Home

There's a gleam in your eyes, said my husband. It must be because you're home. He knows he's right.

It is good to be home. Everything is predictable. The town is the same. Dad has his recliner. Mom took us shopping.

The kids have already argued and will most likely continue to do so. We spent money on parts today for a vehicle that is always needing something fixed. The cat is moody. Some things just don't change.

And that feels good. No traffic. Meeting family members in Walmart. Sitting at a table with my parents. Drying dishes for my mom.

Will we get bored? Most likely. Will we be lonely? Never.

It really is the most wonderful time of the year. It's time to be home.

Treasure From Christmas Parties Past

I should be bustling around trying to get everything ready for this weekend. Instead, I feel like I've been put into slow motion and can't quite get anything done. You would think I have all the time in the world to finish laundry, wrap presents, shop for snacks, go to the library, take in the trash, and pack. But I don't have all the time in the world. I've got tonight.

Blame it on the day. The day before Christmas Break was one of my favorite days at school. That and the Last Day of School, of course. The day before Christmas Break, though, always brought parties and cupcakes and candy canes and presents for the teacher. And I've got to admit that last part was always my favorite.

The things a student gives their teacher. Doesn't really matter if it was third grade or junior high (and I've taught everything in between), those gifts can get pretty interesting. I've got coffee mugs and ornaments, pretty pins and Christmas stockings... once I even got a shark's tooth in a box. I always labeled everything so I wouldn't forget who gave it to me and have every card in a ribbon-tied stack. I think the best part was always watching their face when I peeked in a gift bag or read a card aloud. Every kid wants to feel special. I hope I always made them feel that way.

And that's that. I can hardly see for trying not to cry now so I best move on. I miss those days, but I thank God I had them.

It's time to focus on the laundry.

Waiting To Breathe

The closer it gets to Saturday, the easier I can breathe.

That was my facebook status, and there is more truth to that than you can possibly know.

I'll be close to family. I'll be close to friends. I'll be close to my mom.

I'll have breakfast with my dad. And watch tv with him. I heard he has quite a few episodes of the "Deadliest Catch" recorded just because he knows I like that and I've been limited to an antenna for quite a few years now. If he's recorded over it? Who cares. That's why they made re-runs.

I'll go shopping with my mom and she'll insist on paying. That's not what motivates me, though. It's just being with someone that cares. Someone that wants to be with you. Someone you love.

I know I have nothing to complain about. I didn't choose this path, but things could always be worse. My husband loves me. My kids are happy. There is a Starbucks less than ten minutes down the road.

But in just a few days, I'll be able to breathe again. No trying to be happy. No making it through just another day. But life.

And I am going to live every moment because if I've learned anything in life, it's that those moments worth living don't last that long.

And I intend on breathing every moment.

The Game of Life

Normally I read and think about life. Lately I've been playing the game of Life. I think I would rather be reading.

After all, the actual board game is not very realistic. If you choose to bypass college, you pretty much get an instant paycheck. If you choose the college path, you graduate with a guaranteed job to go along with that instant paycheck. Oh, and pay raises are $10,000 a pop. And for each new baby each player has to give you $5,000. There may be things along the way that decrease your funds... tonight, for instance, a tornado wiped out my mobile home and I had to pay $120,000... waaay more than the place was worth. In the end, though, all of us playing retired with well over a million dollars. If only that were true.

Maybe I should write about If My Life Were A Board Game. The first game that comes to mind in that case would be Sorry! Just like the game, I can feel like I'm moving along at a good pace when suddenly somebody (or something) gives me the boot back to Start Here. Or Battleship, one of my all-time favorites. I think it must be the strategy that comes after a little guess work with that game... that and the somewhat strangely satisfying feeling that comes with sinking the other guy's ship. Makes me feel like I've accomplished something. I like that.

Life is not a board game, though. It certainly doesn't clean up as easy as one. I think I'll stick to books. Sometimes I look at my daily life and compare it with whatever I'm reading. It's not as crazy as it sounds. Tonight I cooked a casserole for supper simply because the book I just finished had a mom doing the same thing. I loved how something so simple had such a wonderful description. Words like "bubbling" and "warm from the oven" made me want to bring it to life. Often I wonder how any particular event (in real life) might be described if it was put into words and printed in black and white. There really is something magical about the written word.

As for the game of Life? Well, I suppose there is a certain magic to that, too. My husband was a lawyer boasting about all his money when the opportunity arose for me to sue him. Twice.

The little things that make me smile.

We Are Those Kind Of Parents

Our oldest had a post-birthday party last night with his friends. At his request, he invited a few friends over, Dad orchestrated a roaring bonfire, and I provided enough hot dogs, soda, and s'mores to feed a small army. A hundred foot (or something like that) electrical cord was stretched across the backyard to provide power to an amp plugged into an electric guitar and radio. Everything was perfect. Everything... except the parents wouldn't leave.

Out of the nine kids present including our own, two were boyfriend/girlfriend couples, both of which belonged to us. At least the boys belonged to us. No way we were leaving them alone. On one side of the fire was a row of teenagers all lined up; on the other side were the parents. The battle lines had been drawn and Mom and Dad weren't going anywhere. I'm pretty sure they didn't see the humor in it, but we did.

