Dear Dad,

This is probably one of my favorite pictures of you and me. For the first time in my life, I was finally on my own and working a real job and having to take care of my car myself. I was miles and miles and hours and hours away from home and feeling rather grown up.

But, boy, was I ever glad to see you.

I think you have been there for every big event in my life. I don't remember the early years so much, but I know you were always there cheering me on at ballgames and letting the coaches know when they led me astray. You watched me graduate from high school after spending all those years circling my grades with your ink pen and lecturing me on life. You visited me in basic training and managed not to laugh too hard at those awful glasses Uncle Sam made me wear. 

You walked me down the aisle.

There are times when I wonder why we have the struggles we do in this life. Sometimes it feels that life is so unfair, that other people will always have more, and that I'll never know what debt-free feels like. But then I take moments like this and think about all that I do have and suddenly I feel like I am the luckiest girl in the world, that I have more than other people dream about, and that the feeling of debt-free could never compare with the feeling of being loved.

I would be wanting if it were not for my parents.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Tony and I don't exaggerate anything when we tell you how much you mean to us. I know you have your own struggles, but never doubt the kind of father you have been and still are today.

You are loved.

Dear Kids,

I am done.

I am walking away from the dishes and the laundry and the ever-meowing cat. You may feel neglected. You might feel abandoned. You will most likely have an array of mass-confusing thoughts.

It will be okay. Do your chores. Try to smile at one another. Tell your dad I've gone AWOL. I promise the sun will still shine tomorrow. Life has a way of moving on even when the mom is not cooking dinner.

I'm going into that dark place with the help of liquid gold in a bottle. To be honest, I don't know when you'll see or hear from me again. I'm afraid you'll just have to be patient.

And bring me chicken noodle soup around six o'clock.
Orange juice with a straw (the flexi kind) would be nice.
A homemade card with a poem might cheer me up.

Anything to make a mom feel better.
Just leave me in peace.
And save your questions for later.

Now leave me alone.

I mean,  I love you dearly.

Hugs and kisses,
Mom

Dear UPS Guy,

Banging on a glass door when it's dark outside and then (twice) not answering to "Who's there?" (when the windows are open so we know you can hear) is probably not the smartest thing you've done today. I mean, and this is just a FYI, only about two inches of wood and the aforementioned pane of glass separated you and what could have potentially been a very bad ending to an otherwise pleasant night. You see, that's why we have a well-lit porch and a working doorbell and a helpful peephole-thingy that let's us see someone standing directly in front of it (off to the side doesn't count). I know you're just doing your job. This is nothing against you. I love your brown truck and your brown shorts and the awesome stuff you deliver. I don't even mind when you block my driveway so you can ask me for directions on our very messed up street. I get it.

It was late tonight, though. I'm betting you were in a hurry and probably had your wife or girlfriend or mother calling you nonstop telling you dinner was on the table (I get a little impatient myself when the family is slow to gather at the table). I'm sure you didn't realize how LOUD a fist knocking on glass repeatedly might be or how unsettling it was when no one responded. Heck, you probably haven't even had the time to watch the news about home invasions or recent robberies or what was discovered floating in the river (okay... slight exaggeration on my part). You're a busy man. Anyway, the package you delivered was just what I had been waiting for all day. If my heart hadn't been pounding out of my chest watching my husband prepare to defend our home, I probably would have given you a big smile.

As Caroline Ingalls always said, "All's well that ends well."
I'll make sure to bake you an extra batch of cookies for Christmas.
And give you some doorbell-ringing lessons as an added bonus.

Dear World (Take 2),

Well, I gotta admit, when I wrote that Don't Mess With My Monday entry just a few days ago, I had no idea that the world (and Monday) were about to fight back. Yes, I did get the laundry done and the house got cleaned, but sometime after four that afternoon I ended up flat on my back in the middle of an asphalt driveway and everything came screeching to a halt.

