The Month Of May

May is a pretty confusing month for me.

It's the last month of the school year. So that's an easy one.
Score.

It's the month our youngest son was born.
Double score.

Mother's Day, Memorial Day, and Cinco de Mayo (for which only Americans "celebrate").
Score, score, and (kinda?) score.

It's also the month we bid farewell to a tiny one we never got to meet. It's the month of my dad's birthday that no longer carries the need for a phone call to the local radio station. And, tying in with that last one, it's the month he received a diagnosis that was so detrimental, I can tell you where I was and what I was wearing when I received the call.

There is no scoring on either one of those. Three days in May that are, indeed, rather depressing... not that we're keeping score.

(lol?)

Recap?

Let's start with the end of the school year. I have often wondered why "Teacher Appreciation Week" is part of the month of May. Trust me, in May, every teacher is good. Tired. Exhausted. Completely over every kid in the class, but good. The end is in the sight. Lesson plans are a formality in which we're not even sure anyone is paying attention. Grades are merely a last-ditch effort for saving that one kid from summer school. We are seriously just going through the motions... much like that last week before Christmas Break. Teacher Appreciation Day/Week/Month (however you wanna roll) should fall somewhere in that post-Christmas, January-apocalypse, February-praying-to-the-snow-gods* calendar pit where you re-evaluate your life choices and momentarily contemplate teaching in the penitentiary** just to ease the mind-numbing reality of being surrounded by students who already think they're in spring break while still complaining of freezing, mid-50s temperatures.***

(I apparently had to get that off my chest).

On to our youngest son. {Sigh} We have been blessed beyond measure. To brag on one would be to brag on all three. Each one brings us great joy... this one just happens to have a birthday in May.

Mother's Day. Memorial Day. Cinco de Mayo. Each one nothing more than a reason to eat, drink, and be merry (although the meaning of the first two is so much more understood than the latter). Lucky for you, however, I am in no mood for a history lesson today.

May 5, 1995. The day we said good-bye to the one who surely bore the trademark red hair. We'll leave that with no more. It hurts too much to ponder and life does move on. Some day we will meet again and even so, our cup overflows. I have never asked why.

May 7, 1947. May 23, 2014. What would mark the beginning for my dad and the totally unnecessary detour that marked his ending date. Again, we'll not camp out here, but for entirely different reasons. If I ask why on anything, this will be the one.

You see, I feel like he could have saved me from so much. He had a way of asking questions without really asking questions. I remember when I told him that I had agreed to move his beloved grandchildren (and let's not forget me) nine-hundred miles away. He never questioned me. Never told me I shouldn't. Just said keep this in mind and be sure you think about this. He and my mom both set the perfect example of how not to interfere, but simply let grown ups make grown-up decisions, even if it went against their very desire. A line of thinking totally way off base (for this particular entry) and most likely better reserved for the posthumous So-That's-What-She-Really-Wanted-To-Say! book.

Even so. The thread of my being holds true.

I'm in an upside-down world;
A conundrum of sorts.

Beautiful, confusing, hopeful.
A riddle yet to be solved.

Much like the month of May.

* I do not believe in snow gods. I believe in the one true God (although I have been known to agree to a "snow/ice dance" with one particular parent).

** I have no doubt these are great positions with excellent benefits and students motivated to learn. No offense intended. Seriously. Hook me up.

*** I, too, think that mid-50s are entirely too cold and every effort should be made to locate an electrical socket for the plug-in blanket I keep on stand-by no matter where I go.

And, finally, although I was weary of asterisks, if I ever do write a book, it'll be a doozy. You can bet every teacher's end-of-the-year smile on that one.

Awkward Silence

I went to bed last night around midnight only to stare at the ceiling for the next five hours. During that time, I (mentally) wrote a (brilliant) blog post entitled Everything I Can Do You Can Do Better. It had just the right amount of humor mixed with just the right amount of truth to let you, the reader, know that I, like you, grow weary of people who always have done the exact same thing you have done, just with a little more drama involved.

It truly is exhausting.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which side of the fence you sit on), I was not motivated in the least to actually get out of bed to put my thoughts to print. Instead, I perfected the grammar, tweaked a few punch lines, and rolled over while congratulating myself on a job well done. As the darkness of the room took on the gray tones of dawn, I drifted off to sleep only to dream about tornadoes and death for the second night in a row.