We are those kind of parents! The kind that won't leave you alone to just give you and your friends some space. In all fairness, we didn't interfere with the kids... we just kept to our side of the fire talking about things that would not interest them anyway. We laughed with them when they played the Chubby Bunny game ~ how many jumbo marshmallows can a normal human being put in their mouth (no chewing!) and still say "Chubby Bunny"? Who knew? Thank goodness plastic bags were provided for those that, well, shall we say (gag) couldn't (gag) quite make that happen (puke). Pure teenage fun.

Other than one girl's explanation of sexual harassment, the s-e-x conversations were non-existent. When one particular song on the radio began to use the f-word over and over, we asked them to change the station. The boy that got a little too cozy with his girl? He got the evil stare. Other than that, you would never even know we were there.

Ha! Right. We were there, they knew it, and who cares? When it was all said and done, kids went away laughing about marshmallows and basketball in the dark. I felt good that knowing that when parents dropped them off and picked them up, they saw us. That is exactly what I want when I take our kids to somebody else's house. I always thought I wanted to be the cool parent... then my kids turned twelve. And fourteen. And seventeen. "Cool" flew out the window as "let's just keep them in one piece and without a police record until they graduate." Funny how those priorities change.

Today the birthday boy was walking through the house when he stopped to say, "Thanks for everything last night, Mom. I really had a lot of fun."

No "wish you'd left us alone."
No "why'd you have to stare at me like that...she was only whispering in my ear."
No "can't believe you made me change the song."

Just "I really had a lot of fun."

And that's all a mom really needs to hear. I may have been tired of standing and freezing and so what if I drank one too many rootbeers? I guess I had fun, too... even if I was on the wrong side of the fire.

Stocking Hats Are My Friend

As I picked up my daughter in the school carline Friday afternoon, she gave me a subtle look that clearly stated she was unhappy with my appearance. Because I had not washed my hair or bothered with contacts and makeup, I opted for a stocking hat, sweat pants, and my totally uncool glasses. Later, one of the boys remarked that he didn't understand why she cared. You're just a mom. Nobody cares what you look like. Words I'm sure that were meant to reassure me. Somehow they missed their mark.

He went on to try to explain himself. Afterall, he said, nobody wants to be the one checking out someone's mom. That would just be weird. He did have a point. I can't think of anyone that I would care to try to impress in a carline and the thought of trying to impress my kids' friends? Ewwww. I am so not one of those mothers. I drive a mini-van, for crying out loud. What does that girl of mine expect?

It does make me chuckle, though. I'm a mom of teenagers and just weeks away from my fortieth birthday. I spend more time trying to cover up the dark circles under my eyes than I do on my hair, and yet that girl of mine evidently thinks I could be doing a little bit more with myself. Of course, it was just that one day. She could cut me a little slack. Maybe I'll fix myself up for her for Monday's carline. That would be fun just for her reaction. The things I do to entertain myself.

But then again, I am just a mom. If I don't entertain myself, no one will.

Take The Good When You Can Get It

Ahhhh... Christmas Shopping.

I was wrapping presents this morning when I realized I had nothing for one of the kids. The older they get, the harder they are to buy for. All they want is money. Well, money is no fun to wrap so I set out to do a little shopping.

I'm not much of a shopper. I've said that before. But today I was in the mood and let me tell you, it was one fun day. I called my husband first because I'm a good wife and he makes all the money. He said go for it. Dangerous words.

I was missing my mom as I pulled through the drive-thru for a cheeseburger happy meal. While sitting at a red light eating that cheeseburger happy meal, a car in the lane next to me ran the light and slammed into another car in the intersection. I momentarily thought about turning around and going home. It's things like this that have made me into the homebody that I am. I decided to stick to the plan. And the plan was to shop.

At my first stop I spent a good hour just wandering around and was able to cross a few people off my list. I lingered way too long in the baby section wishing I could buy Little Miss Lily every cute outfit I saw. I even caught myself smiling. A lot. And when I was waiting to check out and people around me were grumbling non-stop, I really didn't mind. Let 'em complain. Today was a good shopping day. 

On my next stop I watched a battle-for-a-parking-spot drama unfold before me. Good thing I don't mind walking. No spot is worth that hassle. I wandered this store for another hour and crossed a few more people off my list. I avoided anything to do with baby and concentrated on the grown-up stuff. The cart I was pushing must have only had three working wheels and the racket it was making was a little embarrassing. It was all good, though. I was on a roll.

I thought of two people on my list who like Starbucks. I like Starbucks. If I have to stop in to pick up an item or two, I might as well have a coffee. Later at home when the table was covered with wrapping paper and boxes and all that goes with it, I thought we might as well order a pizza. I like pizza. Supper was ready as soon as the pizza guy arrived. The day seemed just about perfect.

Then life kicked in. I got mad because kids were grumbling and once my lecture got started it was difficult turn off. My youngest made a comment about red hair and tempers and something about green eyes and fire (not sure where she was going with that one). I threatened to take all the Christmas presents away and ended up in the kitchen saying THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO BE A GOOD DAY! to no one in particular.

Things have calmed down since then unless you count the one kid still grumbling while another one fires off insults through a closed door. I have no desire to address either issue. Instead, I'm going to admire the tree one last time before I climb under an electric blanket and read my newest library book.

Because today was a good day. A good shopping day. And those don't happen very often in my world.