So what do the uninsured do? They pick themselves up and pray for healing. At least that's what I did. A quick internet search suggested that I probably suffered something of a mild concussion and though I am loathe to search any medical diagnosis online (they all lead to death, you know), I had to agree that this one was probably right on the money. My vision was not blurred and I wasn't sick to my stomach, so I figured we could save the trip to the emergency room, take Tylenol as directed, and all would eventually be well.

Then Tuesday morning rolled around. Might I say I whimpered like a baby most of that day?  I couldn't move, couldn't eat, couldn't think. My head hurt, my back hurt, and I swear even my pinky finger hurt. The husband suggested the ER more than one time and more than one time I said, Let's just give it another day. I dined on ginger ale and saltine crackers and when the man of the house wasn't around, depended on that other man of the house (aka the oldest) to help his poor mama out of bed. What a mess! I have never (birthing three children included) felt as bad as I did that day.

Wednesday proved hopeful when I could actually crawl out of bed on my own accord. Although ginger ale and crackers still remained my meal of choice, by the evening a pizza was actually sounding good. Even though I slept most of the day anyway, I had no trouble sleeping that night. This morning showed more promise as I woke up and could actually wave goodbye to the kids from the front porch. Yes, I immediately went back to bed, but three hours later I awoke with some serious hunger pains and only a slight headache. Tonight I can actually stand the backlight of the computer and seeing as how I've already gotten a few of those looks from the kids (the do your homework look, that is), I think things are finally getting back to normal.

And normal sure feels good, even if my head is still a little sore.

So there you have it. You can think you've got something conquered (like a Monday) and then everything changes. One thing about it, being down for the count makes you appreciate all those good days you took for granted. I'm going to have a busy day tomorrow playing catch-up with everything that got put on the back burner this week, but I'm looking forward to it just the same.

And a few final thoughts:

To my mom and dad, I'm sorry I didn't call you right away, but you know how it is... I always hate to worry you all. What I would have given, though, to have my mom taking care of me that awful Tuesday. I will never be too old to need my parents.

To my friend who is taking care of her own daughter right now, I will be glad when you are back. Enough said.

And to any of you out there who may have your own concussion horror stories to share, please don't. If I want to get freaked out, I've got the world wide web.

As always, thanks for reading. =)

Dear World,

Not today.

You are not gonna have me today.

I know things look kinda shaky. I stayed up late waiting on - - -

{This reading is interrupted to point out if you've read this before, yes, a portion of this

 particular  blog entry has been removed due to my belated better judgment.

 Ahhhh... the beauty of a delete button.}

And to everyone who is tired of hearing me go on and on and on about this... well, I guess there are other things to read out there. My next big dilemma will be the prospect of going on for a master's degree. Maybe I'm just afraid I won't be able to find a job. Anyway, if this topic bores you to no end, join the long line of already bored people called my immediate family. My children's eyes form an instantaneous glazed-over, bored look at the first mention of Can you BELIEVE what I have to do this week? The husband is the only one who really has to pretend interest. This was his idea afterall. His support is not up for negotiation.

Another thing trying to bring me down this morning was my beloved children. Oh, I know it is a Monday and they stayed up too late and sometimes mornings just stink. I understand the longing to keep the feel of cold, hard cash in your pocket and thinking life is not fair and wishing your siblings would just talk nice. I really do get it, but life and the school bell waits for no one. I considered jumping the car and driving them all to school to remind them who's the boss, but let's face it: I really didn't want to get out of my pajamas. No, I'm not lazy. I'm just practical. If they're mad at me there's no sense subjecting them to another ongoing lecture that can outlast three stoplights. Besides, there's always the ride home.

I'm gonna wrap this up and kick on the tunes. I've got all day to spread a little sunshine in my life via the washing machine and vacuum cleaner. My first cup of coffee is kicking in and things are looking up already. There are some bright spots to the day:

The Falcons won last night.

And at least one kid smiled at me.