It's been tough around here, people.


(this is where the awkward silence comes in)


I honestly have nothing else to say.
Nothing inspirational. Nothing witty.

It'll hit me around three in the morning.


Except for this,


For my thoughts are not your thoughts, 
Neither are your ways My ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways
And My thoughts higher than your thoughts.

For as the rain and snow come down from the heavens,
And return not there again, but water the earth
And make it bring forth and sprout...

So shall My word be that goes forth out of My mouth:
It shall not return to Me void (without producing any effect)
But it shall accomplish that which I please and purpose
And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55: 8-11



I love it when He gets the last word. =)

And The Greatest Mom Award Goes To...

My mom, of course. =)

I think I have blogged about my mom every year, more than a few times and on many occasions, but especially when her birthday rolls around. I mean, really, can you ever say enough about your mom? I know I can't. She is truly one of the nicest people I know. She'll deny that and say things like, "Oh, if you only knew," but that's what I love about her. Even if she doesn't like you, chances are you won't catch onto it. I've seen her mad a few times. I've seen her disappointed now and then. When I think about her, though, I don't think of any one of those traits.

She's just my mom.

She loved me through what I can only imagine were truly terrible two's.
She loved me through all the awkwardness of those horrible teenage years.
She loved me through heartbreaks and those ridiculous high school proms.

She wrote me letter upon letter when I was in basic training. She advised me on the high cost of phone bills. She never questioned me when I called her one day just to say, "He's the one."

I could go on and on and achieve the kleenex level of writing in just a few more lines, but suffice to say, she has been there for every moment of my life.

Thanks, Mom.

And Happy St. Patrick's Day Birthday.

Pretty Awesome Stuff

It's that time again.

High School Sweethearts 1965

Still High School Sweethearts 2012

You have no idea the amount of pressure these two put on me and my own marriage.

I mean, here they are.

They've been through everything. They raised two kids; worked more than one job each to make ends meet; put a doll house together in the wee hours of a Christmas morning (only to have an excited little girl wide awake before dawn- one of their favorite stories to tell). They've seen one son go off to war, decorated a house with yellow ribbons, and breathed a sigh of relief the day he came home. They watched a daughter pack her family into a moving truck and drive far, far away.

(And due to time restrictions and the lack of kleenex close by, I'll stop there).

The point is, I think they're pretty awesome and the best kind of example a girl could have for her own life. Tomorrow they will celebrate their forty-seventh wedding anniversary and what would have been my grandma's ninety-fifth birthday. April 29th has always been a special kind of day.

I love you, Mom & Dad.

Silence Is Golden; Duct Tape Is Silver

I have been told that I am a good listener. To me, that's just the opposite of a good talker. Some people talk. Some people listen. I would rather not talk so therefore I listen. It's not that complicated and life appears fine and dandy until you consider the inevitable flaw in my non-socializing plan:

Who listens to the good listener when the good listener wants to talk?

I will answer that for you.

Nobody.

No, this is not some woe-is-me post. It's just a simple observation that has played out in my life over and over. I can be part of a conversation. There can be many people talking. I can politely wait my turn only to be cut off by the more expert talker. That's rude, yes, but that's not what hurts. What hurts is when no one notices I was interrupted by the expert talker and am no longer talking. Those moments totally wreck havoc on my already, awkward socializing skills.

Anyway.

I am chuckling as I write this. Like I said, this is not a kleenex-drenched rambling which you may have come to expect from me. These are just the thoughts that have been on my mind all week. Take me as I am. I am a deep well (I've actually been told that, by the way. I think it was a compliment).

At any rate, my mom reminded me tonight that I am a lot like her. That's all I needed to hear.

I'd pick her over any expert talker any day of the week.

hmph:

A sound, usually made with a closed mouth, indicating annoyance, indignation, or sighing.*

Apparently my last post with "My Secret To Happiness" in the title hasn't done so well in the virtual world. I am somewhat of a stat watcher- my biggest fan base is overseas, go figure.** Oh well. I'm sure people are just busy with other things like laundry and work and spring weather. Besides, I tend to skim over anyone else's cure for happiness myself. As long as my mom keeps reading, I'm good.

Back to the business at hand.

Thank God The Tomb Is Empty!

