Growing Pains That Feel Good

Typically I would bemoan the fact that my kids are growing up... you know, the "I'm so proud of them, but where have my babies gone" song. Trust me, I know that one well. Today, however, I found myself singing a different kind of tune.

The kind that lowered our phone bill.

A month or so ago (I do tend to get a little behind on these things), the middle proudly made his own cell phone purchase with his own cell phone plan. "I've got this, Mom," he said. Indeed, he did. When I made the customer service call today to officially drop his line from our family plan, the nice lady asked me why I was cancelling that particular service. I simply said, "My boy is moving on and taking care of it himself."

What a grand feeling.

In addition to that happiness at the end of the rainbow, the oldest told me recently that I can drop him from our insurance because, to paraphrase and echo the words of his brother, "I've got this, Mom."

It really doesn't take much to make me smile.

Ode to the Waffle House

The time has changed.

The clock dutifully adjusted.

This is the day of springing forward... and a whole lot of people grumbling.

I, for one, have never really minded the whole clock-changing thing. After all, it's just time, and an hour at that. We humans have a knack for whittling away an hour on a daily basis.

Mindless television.
Mindless internet.

Mindless gossip after church on Sunday.

Of course, the latter always includes that all-saving phrase, "I'm just asking so I know better how to pray." We all know that good Christians don't gossip; they make prayer lists and utilize a prayer chain to spread the word about a marriage gone bad or a job lost to an addiction.

Back to the time issue, though, before I have my own name added to that prayer list...

Time is a funny thing. We can use it to our advantage or let it remind us of our failures. I know this is going to be the oddest comparison, but consider this.

Waffle House.

In my opinion (I heard you laugh), Waffle House has got the art of time and organization down to a science. Case in point: the oldest has been home this weekend and yesterday he and I sat at the counter of a local Waffle House during a hectic breakfast hour. If you've never been in such an establishment, the only way I can describe it to you is it's like being in the middle of a very busy kitchen. There are no walls separating the customers from the cooks and any time I've been there, it's entertainment at its finest. Orders are being called out, eggs are being cracked open, and plates are being washed. As we sat there yesterday watching these people doing their jobs (and doing them cheerfully, I might add), I remarked how many employees there were in that small behind-the-counter space.

I counted ten.

Ten people working in what appeared to be a perfectly orchestrated event. Everyone had a job. They squeezed by each other, laughed it off if something went wrong, and stayed focused on the tasks at hand. I'm telling you, there has to be a study somewhere on the leadership style that trains this kind of staff and work ethic at Waffle House. When you can get your pecan waffle served hot right off the griddle in the midst of a dozen other orders being completed at the same time... well, somebody knows how to manage time.

Maybe the whole Waffle House scenario is not the best comparison to the whole losing-an-hour thing that we woke up to today, but I think it does serve as a good reminder that it's up to us to make the most out the time we're given. Whining and debating about an hour here or there does us no good. It is just a clock.

And that clock is reminding me that it's time to get moving.

I'm suddenly in the mood for another waffle.

Read At Your Own Risk (which means "avoid at all costs"if you're feeling good about love right now)

Oh, man.

It's that time of the year with the red and the pink and the flowers and the chocolate and all the other stuff (have you seen that stupid, huge teddy bear for sale on television that the ladies are lovin' on in a creepy sort of way?). All of it, creepy or not, reminds single people that they're single and married people that they're married.

As if we needed reminders.

Typically I would venture back in time and repost my rather opinionated It Stinks To Be Single Day (a good read, says the author), but I think I'll venture out on a limb for this one.

How do I really feel?

I would really like for my dashing husband to swoop into my workplace wearing a suit and tie with a dozen pink roses in his hand. Why my workplace? So everybody can see how much I am loved, of course. After all, what good is love if we can't parade it in front of those less fortunate?

(and the mean monster of sarcasm rears its ugly head)

So... that's the dream. Here's the reality.

My dashing husband will not show up at my workplace because he will be, well... working. If he did show up in a suit and tie, I would wonder who died. And if a dozen pink roses were in his hand?

Well, I would most likely be written up for that infamous three-letter abbreviation known as

Public
Display (of)
Affection.

After all, pink roses are my weakness and I am rather in love with the man.