I'm taking my Monday back.

Dear Katelyn,

Thirteen years ago we had a new baby girl that was destined to wear pink for at least one full year. I know that's not one of your favorite colors anymore... I'm guessing I probably ruined it for you (that and frilly dresses and hair bows and lacey socks). I would apologize, but it's hard to be sorry for something that was so much fun.

Actually, you and I have had a lot of fun times. I use to rock you and sing things like Bye-O Baby and You Are So Beautiful. You would play in the kitchen while I cooked and dig out every measuring cup and wooden spoon and bowl you could find. Maybe that's why you still enjoy the kitchen today. You've spent a lot of time in there.

Grandma Faye had you using a quilting needle when you were two and sewing on a machine by the time you were three. I'll never forget the time I picked you up from her house and your little finger was all needle-pricked... somehow you hadn't quite mastered the thimble yet, I think. Even today, if someone in the family needs something mended, they go to you.

Grandma taught you about canning and making grape jelly. I don't think there was much she wouldn't let you try. In fact, I'm pretty sure she was your first best friend. If we have done anything right in our life, it was raising you kids in a place where her house was just a walk away. I am so thankful she was a part of your first nine and a half years (and don't even get me started on Granny). You are one lucky girl.

So now you're thirteen and things like Barbies and American Girls and Big Baby are nothing more than a part of your memories of childhood. All you talk about now is i-pods and cell phones and laptops (and sorry... the answer is still no on all three of them). Don't fret, my dear, you've got a whole life ahead of you to gain access to all those techno marvels. There are just too many things in this world to compete for your attention. For now...

Enjoy your books.
Learn to relax.
Love your kitten.

Oh, and feel free to bake. Often.

Your dad and I are very happy with the young woman you are becoming. Your grandma would be thrilled. Yes, you're gonna have struggles, but that's just part of it. You've already overcome a lot in your young life; you'll think back on those times when things get hard. And remember everything your old mom has taught you:

God is all powerful.
Jesus will forgive.
You have a purpose.

And Starbucks makes the world go round.

With much love to you,

Your MOM
(not your friend, buddy, or pal, but ALWAYS your biggest fan)

P.S. Dad just read this and reminded me of the time you asked if you could call Grandma "Mom." I can still see her giggling when she told me that (even if I did NOT think it was funny at the time). Ha!

Dear Mom,

Just thought I would say (for all the world to see) that I sure am missing you. I think it's time for you to visit again. Or for me to come there. Wonder how the kids would feel about another 28-hour round trip? Blast this distance and the price of gas. Somebody needs to invest in a plane and a pilot.

We did a lot of running around today without really accomplishing anything. Sometimes shopping just doesn't do the trick, does it? I ended up not buying anything except five Route 44's during Sonic's Happy Hour. I was going to order the regular mediums, but then I was reminded Pa let us get the big ones. Haha.

My flowers are looking pretty wilted in this heat and I was too lazy to water anything this evening. I guess I figure there's always tomorrow morning. I'm still working on learning to crochet and I keep looking at all the afghans Grandma made. Sure wish I had paid more attention to how she did things.

I could go on, but I suppose I would just be rambling to fill up space. I told everyone I was going to bed so I could have some moments of quiet. Everybody's doing their own thing anyway. You know how that is. I'm back to regular loads of laundry and frequent trips to the grocery store. No rest for the weary.

So, so glad that you're my mom.
TTYL.
(happy face)

Dear Drama,

I went to bed thinking about you last night and woke up with you still on my mind. My coffee doesn't taste good because you make my stomach sick and my body feels achy from all the agony you bring and my eyes burn from the tears you cause. Why, oh why must you camp out in my backyard?

I mean, I knew you well enough when I was in junior high. You even hung around for most of my high school years (I think you must have hooked up with my old boyfriend or something). Other than that, you pretty much took the hint and left me alone. It was a good run.

