My Obsession

(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)

Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.

I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.

When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.



Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.

My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.

Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)

But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.

Out On The Boat

During our trip to Phoenix, Michael and I went out on my sister's boat. They live in a Lake Community. Seeing as how Phoenix is actually part of the desert, living on a lake seems the only option for surviving the Arizona heat in the summer. In the winter it is gorgeous! We had a lovely cruise around the lake looking at equisite and expensive homes. Here are some photos to give you an idea of what I am talking about. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so had to take these with my phone, so the quality is poor.

Grandmother

I post on several message boards. On one of them, all the rage are these fancy "grandmother" signatures. I don't have a single really decent photo of Ethan from recently. (Mostly, because I can't get him to stay still long enough for them not to blur.) But I tried playing around with one from his first winter. I forgot how adorable he was as a baby.



After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.

Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.

Go Broncos

Go Broncos!

If you are a Denver Bronco fan, there isn't much more explanation needed. Today is a big day. If they win against the Steelers we will be in the Super Bowl. When they get this far, though, everyone becomes a fan-even if they are not football fans.

I've always liked football, but coming from Arizona (back when they didn't have a team) I didn't understand what Bronco fever was. It didn't take long to become a Denver Bronco fan. I have home video of my 3 oldest children decked out in Bronco clothing. My son is singing, "La, la, la, love the Broncos, we are the 3 Amigos..." (Okay, probably nobody will get that one unless they were around for the SuperBowl something like 17 years ago.) My 5 year old at the time reads a story, complete with hand-drawn pictures, of the Broncos going to the SuperBowl.

I take advantage of every occasion to have fun, create a festive atmosphere. One tradition relates to the Broncos. Anytime they get this far in the Play-Off games, out comes the Blue and Orange nail color. I've been waiting all week for my nail decals to arrive that I bought off of ebay. So this afternoon, I got busy. (I still have 3 more sets of nails to paint before the game starts. I don't mind doing them at the last minute, I just hope the Broncos win so we can wear them until the SuperBowl. We are fickle fans. If they lose, there will be some quick removal of our blue and orange.

Sad

I want to cry. I have been cooking and creating recipes for a number of years. I've been storing these in an email file. This year I decided to create a cookbook, that way, when each of my kids moves out I can give them a copy of some of their favorite foods, meals, and dishes. I also have a collection of recipes handed down from my mom and mother-in-law.

So why do I want to cry? I finally have my computer back to normal function. The bad news...I lost everything in my email account. Yes, dumb, I know. I had some picture files there and music too. Those losses I will live with. (And hopefully , I can somehow get all my email addresses and internet favorites back little-by-little.) Little things like the daily blogs I liked to visit. (I did find the few who have commented on mine-thank-you!)

I am just not sure what I'm going to do this next week when I am planning meals. Or when Michael or one of the kids request a favorite meal that was recently created. I must be off to bed before I let it get to me.

End of the Spear

What an emotional movie this was! Thankfully, it ended on a very positive/laughable note. I need that at the end of a movie that has caused me to cry. (I don't cry very easily.)

It wasn't at all what I expected. Truthfully, I didn't go with any great expectations-except that I was a little miffed when I went. I had purchased 5 tickets at $8 each. We rarely go to the movies. Once a year, usually around the holidays, we try to go as a family (all 8 of us.) But it was still a big deal to purchase 5 tickets.

My youngest 2 have a lot of homework at night, so a week ago Thursday, the worked diligently to have it all finished by dinner. (Even Sarabeth, who works stage crew until 5, and didn't get home until 5:30 tried to work ahead so she could attend the movie.) El had to work that night, which I didn't know. My girls invited friends to go, but nobody else was allowed to go to a movie on a school night. Then Michael bailed on me. He was too tired to go out. Ugh! So the three of us jumped in the car and off we went.

The theater parking lot was strangely quiet. I didn't think we were very early. Once inside I pulled out our tickets. I couldn't believe it. We were there a week early. The movie wasn't until the following week. I started laughing and told the girls. I felt a little guilty for giving my husband such a hard time and was ever so thankful I hadn't convinced him to come.

The girls said they'd worked so hard to be able to go, they didn't want to go home. So we went to the mall, visited with El, and laughed a lot about getting the wrong date.

Last Thursday we were having our first big snow. The driving was treacherous, and I was tempted to just not go to the movie-in spite of the $40 I'd spent. Once again the girls were diligent, so we went. And once again, it was only the 3 of us. But this time, I wasn't angry.