Listen,

I'm a girl. I'm all for romance, but come on... romance isn't romance if it's forced and especially if it's because your significant other is only doing it because they don't want to hear from you if they don't.

Like that made any sense.

Am I bitter? Not really. I've done the whole dozen roses/teddy bear/chocolate thing in the dark corners of my past. That fool (ahem, young man) only loved me when it was for a convenient, public display. I'll have no part of that again.

Do I wish my husband would surprise me with flowers more often? Sure. I'm not an idiot, but I'm also not a whiner (don't laugh). Flowers aren't cheap and there are other ways for him to show me he cares*.

Am I jealous of others already posting their feel-good love updates? Maybe. Like I said, I do like all that girly stuff, but I just don't get the mushy stuff put out there for the purpose of likes and/or comments.

I know, I know. You are not posting that stuff for the purpose of likes and/or comments. You're just so much in love that you want to share it with the world via all avenues of social media.

(and with that, I am certain to have offended someone)

A thousand apologies. You're right. I am jealous.

(down with you, sarcasm!)

But seriously,

And I promise this is it...

My thoughts this week are with my mother and uncle who will be missing their sweethearts this Saturday. My thoughts this week are with my aunt who will mark a full year without her sweetheart on Saturday. And my thoughts this week are with those who struggle with the question of why they are still alone (or feel alone) through this cruel and commercialized season of pink and red that will finally climax on Saturday.

Make no mistake.

I love love.

I just don't love the nonsense.




*And just to prove to some of you that I'm not entirely heartless, here's a picture of the best Valentine's Day gift ever from my sweetheart. Granted, it's covered with dust and hasn't seen the light of day for a good two years or so, but that's my own fault. Even when I fight the cobwebs to look at it, I can't help but smile when I remember what was genuinely a perfect day that occurred in the midst of a rather difficult storm.

My Pink Valentine Bike, circa 2011

Ahhhhhhh.... I really do have a sentimental side.


Happy It Stinks To Be Single Day!  =)

The Calendar Shows No Mercy

Last Friday I received a somewhat frantic call from the home front that went something like this,

Our internet has been shut off.

Now I won't give away the family member with the noticeable tremor in the voice, but suffice it to say, there was the faintest whisper of terror at the suggestion of no Netflix for the weekend. I was still at work trying to get a handle on a stack of papers to grade, but I did pause for a moment to ponder the situation.

When did I last pay that bill?

Through the power of mobile banking, a quick check revealed that last time was, in fact, December.

December?

December.

No wonder they cut that baby off.

When I tell you that my life turned upside down the moment my dad left this world, I mean it. I can't seem to focus on anything of importance, I obviously have lost all track of time, and things that use to be at the top of my to-do list (paying bills, for instance) have fallen by the wayside. I think things I shouldn't, visualize things I shouldn't, and (truth be told) say things I shouldn't. It's like the back end of a roller coaster car got knocked off track and I, the only passenger, am praying like crazy that I don't go tumbling down with it. As much as I love a good thrill ride, I am ready to put this one to rest.

Needless to say, one phone call later and a rather swift withdrawal of funds through the wonder of electronic banking, our internet was back on before the signs of withdrawal became too evident and it's a good thing...

One unstable person at a time is all we can handle around here.

Define Crazy

I looked in the dictionary. Several of them, different centuries, all Webster. Crazy is one definition that doesn't change much over time.

Deranged.

Decrepit.

Insane.

In none of those definitions did I find the phrase only affects women, and yet women are the ones I hear who most often refer to themselves as crazy.

Crazy Mom.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

Crazy (Word I Can't Say On A Blog My Mom Reads).

Why is that? 

I've been reading several stories lately about women who have evidently lost their minds over things like kids and husbands, dishes and laundry, co-workers and grocery clerks. All these women share a common theme that can sometimes accompany crazy...

Jail time.

I get it. We get crazy over things we are passionate about, but crazy to the point of the infamous mug shot in an orange jumpsuit? Who has that kind of time (or energy, for that matter)? And yes, I know the phrase "Mess with my kid and you mess with me." Like I said, I do get it, but come on... craziness for the sake of being crazy is just plain

CRAZY.

