My Co-Pilot & Me

If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you probably understand that the youngest is my grandma all over again. Always busy. Usually sewing. Frequently baking. For the last few days she has been tucked away in her room alternating between cleaning, reading, and sewing a stack of quilt blocks. She's out of the house at the moment, but the tunes from her radio can still be heard drifting through the open windows. A song caught my attention and made me think of our road trip last week.

And for the record,

I do not promote girls in in orange shorts, 'shine, or "lightin' one up."

I gotta tell you, though, if we sang this song once, we sang it at least twenty times on our thirty-one hour road trip with the girl and me. She is the official bleeper of any and all curse words and Dr. Pepper is our substitute of choice for any mentioned drink of an alcoholic nature (this is my daughter we're talking about here).

We sure had a lot of fun.

We were tired. We got kinda loopy. We missed an exit once.

We saw a motorcycle fatality which was a sobering sight.
We saw Dale Jr's racing team which was driving way too fast.

We yelled "HOT DOG!" one too many times.

We were stuck in construction work,
stuck in rush-hour traffic, and
stuck in a car for way too long.

I can't wait to do it again.

Thanks for joining me, little lady

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.

I Know I Said Farewell Yesterday, But...

Apparently I'm not done just yet. I mean, I thought I would back away from this computer for a while and yet here I sit. Oh well. My intentions don't always match up to future actions. The parents are on the way; they just made a pit stop to catch up on some sleep last night. If all goes well, we should be seeing them around noon. At least they're finally in the same time zone as me. So here I am. Clean house. Laundry done. Presents neatly arranged under the Christmas tree. Twiddling my thumbs.

I've never been the best at waiting.

One time during a prayer before supper, a beautiful child of mine uttered these words, And give my mom more patience. My eyes flew open and I said, Quick! Take that back! Don't ever ask the Lord for more patience! I forced a laugh to relieve the shocked look on the faces around me, but seriously... do any of you out there know what I mean? There was a time when I prayed for more patience. There was also a time when I prayed the prayer of Jabez. I'll not make that mistake again. I rarely pay attention to any of the latest prayer trends that cross my path anymore. Jabez ruined it for me.

Disclaimer: Click the above link to learn more about the prayer of Jabez and please understand, if you haven't figured me out yet, that most of my comments are sprinkled (okay, DOUSED) with sarcasm. I do stand by the theory, however, that it was that prayer about expanding my territory and all that that sparked the bright idea of a cross-country move into the husband's head years ago- which is why I now think before I pray ( go ahead and laugh) and the virtue of patience is just something that I accept I need to work on. I don't ask for it.

Moving on.

I have successfully twiddled away one full hour.
A second cup of coffee. A piece of cake. Looking out the window.

I think I'll go wake somebody up.

They love me around here. =)

Memories, December, And Pictures To Go With It

The second of December? Good Lord. Where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday I was trudging through knee-deep snow in the Rocky Mountains hoping to induce labor...  that and walking up and down a flight of steps during every commercial break of The Young and The Restless and As The World Turns (my soap opera days). I can't remember my exact due date with the oldest. I think it was November 27th at first and was later changed to December 9th, or something like that. Doesn't matter. He arrived just when he was suppose to, somewhere in the middle of those two guessing dates on the morning of December 4, 1993.

I remember the night before his birth so clearly that it's almost eerie. I'm sure I am not alone in that some memories are so exact, so right there, I swear my mind could fool myself if only for a short time. I was wearing a light blue and white-striped button down, short-sleeved shirt. The husband came home from his Army duties to a supper of Hamburger Helper Chili Mac and after the sun went down, we sat in a dark living room of our rented town home on the ugliest-couch-known-to-man looking at the twinkling lights on our first Christmas tree together. Around ten o'clock we went to bed and around eleven o'clock I knew something felt different. A few hours later, I called the maternity ward at the hospital, described what I was feeling to the friendly Air Force nurse, and was assured that I was not in labor.

She was wrong.

I remember the husband insisting we take our little baby carrier and my packed bag to the hospital when I finally woke him up and we left our home around three in the morning. I told him there was no need, the lady said it wasn't labor, and that they would probably give me something to help my stomach (keep in mind this was my first, my mom wasn't close by, and the book did not describe anything I was feeling). Ever the practical man, he said he wasn't making a trip back to get everything and he was pretty sure this was the big moment.

He was right.

That little boy showed up a little after six-thirty that morning and we made the happy calls to the grandparents. The next day, we loaded that little baby seat into the backseat of a Mustang where I hovered beside him terrified of all the passing cars on the freeway. I can still see us arriving back at our town home, setting our tiny little bundle still in his baby seat on that ugly couch, and looking at each other. We had nobody but us and I don't mind admitting that I felt utterly helpless. Nine months was suddenly not nearly enough time to prepare for our new family of three and our home felt a lot different than a fully staffed maternity ward. Thank God for that man. He sprang into action and by the end of that first hour had me settled into our not-so-ugly rocking-chair holding the most beautiful baby ever while he lined up bottles and stacked diapers and did everything else that needed to be done. It took a few more days of this same pattern before he looked at me and said, Wanna take him to see your parents?

