform, three lonely crosses in the distance. The sight made a vehicle full of laughing adults silent for a brief moment in time. Yesterday I noticed everything had been cleared from the field except for a lone tomb set off in a far corner. A large, round stone covered the front. I know without looking that stone has been rolled away this morning.

So this definitely cannot be a depressing day.

Yesterday I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned some more. I could have stopped with my usual housecleaning (you know, the dust/sweep/vacuum run-through), but I thought of my grandma and what she would have me do. She would want me to have my house sparkling for my husband's family; not in a perfection type of thing, but a make-him-proud type of thing. Why is it I always think of her when I wash my windows? I could hear her in the back of my mind, You really need to wash those blinds, too.

I know this, Grandma, but I don't have the time.

Then I sat out little glass dishes (my mom loves anything glass) full of jelly beans in the living room and back screened-in porch (Aunt Patty loves all those little touches). I fixed up my cute, little Sprite and Coke bottles in a bowl (again for Aunt Patty) and scattered pastel, plastic eggs filled with candy and quarters throughout the house (just because I thought it was cute). By the time nine o'clock rolled around and my husband offered to shred the bar-be-que pork (thank God for little miracles), I collapsed in the recliner with my aching feet up (just like my mom).

Was it all worth it?

I think so. Even if everybody bailed (little miracles again?) and nobody showed up for dinner, my house is clean, we've got food we love waiting in the fridge, and my daughter amazed herself and us with the cutest bunny cake. All in all, I think we've had a pretty good weekend already. I still have one more paper to write that hovers over me like a dark cloud, but I'll knock that out easy enough later this evening. The birds are singing outside and the cat has already taken care of his daily yak (ohhhh, that cat). And did I mention the tomb is empty?

My grandma would want me to be nice today.
My mom would insist upon it.
And Aunt Patty would talk about it all later.

It's almost like they're all here anyway.

Happy Resurrection Sunday!

Good, Good Friday

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation

 and uphold me with a willing spirit.

Psalm 51:12

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning thinking about my salvation, the bible my grandma gave me, and a cup of coffee. Of course, when I walked into the kitchen and realized it was, in fact, only 2:00 a.m., I decided maybe that cup of coffee should wait. Seeing as how there's no school tomorrow and the only alarm set belongs to my hard working man of a husband, I fully intend on sleeping in. I'll enjoy that coffee then.

I sit here, though, with a bible my grandma gave me. My mom's handwriting on the inside cover says 12-25-80. It does indeed show its age. My name embossed in gold on the front is just about worn off, threads can be seen sticking out on the spine, and the overall feel to it is just plain flimsy. There's post-it notes sticking out, cards about missionaries inside, and a random drawing the middle one made. Me and my bibles are a funny thing. I know I'm blessed to have so many; I don't take that for granted. Each one is special and each one hard to part with; in fact, I think I've only parted with one in my whole life and that was for my brother some time ago. Letting go of that bible was like letting go of me. It's personal. You want to know something about me, look in my bible.

(And if you don't like writing in a bible, then I'm afraid you might not like me. I write, highlight, underline, put squiggly marks... anything to help me remember something I know I need to remember. I use to think this was wrong until I saw my grandma do it. And we all know if Grandma did it, then it must be all right).

Anyway, my current bible is held together with duct tape. Tacky? Maybe. But replacing my Amplified would be like replacing my right arm. I'm just not ready to make that step.

And so I sit here thinking about bibles and my grandma and a time many years ago. The year of 1980 was a big one for me. I was ten (double digits, you know) and one Sunday night I followed my family to an altar in church. I remember crying because everyone else was crying and I remember repeating the words of a salvation prayer.

Yes, I believe Jesus died for my sins.

Yes, I know, in fact, I am a sinner.

Yes, I believe His Blood was shed for me.

Yes, I accept His salvation.

I didn't fully understand then what a beginning that would be. I certainly did not live a squeaky clean life. My teenage years are a blur. My family did not have a stellar church attendance record. I only went to church camp once and never had any desire to go back. There weren't many things in my life that were consistent because I tended to make everything complicated (and this has nothing to do with my parents, Dr. Psychologist), but there were three things that were always there:

My grandma.

My bible.

My salvation.

(Do you notice the common theme that always seems to run through my ramblings? My grandma is always there. Living on. Living forever. Living through me. I sure hope her reward is great).