The movie was excellent. It was more about the tribes people than the missionaries. It is rated PG13 for violence. The message was simple and poignant. The men were killed because the people they went to help didn't understand why they were there. But ultimately, it was their sacrifice that brought true freedom and change for these people. The movie did not preach. This was not a movie like one of Billy Graham's that the Gospel is preached and lives are changed. But the simple message of the gospel was. I laughed when my daughter asked, "why didn't dad go? They didn't even say God or Jesus once in the movie." She thought he would have enjoyed it as much as we did. Maybe when it comes out in video.

5 Weird Things About Me

I was tagged by Paula at Full Of Life This has been a difficult one for me to resond to. Do I really want to reveal weird things about myself? What will others think, that I'm weird? Oh well, here goes:

Five weird habits of yourself:

“The first player of this game starts with the topic ‘five weird habits of yourself,’ and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says ‘You are tagged’ (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.”


1. I have always wanted a housefull of children. I still think we need about a dozen to feel full.

2. I sometimes get hung up on meaningless things. Once I wondered if I put my deodorant on the same way every day. Was it always the left underarm first? So just for fun, every day that week I switched off. I'd leave the container facing the direction of which I left off on. (You see, I obviously have too much time...not enough kids yet.)

3. I shower, fix my hair, and wear makeup to work out. I can't imagine not doing this ever.

4. I don't sit in the same spot at church every week. When taking classes with open seating, I like to sit in a different seat every time. It drives others crazy. They walk in and look at you as if to say, "what are you doing in my seat? Get out!"
But I like variety.

5. I bought a "puppy love" stuffed dog from the post office one day. I thought it would make a nice gift for one of the kids sometime when he or she was having an off day. (Or a fun locker suprise.) But then I kept him for myself as my driving companion. He sits up front with me and goes everywhere with me. I've even been known to stuff him in my purse and take him shopping with me. (Must be a leftover memory/feeling from when I was growing up. I kept a water balloon with a face drawn on it for nearly a year-as sort of a pet/friend.)

LOL, one of these days I will post about my hair obsession, but I'm not going to include it here.

So now that you all know how weird I really am, I'm going to go out on a limb here and tag Jenni , Tina Moriah , Heidi , and Shel(. So ladies, when you have a day and can't think of anything to blog, please share your weird habits so I don't feel alone in the weird category.

End Of The Spear

Am going to see "End Of The Spear" tonight. Hope it is good. It is based on the true story "Jim Elliot," a missionary and "the rest of the story." I will update and let you all know what I think.

What I'm Currently Reading

At the moment I'm reading a book entitled, "Experiencing Spiritual Breakthroughs" by Bruce Wilkinson. I bought it some time ago, but am just getting around to reading it. I find a lot of spiritual books tend to be written more for women, as I think in general they are the ones most likely to read them. But I have found this one seems to relate more to men. So far, it seems to be one of those life-transforming books. I've decided to give you a taste, by copying a bit from the first chapter:

“Guys,” I said, as I squinted up into the sun, “what were we thinking?”
Above us loomed a hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock. Our objective was simple-get the three of us from down here to up there. A rope snaked down the cliff face to coil menacingly at our feet.

It didn’t help that several teammates had already succeeded at this training phase and were now throwing down encouragements from on high. Or that my partner Al was busy breaking our crisis into bite sizes.

“One hundred and fifty feet is about fifteen stories, I figure,” he said. “Maybe six seconds of free-fall time. Hit the ground right here with about as much forces as, oh, maybe…”

“Al,” I broke in, “why don’t you hand the rope to Jeff.” Fortunately for my quaking knees, Jeff had been tagged to go up next.

I helped him get clipped into the safety harness. The whole point of this trial-by-rock was to face down our fears. By learning to trust not only our equipment but also the other men on our team, we would break through to a higher level of personal confidence and team spirit.

“The man on the top is working with you every step of the way,” our climbing coach had said. “The gear is top-rated. You’ll do fine, especially if you don’t look down.”

When Jeff was securely in his harness, he yelled up, “I’m ready! Who’s holding my line? My life is in your hands!”

“Vince!” Came the reply from far above.

Suddenly Jeff froze, then stepped back and unclipped his harness. Clearly, he wasn’t going up. He started waving his hands and shaking his head to the team above. “I’m not taking one step up this rock with that guy holding my rope!” He shouted. “Get me somebody else!”

In the shocked silence that followed, a feeling even more sickening than the fear of heights hit my stomach. It was imagining the utter embarrassment of Vince, the man on top, rejected as an untrustworthy climbing partner. It was the shattering awareness that all the camaraderie we’d been building piece by piece for days was about to fall apart.

The three of us looked up. The crew above peered down. And none of us knew what to do next.

Until Al stepped up. I heard a click. Al was buckling himself into the dangling harness. In a moment he was leaning into the rope.

“Vince!” he yelled.
“Yeah?”
“You ready?”
“I’m ready!” came back the reply.
“Here I come!” yelled Al. And he started up the face of the wall.