Take a deep breath. Think it over. Come up with a solid game plan that- and I'm just throwing this out there- does not involve social media and your crazy self. 

It's Superbowl Sunday, people. Eat a chicken wing, drink a cold beverage, and leave the crazy to what I anticipate the halftime show being tonight.

Walmart Lines Are So Long I Get Completely Philosophical (Or Something Like That)

You know, I knew that sooner or later I would go here.

I just didn't expect to go here today.

While waiting for what seemed forever and a lifetime in the Walmart check-out line, I observed many, many things. Kids, mostly unsupervised, bouncing from one end of the line to another. Gawking at candy. Crawling on the floor. Whining about blankets. Totally and undeniably annoying.

There was one boy with who I instantly fell in love with- might have been his red hair, but he mostly stood close to who I assume to be his great-grandmother and pretended he was knee-deep in a jungle somewhere, machine gun sounds at all. When it came time for granny to load her items onto the the check-out thing, he helped and stacked and beamed with pride when she dropped something and he picked it up for her. When she told him to put on his coat, he dutifully zipped it up and patiently stood guard while she paid for her purchases.

Man, did that make me think of my own little boys.

There were magazine covers screaming immorality from every glossy issue and since we're on the subject, can someone please tell me how Cosmopolitan gets away without having to sport a brown wrapper to conceal its obviously very adult themes in every issue? Good Lord. There are things that just don't need to be in the check-out line, people. Seriously, if there are problems in that department, go home and google it in the privacy of your home.

But I digress.

If you've paid any attention to headlines in the past six months or so, then you have no doubt heard about the young lady diagnosed with terminal brain cancer who chose to end her life on her own terms, so to speak. Without a doubt, there are arguments for both sides of this discussion and I am not here to spark the debate on that. What I am here for, however, is to present a very public thank you to my father for not making that decision, no matter how unpleasant the ending may have been. You see, there was the beauty of life in all that unpleasantness.

As I stood in that check-out line watching a little red-headed boy and thinking about the young woman's life that ended way too soon (her choice or not), I unlocked the treasure chest of memories tucked back in the recesses of my mind and pictured my daddy as he was in those final days. No, he would not have wanted things to be the way they were, but if he had ended his journey in his own timing, we would have missed the gift of his passing. He didn't just go to sleep, he literally left this world. We witnessed it just as you and I would watch someone walk out a door.

I miss my father terribly, and yet when I think about that moment, my heart is at peace in knowing all is well. And no, I don't know how I would react if a doctor's report was to paint a traumatic ending to my life here on earth; I can only pray and believe that God's grace would be sufficient to see me through to His timing and not my own. Surely where we are weak, He is strong. If He is for me, who can be against me?

By my God, I can leap over a wall.

Even if that wall is death.

I know what waits on the other side.

If you are struggling with God's timing, whatever the situation may be, I would encourage you to stand strong and just... wait. Even as I stood in that line and thought about how our little family of five has grown from babies to toddlers to teenagers to independent young adults, I was reminded that nothing stays the same forever. Situations that we feel locked in have a way of changing faster than that Seattle-Green Bay game last night (and if you're not into football, I'll translate that into "pretty darn quick").

I truly believe His timing is perfect.

And redheads rock the world.

For you cause my lamp to be lighted and to shine;

 the Lord my God illumines my darkness.

 For by You I can run through a troop,

 and by my God I can leap over a wall.

 As for God, His way is perfect!

 The word of the Lord is tested and tried;

 He is a shield to all those who take refuge

 and put their trust in Him.

 For who is God except the Lord?

 Or who is the Rock save our God? 

Psalm 18: 28-31

A Reason To Pause

In a day that's been full of a whole lot of (professional) busy work, (personal) goal-setting laziness, and good ole (American) football, I would be amiss if I let one important tidbit of information slip by...

The little lady pictured here left this world behind seven years ago today. If you're new to the neighborhood and want to learn more about her (and I don't know why you wouldn't), check out the entries located under grandma in my mood section on the left side of this page. She was quite the inspiration, I can promise you that.

She's the reason I accepted Christ.
The reason my daughter is quite the seamstress.
The reason I know that, as a matter of fact, you can freeze gallons of milk.

And she is missed every day.