My twenties came and I found myself in basic training crying out to the Lord once again. He was there. My thirties came and I found myself deep in a marriage with three little kids and I cried out to the Lord. He was there. Now just at the beginning of my fourth decade on this earth, I cry out to the Lord on any given day (teenagers, you know). He is there. Please don't take this wrong when I say Good Friday is probably my most favorite day out of the whole year. I know it's a somber day that we mark (as Christians) in that Jesus was so cruelly treated and beaten and crucified.

But if it were not for Good Friday, I would be lost. We all would be.

If it were not for Good Friday, there would be no Easter Sunday.

If it were not for Easter Sunday, we would have no hope.

I believe Jesus Christ was born of a virgin,

Was crucified on a cross for forgiveness of sins,

Resurrected on the third day,

And is indeed coming again.

My bible says it. It's highlighted, underlined, and surrounded by squiggly lines.

My grandma said it. I'm going to meet her in the clouds one day.

And that's all I need to know.

Have a good, Good Friday.

To-Do List

My husband noticed this list when he sat down at the computer. Wow, he said. This could qualify for a full-time job. He truly is an observant man.

What Do You Think?

Kids and the f-word, I just don't get.

Church kids and the f-word, I really don't get.

“May the words of my mouth

 and the meditation of my heart

 be acceptable to You, LORD,

 my rock and my Redeemer.”

 Psalm 19:14

And yet these are the same kids that will be quick to point out

 Don't Judge Me.

judge (verb): to form an opinion about through

careful weighing of evidence

 and testing of premises

What do you think?

Does the use of profanity reflect the heart,

or is it simply a reflection of one's environment?

Can a kid jump up and down in a youth service,

use the f-word in both the written word and speech,

and still keep their testimony and glorify God?

Don't get me wrong.

I know this applies to grown-ups.

I understand how a kid learns that word to begin with.

It just makes me sad.

It disheartens me.

And it makes me write.

I love young people.

I love how they love God.

I love them even when I hear or read those words.

You can really tell me what you think.

Just leave the f-word out of it, please.

And a disclaimer to my mom who will read and worry and wonder, this does not in any way refer to your grandchildren (although we know anything can, and usually does, happen).

Crazy Tow Truck Guy Driver

I very nearly came close to death today. Well, maybe not that close, but close enough for me to thank the Lord for everything He's given me and to ask Him to please, please, please take care of my kids. That's close enough for me.

Where was I? you might ask.
What was I doing? would be a good question.

Answer? I was riding in a tow truck with our broken down truck behind me, sitting in the middle with no seat belt, inches away from the windshield with the driver sitting next to me texting away. Texting. One hand on the phone; one hand on the stick-shift thing. I think he was using his knees to steer. Oh, and he was talking and laughing the whole time with my husband who was happily swapping childhood stories with him. Obviously I was the only one aware of how close to death we actually were.

Well, I take that back. My husband was all too aware of my fingernails digging into his leg. He told the kids about that part later and for the record, he did agree with me. That guy was crazy.

Nice.
Very polite.
Knowledgeable about his job.

But crazy.

Life is indeed a very sweet thing.

A Sunday Superwoman

Today I managed to...

get everybody out the door for the early service.
ignore the distractions.
make pancakes afterwards.
wash a load of laundry.
wash a sink full of dishes.
water the flowers.
start a paper.
admire a prom dress.
watch kids play chess.
watch kids play with bionicles.
grill out hamburgers.
listen to my husband.
listen to my girl.
take one kid home.
spy on another kid.
tell yet another kid goodbye.
pull weeds.
finish a paper.
start a paper.
chat with mom.
chat with husband.
turn the dryer on again.
pull dead flowers.
finish a paper.

And now here I sit with yet another paper to do.

I

Am

Tired

And even superwoman needs her rest, right?

I read my sixteen chapters this week. I watched my documentary. I completely ignored Kathie Lee and Hoda. So what if I visited with friends and talked with my kids and enjoyed my husband in the midst of all that? A girl's gotta live. I'll take a late grade tomorrow. I'm good with that.

Besides, I'm thinking about ice cream and my husband's in a good mood.
I might have one more thing to add to my list.

My Daily Phone Call

I may not have fortune,

And I may not have fame.

I may be just plain moody at times.

(Hard to imagine, I'm sure).