Strangely enough, my house is also about to be empty. We had plans for Easter dinner, but our intended guests came down with a stomach virus of some sort. When that fell through, I graciously offered one kid the opportunity to do as he pleased today and the word spread like wildfire. I've now got two sons spending the day with the families of the girlfriends and a daughter embarking on an Easter egg hunt with a friend. That leaves me, the husband, and our good Sunday clothes. This will be the first year ever that there hasn't been a ham baking in the oven.

I think I'll let someone else do the cooking today.

My mom always told me that once the kids grew up, things would be different. They're by no means grown and out of the house (well, one pretty much does as he pleases), but things are certainly different. Some things know no age limits, though... there were three chocolate bunnies lined up and standing at attention on the mantle this morning. Every kid I saw smiled as they walked by and plucked away their prize. I don't know if that crazy big bunny will every get to retire.

Happy Easter, Everyone!


*(en.wiktionary.org/wiki/hmph)
**sarcasm; not true; an inside joke

Dear Mom,

I am writing this a day early for two reasons:

1). The house is quiet at the moment, and
2). I don't know if it will be this quiet tomorrow.

If I haven't told you enough already, I really, really love you. If I haven't said thank you quite as often as I should, thank you, thank you, thank you. And, because I know it's been a few days since I probably told you this, I miss you.

Tomorrow is your birthday and I never did get that card in the mail. I know you'll say that I come by that honest, but still... I don't know why I put things like that off. I looked online to send you flowers yesterday, and yet everything I looked at just didn't add up to what I would want you to see or know or... something. I can't quite put it into words, but even the most beautiful and expensive bouquets were severely lacking what I would want to express. Besides, you would just tell me I shouldn't have spent my money and probably would've mailed me a check. That's just the way you are.

I'm learning alot of things here lately. Just when I thought I had this whole motherhood-thing figured out, life throws a new curve at me. I can feel that oldest of mine slipping away. I think I told you it was like he is "inching away, a little at a time." I suppose only a mother can understand how much that tears at the heart. I know I understand a little more of what you must have went through all those years back. First with my brother. Then with me. I'm glad to see him independent and happy and ready to tackle life on his own, and yet... yet, I wish he could still be a little boy if only for a short while. What am I gonna do when it becomes the next one's turn and then the next?

I will call you.

I will call you and tell you how happy I am that they are happy and how nice it will be to have that extra room in the house and most likely ramble on the way I am rambling now, but inside we will both know the same thing: Life as I knew it will never be the same.

Except for one thing,

If those kids will think of me the way I think of you now, then I am in for one of the greatest rewards life has to offer. I don't just love you, I admire you. If I can give you no other gift on your birthday, I can at least let you know that. You are one of the strongest women I know. I think of you as my best friend. These miles that separate us only served to prove the one thing that I know for sure:

I am nothing without the presence of my mother in my life.

Happy Birthday, Mom, a whole day early.

And P.S.

You really do have a gift in the works. I just get a little behind on things. I think I get that from you. =)

So This Is What Happened

One week ago today, the parents arrived shortly after the noon hour. Many happy hugs were exchanged and many wrapped presents were unloaded. We sat. We talked. We admired the Christmas tree. Around five o'clock that afternoon, I fired up the grill and exactly one hour later, set the table with pork chops and baked potatoes and steaming biscuits. We ate and talked and laughed and worried... my mom wasn't feeling good, but after a fifteen-hour drive with a short stay in an unfamiliar hotel, who could blame her? I helped her with dishes (and can I just add how much I enjoyed that?) and her next stop was a place on the couch to rest.

And then the stop after that was the emergency room at the hospital.

By one in the morning on a damp Christmas Eve, I had the most unfortunate experience of leaving my mother in a cramped hospital room approximately nine hundred miles from her home. I had planned on staying with her; my dad had planned on staying with her; but by the time we saw the room they had set her up in for observation, we both knew there would be no staying. I'll add walking out of that hospital to one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm sure staying in that hospital was one of the hardest things she's ever had to endure. It was a lousy start to a much anticipated visit.