Oh, I knew to expect you when my own kids got older. I think you must lurk around every freshman locker and sit at every seventh grade girls' table in the cafeteria. That's part of teaching them to grow up and conquer you and telling you to hit the road.

But seriously. Why are you here? For the last few weeks you've been constantly at my front door. I try to keep you out. I have no problem in not answering the door. I can ignore you until Jesus comes back. The trouble (and your lucky break) is that my husband is too nice. He just hates to see people fight.

He'll get tired of you, though. One day he is going to wake up and decide that you are simply not worth it. There is no amount of Pepto in the world that can sooth the woes you bring. The only thing you understand is a good swift kick in the pants. You'll get yours.

Until then, I will be patient. I'll smile and hold my tongue and speak words of encouragement and chew antacids as needed. The last thing I need is for you to invite your friends over. One of us would definitely have to go then and a word to the wise, it won't be me.

You see, my kids are about to come home. They'll have just a short month before school starts and homework begins and their own battles kick off. I'll not have you burdening them with your adult version of idiot people. They get enough of that in our public school system.

Ahhhh. I feel better already. Maybe not coffee ready, but definitely ready to face what you're gonna dish out today. We're here for a reason. Sooner or later, it'll all come out. Bear with me and wait a little longer, and I will show you, for I have something still to say on God's behalf  (Job 36:2).

And one more thing, don't let the back door hit you on the way out. Or on second thought, please do. Be sure to exit by that dog of ours with the big teeth and sharp nails. She loves to tear up stuff. I have just volunteered you. I think even my husband would agree with me on this one. You won't be around for a holiday dinner.

With no love or best wishes,
Angela




        

To My Kids

Good Morning!

Will you read this?
How are you doing?
Did you sleep well?

See?
It's just as if you were here and I'm asking you questions first thing in the morning.

I am sitting in a very quiet house looking at the cat looking at me. He is not happy because I won't take him out on the front porch (can you say spoiled??). Your dad has already left the house to doing his usual Saturday, workman stuff and I am thinking about this very messy house that I need to clean and the schoolwork I need to do.

We're just rolling in excitement here.

I thought of you all during that long trip yesterday. In my mind, I could see each city you were passing through and every river you crossed. I hope you all took the time to see the sights and enjoy the beauty this country has to offer (sappy, I know, but oh-so-true). We've been on that drive so many times, I think we all have it memorized by now.

To the oldest, we've been bragging about your license and your first solo drive.
For the middle, you never cease to entertain us and make us proud. 
And to our youngest, your growing beauty is making your dad very nervous. =)

These really are some of the best times of your life.
Have fun at your granny and pa's. Help out all you can.
You'll be home soon enough to hear me complain about your rooms.

You are loved.

An Apology Letter To My Mom

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry for all those time I must have drove you nuts. I'm sorry for all the dirty looks I gave you when you told me something I didn't want to hear. I'm sorry for all the times I repeatedly asked you for new clothes.

I'm sorry I frowned at the supper you put on the table. I'm sorry all my socks and underwear rarely made it to the laundry basket. I'm sorry I didn't lift the knick-knacks off the shelf and actually dust underneath them.

I'm sorry I never thanked you for the toothpaste in the bathroom. I'm sorry clean dishes in the cabinet went unappreciated. I'm sorry I didn't take better care of the bedroom that was provided.

And for all those other seemingly unimportant things that I never thanked you for... things like electric lights, flushing toilets, and a working furnace... well, I'm sorry I never fully understood that those things didn't just magically happen. Like the money tree out back that I thought you just didn't want me to know about. I'm sorry I thought you lied.

You must have always thought, "One day she'll understand. One day she'll get it." Or maybe you had your doubts, "That girl will never have a clue." Well, I get it, Mom, and I'm sorry.

Love,
Your Daughter

P.S. And tell Dad I'm sorry for thinking he really did want to ruin my life by checking my grade cards and keeping tabs on me around town. I guess he knew what he was doing afterall, too.