I may be at the top of a mountain.

Or I might be at the bottom of a valley.

I may be just trying to get by.

But one thing about it,
I've always got my dad...
who calls me back because
he forgot to tell me
He loves me.

I love you, too.

Sympathy Cards

How does one express sympathy?

I've written two cards today and wondered at the words I chose. One card was short and to the point; the other rambled on a bit. One card was for the old; the other was for the young. How does a person choose words to comfort the living? I know there are scriptures and quotes and all kinds of poems that inspire encouragement and hope. I wonder, though, about the person who reads those words. What will comfort them?

I think back to my grandma's funeral. I have never experienced anything like it and I seriously doubt I ever will again. She was SO ready to go; it really was a celebration of sorts, as sad as it was. She was dressed in red like she wanted and we could all laugh as we talked about her life and the legacy she left behind.

But she was old.
She had lived a full life.
Her time on earth was complete.

But the young? Now that's a tough one. I don't even want to venture too far into this one. It's too raw, too vulnerable, too confusing. Some things just don't make sense, and yet we try to find words to write on a card to try to make sense of it all. I suppose that's just our way, all the while knowing that some things will never be understood this side of heaven. That's what makes us human.

My, oh my.
This is getting too deep.
And I have a lot of work to do.

Some things are worth taking the time to think about, though, I think. People are worth the time. The living need that inspiration to live. So I'll address my envelopes, use my stamps, and mail my cards with the hope that somebody is able to find that elusive moment of peace in a time of sorrow, not necessarily from my words, but just from knowing that people care and remember those who have went on.

It's good to remember.

What Tomorrow May Bring

Do you ever feel like you could just melt into your bed? I feel that way right now. My legs and feet ache from walking two nights in a row. How sad is that? My head aches from the Normans and the Slavics and some other stuff that although interesting to read, has left me feeling a little weary. I would take a hot bath, but then I would have to clean the tub first. There's no fun in that.

My girl's skirts keep getting shorter.
I keep pulling them back down.
That's become our nightly routine.

Last night we broke up the nightly routine with a family viewing (minus the girl) of the original Clash of the Titans, one of my favorite movies as a teenager. The boys were disappointed in what they labeled as "lame graphics" and deemed the entire plot "BORING," and yet they stayed glued to their seats the entire time.  Either they secretly liked the movie and just didn't want to admit it, or they enjoyed their time with their mom and dad so much they just didn't want to leave.

And a minor note here.... if you're anything like me, you tend to forget certain scenes from certain movies long ago. This one had brief glimpses of the female form in all her glory. I had completely forgot. While I positioned my hands in strategic places on the tv screen, the boys (and the dad) chastised me for what I brought into the home. Of course, their argument didn't stand a chance when I started rattling off video games that they play (dad included). Nonetheless, we all had a good laugh and I am confident they were in no way scarred. The plus side? No sex, no profanity. I'm good with what they saw. In fact, I would prefer that over most of the crap they see on primetime television any given night.

But that's another story.

I received some sad news from back home today that had me searching for cheap plane tickets. There were none to be found. Driving is out of the question so I read and cleaned and read some more. I looked at old pictures, talked to the kids, and thought about how precarious life can be. I watch the news and see things that don't matter get valuable media time and things that do matter swept under the rug. It really is an upside-down world.

But again, that's another story for another day.

For today, I'm thankful my kids are safe (short skirts and all).
I'm thankful for a friend to walk with (even if I do whine about achy legs).
And I'm even thankful for a dirty bathtub (I can always get a kid to clean it).

I'm thankful for schoolwork, past and present.
I'm thankful for people I have known.
I'm thankful for a God in Heaven.

Yet you do not know [the least thing] about what may happen tomorrow. What is the nature of your life? You are [really] but a wisp of vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist) that is visible for a little while and then disappears [into thin air].

 James 4:14 (Amplified Bible)

 

Goodbye, World

Goodbye, Laura Bush. I'm just not going to be able to finish your book which I love. You all just made it to the White House (the first time) and you were talking about gowns, I believe. I get a little teary-eyed knowing that I won't be visiting with you anytime soon, but back to the library you must go.

Goodbye, Mitch Rapp. You are my all-time favorite spy, even if you're not real. Book number four was next in line after Laura. It's just not gonna happen. I'm going to hide my nook in the closet so I won't be tempted. Don't worry, you are forever in my dreams.