We were back at her side in the morning- at least the part of the morning where there is light, and spent the entire day waiting for somebody to enlighten us on what was taking place in or around her heart. Supper was being served when she was told she wasn't going anywhere until some test or other was performed. Another heart-breaking experience. My dad and I headed back to the house to inform a now discouraged household that Granny wouldn't be with us Christmas morning. We vowed to dress up at least one kid like Santa and take presents to her and most of all, Smile! when we visited her the next day. For the second time in two nights, I cried like a baby in a dark, quiet room while the husband repeatedly apologized for moving us so far away.

Somehow, Santa Claus still managed to stuff some goodies into the three stockings of three teenagers in the midst of all this and we all prepared the next morning to spend our Christmas Day in that cramped hospital room. I was just stepping out of the shower when the husband peeked around the corner and said, You're mom called and said to come get her. I hurriedly halfway blow-dried my hair and had just sat down to my vanity (aptly named as the place to apply makeup) when the thought occurred, Who needs makeup at a time like this? Walking out of my bedroom to a now smiling family, I jokingly told my dad, Not one word about how I look, and we were out the door and in her hospital room within thirty minutes.

And by noon on Christmas Day, we were all gathered in our living room opening presents.

Only nobody really cared about the presents anymore.

The best present was sitting in a chair and helping me with dishes once again later that night

So what happened? Not a heart attack, but a heart out of whack. Something new decided to present itself that Sunday evening. That something will be checked out more thoroughly by her own doctor back home and hopefully, with medication, that something will be kept under control and finished with interfering with her life... especially when it comes to messing up her time with grandkids.

They hit the road just a little over an hour ago. The oldest and I stood on the front porch and watched until their taillights faded into the darkness of the street. I shut the door and turned the lock and let the tears fall.

Today is my birthday.

Are We Done Yet?

I had a feeling this senior year stuff was gonna wear me out. We still have thirty-six hours until the boy actually walks across a stage to accept that coveted diploma and I feel like we've already been through it. I keep reminding myself to enjoy every minute of this... this is HIS time to shine.

But, man oh man, this mama is tired.

Tonight he participated in a completer ceremony at our county tech school. He successfully completed three years in a skills program that has already paved the way for a full-time job he starts on Monday. He was awarded Student of the Year for a second time and we couldn't have been more proud.

But, boy oh boy, do those bleachers wear a person out.

My parents have been here this week as planned and the days seem to be flying by. The last few days my mom and I have been doing some shopping and in each place we go, I stop myself and think, "My mom is here." It sounds silly, I suppose, but there is something comforting about looking over racks of clothes or peering through shelves of trinkets and seeing your mom there. I wish they would never leave.

Tomorrow we will shop some more. Friday we will watch the boy graduate. And Saturday I'm counting on her to help me feed a house full of hungry people while my dad will no doubt entertain an audience that includes impressionable teenagers. I am really looking forward to it all. Mostly, though, I am looking forward to the long nap that is sure to follow.

I think we're all gonna need it.

Hello Mom!

I had a rather unique and unexpected thought while we were driving home tonight. The husband was fiddling with the radio, the kids were making entertaining and disturbing comments in the back, and I was thinking about my mom. Some days things happen or get said or fall apart and my first thought is always the same.

I can't wait to tell my mom.

It just kind of hit me out of the blue.

I've got amazing friends.
The husband is my best friend.
But my mom is my BFF.

That's Best Friend Forever.

Corny, I know, but true enough.

How lucky are we? 

My Day Does Not Include Falling Asteroids

This morning the middle and I head to the doctor for a quick check of his hand. He had yet another longboarding incident last Friday (my mom knows this now so I'm free to talk) and what should have been a minor fall landed him in the ER for an unsightly wound on his right hand. Three hours and five stitches later, we went home with the question, "Are you gonna tell Granny about this?" Doesn't a granny always find out, though? There is very little I don't tell my mom and when it comes to my kids... well, there isn't anything I don't tell her (as my kids think, WHAT?!). At any rate, his hand is pretty swollen at the moment and feels warm to the touch, so off to the doctor we will go. I'm expecting a prescribed round of antibiotics and a morning drop-off at school. It's going to be too nice of a day to sit around in a doctor's office.

And a nice day it will be, indeed. Temps back up to the mid-70s have me planning on opening every window in the house and doing some serious cleaning. I'm not proud to say that I have let this house go in the last week or so, but an afternoon of me staying focused ought to change that. I've been spending most afternoons sitting outside reading my literature homework which, for the most part, I have really enjoyed. The house (and the fridge) have suffered, though. I haven't been grocery shopping since last week and today we are officially out of sugar. What Sweet Italian Creme is for my coffee, a cup and three-quarters worth of sugar is necessary for our tea. The family will slip into a slow meltdown if I don't have a pitcher of the state drink of the south on hand for them to sip.