And that's what we did... took a less-than-one-week-old baby on a fourteen-hour drive from the Rocky Mountains to the Midwest (in DECEMBER, of all times) and gave my mom and dad the surprise of their life.

One of my all-time favorite memories.

The tree we sat looking at on the evening of December 3rd.

Surprising my parents a week later.

The striped blue and white shirt and the ugly couch .

The not-so-ugly rocking chair.

Define Slacker

My dearest daughter recently referred to me as a slacker for not blogging in over a week.

A slacker?
Quite possible.

I could say I've had nothing new to blog about, but that would not be completely true. I have been busy lately and have even had somewhat of a life. Last week, for instance, I traveled with a good friend to a part of the Midwest that was pretty close to my parents... so close, in fact, that they made a four-hour drive and rented a hotel room for a couple of nights just for the chance to see me. Talk about making a girl feel special.

I had a great time, too. Besides having the opportunity to shop a little with my mom and follow my dad's directions to a dive of a place to eat (inside joke), I got to spend some much-needed friend time with my... well, friend. We watched strangers in the airport and talked to strangers in the hotel and listened to strangers on the plane. We laughed and talked and napped on an airport couch for no good reason. Good times.

In the back of my mind, though, has been that last job interview I went on (remember the last post with my sharpie-corrected pants?). I have yet to hear anything which I am assuming most likely means another no thank-you. In addition, my main mode of transportation decided to take an unplanned siesta and is still sitting out-of-commission in my backyard. Thank goodness our back-up plan with over two-hundred thousand miles remains faithful.

Wait a minute. I wrote about car trouble in the last post, didn't I?
See what I mean? Things have been happening, but nothing has changed.

I really do feel like a slacker.

Good thing the NFL season kicks off tomorrow night. The referee situation may be questionable, but my place on the couch is not. Combine that with the return of Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte and my day to volunteer at the museum, and and the mid-week might bring hope yet.

Thanks, dearest daughter, for keeping tabs on your mother.

You are my inspiration.

Winding Down

Well, this past week we had a chance to put miles of pavement on our odometer and cross more than a few state lines in the process. We traded triple-digit heat for triple-digit heat, scoped out a few houses for sale, spent quality time with family and friends, and fixed a flat. Not bad for a whirlwind of a week.

I always dread the drive back and the world to which that takes us. It's nice to be in the place I think we should have never left to begin with, but that's an old story. We had a nice break anyway. This trip was a little bit different because the oldest was not with us. He's a working man, you know.

I guess I don't have any room to complain. The fellowship was great. The food was fantastic. The coffee reigned supreme (a plug for THE best coffee shop east or west of the Mississippi). I do feel recharged and ready to go back and face whatever may come. Besides, there might be something brewing.

In the meantime, I'll go back to doing what I do best.

Holding the fort together.
Reading way too much.
And taking up space in the shade.

At least I got that road trip out of my system.

Send Me A Postcard

I read other bloggers' posts and look at other facebookers' pictures and think to myself,  "Wow. I am doing absolutely nothing."

I've been fighting the urge to hit the road and take a long trip to nowhere. Somehow I think miles and miles of interstate and a few Cracker Barrels along the way would clear my head. Then I think about my checkbook and gas tank and wonder if I would be better off staying put, so put I am staying... at least for another week.

In the meantime, I'll live my summer through the rest of you.

Keep traveling. =)

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. =)

Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder!

I hate flying. My husband finds this hilarious because I was in the Air Force. So? I tell him. Being in the Air Force has nothing to do with a love of planes. It has everything to do with your big brother telling you that's the direction you ought to go. Sheesh. I thought everybody knew that.

But fly I must if I want to get home. And home is where I want to get. My other home. The home where my mom is. And my dad, too. They're making the trek to the big city to pick me up so the least I can do is drag my fly-fearing, plane-dreading self to that airport and make my way onboard.

My bag is packed.
The cupboards are stocked.
I just wish I had a tranquilizer.

Wake me up when we get there, please.

I Am A Mom Again

I had a few days away from the house.
A brief escape from laundry and cooking and playing referee.
All it took was a friend, a vehicle, and a place to stay.




Scenic Views

 

Carriage Rides





Endless Walking



Beautiful Homes



Eternal Bliss



Living History



Coastal Waterways



Majestic Wonders



Awesome Structures



I ate too much.

Laughed too much.

And most likely talked too much.

I wandered through antique shops.

Gazed at freakishly strange people.

And got spooked at a haunted house.

But as my girl said,

I was glad to get home.

And they were all glad I brought candy.

There's no place like home.