Goodbye, Kathie Lee and Hoda. You're my favorite mid-morning pleasure, but you're going to have to go, too. I get too easily distracted with your talk of weekend travel and white wines and celebrity gossip. It's best if I just leave the television off.

Goodbye, Facebook.

Nevermind that one. No sense in going overboard here, but the farm may very well have to go into the dormant mode for now. Heavy, heavy sigh.

Just when I thought I might be getting a handle on this middle eastern nonsense that I've been trying to learn (no offense to my middle eastern friends, mind you)... but just when I was getting caught up on the reading and writing and somewhat understanding, I started a new class today.

Traditional Russia.
Fourteen initial chapters to read.
One hefty assignment to kick things off.

This in addition to my assigned four chapters regarding the middle east and war.
And two assignments to go with that.
All due by Sunday.

I love history.

Good thing I also love coffee.
You all pray for me, okay?
This too shall pass.

Happy Mother's Day (no matter what the calendar says)

Where did the weekend go?

Friday night: bonfire and friends.
Saturday night: mexican dinner and friends.
Sunday night: scrapbooking and friends.

Yep. I've turned into quite the social butterfly.

Seriously, though, I think this weekend has been jam-packed with everything that keeps us busy and makes life fun... of course, the twist in all that everything was a sick kid that reminded me that moms really are needed every now and then.

And by the way, may I interrupt this moment to say how refreshing it is to finally have a child old enough to actually throw up in the toilet without you having to witness the catastrophe on the living room carpet? In fact, old enough to throw up in the toilet, clean any mess up (including themselves), and then tell you about it? I'm sorry, but that was a moment worth mentioning and remembering for me.

Anyhoo, the sickness was short-lived and the weekend continued without anymore drama.

A drama-free weekend.
And did I mention time with friends?
Even the cat has been relaxed.

Spring Break is over. The kids head back to school tomorrow and I add yet another class to my already overloaded brain. My husband casually mentioned yesterday that we are indeed having company for Easter dinner (the Easter dinner that I didn't know I was fixing) and I've been biting my tongue ever since.

So many things I could say.
So many things that I think.
So many things that really don't matter.

What does matter?

Well, the youngest just gave me my mother's day present. Why now? Because she just finished it and is absolutely, positively just like her mother when it comes to keeping a surprise. It can't be done. So she walked up to me smiling and handed me a freshly-completed scrapbook full of memories and handwritten love. I was choking back tears before I hit the third page. Good grief, what did I do to deserve her?

This is going to be one weekend that I hate to see end.

School Makes Me Cry; Chocolate Makes It Better

Pardon me while I get all sappy and sentimental here.

There are days I just really get to missing what use to be.
Some mornings find me homesick and in tears.
That's just the way it is.

Back home, there are a group of women and a few men waking up and preparing to head to one of the greatest places on earth, at least in my opinion. It's a place where my kids spent their elementary years and I poured my heart and soul into; I guess that's why it will always be a part of me. It's a place I miss very, very much.

Yes, it's just a building. I know that.
But, oh, it's the stories behind that building.
That's what makes it great.

The first year on the first day, the ringing of hammers could still be heard throughout the basement of a small church. My chalkboards consisted of three small, different-sized boards put together on the same wall. My class of six (I think) made up the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. I can still picture those concrete walls, our meager playground, and a whole lot of hope.

Years went by and the foundation for a new building was poured. We wrote scriptures on paper and strategically placed them before that first load of concrete ever went into place. Day by day we watched walls go up, swept away drywall dust, and dreamed of what our new classrooms would look like. My last year there was our first year in the new building. We were so proud, so thankful, so humbled at what the Lord had done.

And that's where my friends are today.

Walking those beautiful halls.
Gathering in a beautiful classroom.
Offering up a beautiful prayer.

Praying for kids, praying for families, praying for patience.

Teaching is an amazing thing.
Friendships are forever.
Remembering makes me cry.

But it's a good cry. My kids are who they are because of those early years. Not only did they witness the foundation of a building going in, but they also received a solid foundation in learning. They are excellent readers and writers, they geniunely care for their fellow classmates, and they know the anguish of living with a teacher.

(That last part was a joke... kind of).