On a random note, the youngest was informing me this morning of solar flares while the husband was telling me yesterday about asteroid insurance. We stood under the stars for the longest time last night talking a universe that is too big for us to know everything about.

And I can't even venture down that road right now.
I've got too much to get done today that leaves no room for philosophy.
Besides, I'd rather enjoy the world than analyze it.

Happy Cleaning!

Priorities

Things that make me laugh:
My husband. My kids.
And thirty-some hits within three minutes of posting a blog entry entitled Hot Booties?

Things that make me cry:
My husband. My kids.
And reading what my dad writes in the cards that he sends.

Things that make me thankful for the life I've been given:
All of the above. All of the below.
And everything else that comes in between.



The last time this group sat together.

My mom. My daughter. My grandma and me.

My present, future, and past... in that particular order.



Somebody Swapped My Itinerary

Since last Saturday morning, I have...

Endured two separate flights departing from two separate states that only bounced my head off the side of the plane once, felt a little shaky more than a few times due to high winds, and were blissfully baby-free (and I love babies, just not crying ones in enclosed places where I have no place to hide).

Talked to my youngest probably more than I have all year, or at least since the summer when the kids were the ones away visiting. I also just received a compliment from my husband earlier tonight that went something like, I don't know how you do this (referring to the kids and the grocery shopping and the laundry and everything else that needs to get done on any given day).

Shopped with my dad for a deer tag and a bright orange vest and how-to booklets and anything else he could think of for a much anticipated deer hunting weekend. We also bought shells (as in shot-gun) and practice targets for a little friendly competition before some unfortunate deer becomes his primary target.

Made a 911 call that same afternoon (that had nothing to do with the aforementioned friendly competition and everything to do with his uncooperative heart) and spent the next six hours sitting in a freezing cold emergency room. My mom and I have made daily trips since that day to the hospital to visit my dad. He is doing well, thanks for asking.

Passed the time in the hospital by crocheting a new scarf, eating no-so-bad cafeteria food (they even have a coffee shop!), and learning interesting stories about my dad's side of the family: Pony Express riders, links to Jesse James, and a whole series of Are you kidding me? type stuff. I have also been entertained by memories of my parent's first years together. The proposal alone could be a blog entry all on its own.

Yep, you just never know what a day or week might bring.
So far this trip has been far from boring.
I am so glad I am here.

Miss you Oldest, Middle, Youngest, HUSBAND.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
And my heart's pretty fond. =)

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)

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.

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.

Saturday Mornings

I was just thinking how quiet a Saturday morning usually is around here. Two out of three kids are usually up before I am and well into their individual cyberworlds while the third one doesn't come up for air till noon. The husband is always busy on someone else's project trying to make some extra weekend cash and doesn't reappear around the house till late afternoon for lunch (or supper, depending on the time). When I finally do get up, my spot on the couch stays occupied with coffee-in-hand while I watch a couple of episodes of Raven and one of Hannah Montana (that's what we get for sticking to free tv courtesy of an antenna). Anyway, the point is the house is usually very quiet.

Not today. In just the last few hours I've endured two electric guitars being simultaneously played on the back porch (still going as we speak), two preteen girls roaming around telling me how bored they are (in fairness, it's just MY girl telling me how bored SHE is), and a house cat that wandered unnoticed off the front porch to stubbornly refuse to come out from UNDER the front porch (wouldn't give it much thought except he has no front claws). For us, that's quite an eventful morning.

The front porch is nice. There's a slight breeze, birds are chirping, water is trickling, and I can only hear faint streams of guitar music filtering through the windows... of course, the fact that they are on the back porch and I'm on the front suggests that the amps are no longer set on volume one. All in all, though, I suppose it's not a bad way to start off a Saturday. I still miss my mom, still have this mysterious pain in my chest that won't leave me alone, and still have one too many papers to write before the sun goes down tomorrow; but I guess I'll enjoy this not-the-usual Saturday while it's here. 

Wonder what those boys would do if I plugged in a microphone and joined them...