And so life goes on. We never know the twists and turns that are ahead. We never know when we might unexpectedly come across a dead-end. All we can know is that there is ONE who does know the way, if only we have enough sense to let Him lead.

In the meantime, I suppose we should just enjoy the ride (even when that ride refuses to upload pictures). I'll take that as a hint and move on my merry way. Much love to all my LWCA friends (and fond memories of Mrs. Earleen).

For the rest of you, tell a teacher thank you today.
And give her lots of chocolate.

We Are Amazing

This was the middle's facebook status last night:

I have amazing parents.
:D
Just sayin'.

I tend to document this kind of stuff so I always have it on standby in case a certain kid forgets. That's just the kind of mom I am. Now I'm no dummy (ignoring the chuckling in the background). I know why we were amazing parents last night; so does my husband. We let a kid suffering from a particular form of techno-itis have an extra hour with his beloved DSi and wi-fi. At the other end of that connection was his beloved girlfriend. You better believe we are amazing parents.

As my girl would say, Whatever keeps the tears away, Mom.

Spring Break

The weather is hot.
The tourists are rampant.
The kids are bored.

Welcome Spring Break.

My husband spent the day driving his grandma around. Instead of driving Miss Daisy, it's driving Miss Grace. You should hear the stories he brought home. Just listening to him makes me miss my grandma all the more. What I would give to drive her to a doctor's appointment one more time.

The kids have spent their first day off glued to the computer with periodic breaks for fresh air in-between. They've managed to assemble a couple of bags of clothes destined for Goodwill to appease me and did a quick sweep of their bedroom floor to appease their father. Everybody's playing it cool because nobody wants to be stuck with extra chores their one week off from school.

Meanwhile, I've got a good dozen books I want to read and no time off for my own schoolwork. I'm definitely fighting the temptation to slack off this week, but then I would regret it later on. Sometimes it does indeed stink being a grown-up.

As for now, I can't keep my wedding band on because my fingers are swollen. Maybe it's a sign, my husband says. He better hope not. The man loves his dinner.

Good grief it's hot.
Spring Break?
Or Summer Break?

I think we skipped a season.

Being A Girl

My tummy hurts and I think I might be seriously close to overdosing on Midol. I've apologized to my husband a gazillion times today for... well, I how no idea except for just being the way I am. I'm usually not like this. I have a serious problem with girls/women that take the whole monthly thing to the extreme (and come on, we all know some ladies use this as an excuse for everything). This has just been some day.

I cannot concentrate on anything. I'm staring at a paper I have to write about Russia and the Ottoman Empire and I'm thinking Russia? Where's Russia? I feel seriously out of touch with reality at the moment... and yet, I can still focus long enough to write this blog. Okay, okay. I know where Russia is; I just have no desire to write this stupid, stupid paper on European influence and blah, blah, blah. I would rather go take everything out of the kitchen cabinets and wash and dry them twice before I would want to write this assignment.

I'm such a fine role model for my children.

I've shut myself in my room so as not to scare any of them. My daughter had sympathy for me in that knowing way and was quick to supply me with a cup of hot tea, refusing to take no for an answer. The boys, whom I'm pretty sure don't pay much attention to my blog entries anyway, are most likely wrapped up too tight in their cyber worlds to notice I haven't been seen for a while. My husband accepted my last apology with a quick hug and has since made himself scarce. Poor, poor man. Even the cat is avoiding me.

And so goes my day in the life of a girl.
Surely tomorrow will be better.
Today had to have been some kind of a fluke, right?



P.S. I'll go ahead and apologize now to my dad, brother, and any other male figure who stumbled upon this sad, sad entry... just be glad you're not here. This probably wouldn't have been a good time to visit.

I think I just saw the cat nod his head in agreement.
Yep, I've had one Midol too many.
Time to break out the heating pad.

Saturdays Are Like That

Waking up on a Saturday morning always makes me wish my mom were near. It's spring break in our neck of the woods and everything is in full bloom. The road to our house alone is lined (in most places) with azaleas in bright pinks and pure whites and all I can think is, I wish my mom were here to see this.

The dusty, yellow pollen has finally died down thanks in part, I'm sure, to all the rain we had last week. My flower pots are overflowing with blooms and the bleeding hearts, ferns, and something-that-I-can't-remember-the-name-of are popping up around our little pond out back. I think my dad would really like all that.

If I could have one wish, at least at this moment, is that all of my family could be here at the same time. How crazy would that be? My parents could have our room, my brother and wife Katie's room, nieces and husband and baby and baby-to-be could camp out in the boys' room. Shoot, I'd even let my husband take the couch. Anything, if only they could all be here.

I promise I didn't wake up gloomy. The sunshine is streaming in through the windows, the fireplace is going just long enough to knock the chill out of the air... it is certain to be a beautiful day. I'm on my way to meet a friend for coffee and laughs and conversation, and all the kids are still happily sleeping away their Saturday morning. I just sat down and found myself missing my mom.

Saturdays are like that.

The thing is, she'll most likely be thinking the same thing.
Great minds think alike.

We'll both snap out of it, though.
Saturdays come every week.

But all those Saturdays eventually bring summer.

Can't wait to see you, Mom.
Sure do love and miss you.
Thanks for making me, well... me.

Tony's Journey: Volume Five

I figured it was about time to post an update about my brother. I know from the comments and emails I've received that people are interested in this journey of his. If you're new to the trip, backtrack here to get up to speed on his story and progress.

And I wouldn't be a good sister if I didn't dig through the photo albums to find little kid pictures of him to share.

At any rate, here's an update in his words.

March 17, 2011
Well I have really learned what not to do on this gastric sleeve bypass, and that is MAKE SURE YOU EAT ENOUGH PROTEIN OR YOU WILL BE SICK,TIRED,HURT ALL OVER, AND NOT LOSE WEIGHT. How do I know this because I was so obsessed with getting down to the 330's that I just decided not to really eat anything for 5 days.

(I asked him if he was still losing weight).

Sis, in 5 days I only lost 1 pound, I was so frustrated. Until I got my book out (the one that tells me the do's and don'ts) And of course right there in front of me it says, YOU MUST HAVE PLENTY OF PROTEIN OR YOUR WEIGHT LOSS WILL STALL, A...ND YOU WILL NOT LOSE ANY WEIGHT. I have also learned that when you don't intake protein your body begans to eat it's self, and what it is eatting is the muscle not the fat. That is why I would hurt all over. I learn things the hard way,but at least I have learned not to do that again. Also started walking tonight, Judy Me and the dogs went to the track at the school and walked 1 1/2 miles. I figure I will start doing this every night. It wasn't that bad, and Yes MOM I am back to drinking my protein shakes like I am suppose too. LOL

March 19, 2011

Well today I have reached 2 of my goals, 1 was to loose 50 pounds, 2nd was to lose 30 pound in a month. (did that one in 27 days) so all together I have lost 50. Next goal is 75 pounds and to still keep losing 30 pounds a month. Ultimate goal is to weigh 200 by August. that would be 191 pounds in about 7 months.

March 21, 2011

Well I made it into the 330's, I weighed in at 339 today, WHOO HOO, and I also up my walk to 2 miles today. I am thinking about keeping it at that for the week. I told Judy we would do 1 3/4 miles this week but I might just raise it to 2 miles. LOL

March 23, 2011

Well I got to eat my first bit of real food, and of course I have to break in the new stomach with a 1/2 cup of chili. Man that chili sure tasted good, It beats puddin' anyday of the week. LOL Next up to try is baked fish, another favorite of mine. The steak will have to wait until 24th of April, then I can have it. whoo hoo. Oh and by the way 1/2 cup of chili and I was STUFFED.

March 29, 2011

Well I am slowly but surely making progress on my weight loss. Back in feb. my max weight was 391 this morning I weighed in at 334 not to bad. I am getting to eat 1/2 cup of chili, 4oz of baked fish,4oz hambuger (no bread). So things are alot better now that I am eating good stuff again. I am still averaging about 1 pound a day, some days none, some days 2. goal is still 200 by august/september time. Oh and I have only thrown up once, that was last friday. i tried to eat a boiled egg to fast. And my stomach said I don't think so. So lesson learned on that mistake. I am glad I decided to do this surgery, I do feel better. I will be happier once I get my strenght back. but it will happen.


Thanks to all who have been thinking of him. I would ask for an update for today, but the computer and I aren't getting along very well as of this moment. I know when to cut my losses and move on with life. In this case, I'm going to move on with another cup of coffee. Until next time, here's hoping Kentucky brings it home this weekend (that would be basketball for all you what-the-heck-is-the-Final Four-people).