When Al was only about, oh, maybe one second of free-fall time up that cliff; I had my second breakthrough moment. My knees were still jelly, but at least I was breathing again. “You’re going to be okay, said that little voice. You’re going to climb that cliff just fine…all the way to the top.

And by the end of the day, that’s exactly what I had done.

The Other Surprise

The night before Christopher went back to college, we were both sitting in front of the computer. (He was at his dad's, I was at mine-in the same room.) He said,

"Ma, I told you and dad you could borrow my car while you were in town. Why did dad rent one?"

Michael's email was open and Christopher noticed a Hertz email. Before I could answer, he let out a yelp.

"What the???? A Ford Mustang convertible???? Oh my gosh! I can't believe this!"

Now I was curious. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but my mind raced. Granted I have secretly always wanted to drive a convertible, but it is one of those things I have never said outloud to him. Plus, once you pass the 4-5 kid mark, those thoughts are covered over with "the bigger, the better" ideas.

The other thought that came to me was I could not remember a time that Michael tried to surprise me in any fashion even close to this. Anyone who knows him, number one would say he is NEVER frivolous with money, and secondly is so very practical (not to mention very, um, cheap? Ok, frugal.) This was so out-of-character for him. But lately I never know what to expect. It has been an exciting time in our lives.

Christopher made me promise not to say anything and to act surprised. But the rest of the night, whenever he catch my eyes, he'd go into this routine. He'd hold his hands out on an imaginary steering wheel, toss his head as if his hair was blowing in the wind while driving with the top down. We'd laugh and laugh. I think everyone thought we were nuts.

Thankfully, Michael mentioned it the day before we left. I wouldn't have to put on an act of surprise. But I felt like a little kid in a candy store. At unexpected times, I'd break out in a big grin or laugh. After being married 22 years, were we learning to have fun again?

Here is the one time Michael drove the car all weekend-when we left the airport.



The rest of the time I was the driver. The weather was gorgeous. I think I only left the top up once. I didn't care what I looked like once I got to my destination. I would just mention the car, and they'd understand. We'd left the kids at home and we were out acting like we didn't have a care in the world. We all need a weekend like this.

The Christmas Gift

During the Christmas break our house was full again. (Well, maybe full is not a good term to use. I would never want to give the impression that others were not welcome because we could not fit anymore into our home.) Christopher was home from college for nearly 3 weeks, Christina and Ethan were here, and the girls were home from school. It is wonderful to not have a schedule and to just sit and visit. Michael remarked how great it was to have everyone here. That is when the idea came for the Christmas gift. I told him I am sure his parents felt the same way every time he came into town to visit.

He knew we'd found the perfect gift. Very quickly, he got on the internet and made plans for he and I to fly there for a surprise visit. On Christmas he called them and told them their gift would be late, that it would arrive sometime in January. On Friday the 13th, we knocked at their door. The gift had arrived.

I have to admit, the gift felt a bit selfish. Afterall, Michael and I not only had a mini-vacation, but the added blessing of seeing his parents/family, and mine as well. (I like to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving.) To me, there is no greater joy than sharing our lives and spending time with family and others.

I've mentioned the "Memory Jar" in my "Surprises" post. We saw it in person. It it a beautiful Tea Jar that sits on their coffee table. (The Tea Jar is from the memory everyone has of my Father-in-law making sun tea nearly every day in the hot Arizona summers. It usually sat on the diving board by the pool, which had to be moved when the kids wanted to swim. Dad made sure we never ran out of ice cold, refreshing tea. Before the jar in the 'fridge was empty, there'd be another one brewing in the hot sun.) The Memory Jar is stuffed with folded pieces of paper, filled with a lifetime of memories. I realized when we were there, that Mom and Dad are hoping the jar never runs empty. It shouldn't. As time goes on, when memories come to mind or new ones are made, we will compose them on little folded pieces of paper. Just as dad never let the tea run out, we will not let the memories run out.


Michael with his mom and dad





This is my newest little niece. She is 6 weeks old.

Oh Well

I may not be around for a few days. My computer is still completely hijacked. I miss my online friends. I can occasionally read message boards and can type offline and sometimes upload here. But for most everything else it has become nearly impossible. I am typing away and have to stop to shut-down the 10 or so pop-up boxes that have intruded into my space. This is so much worse than junk mail. Junk mail I can toss in the trash in one fell sweep without having to pay much attention, but this is truly aggravating, intrusive, and steals way too much of my time. And realistically, who in their right mind who go to a link on a pop-up advertising? Why would I give business to a company who would allow their advertising to come in through a virus/hacking on one's computer? Sheesh!

On a positive, Michael will hopefully get this fixed sometime next week. (Says it will take the better part of a day.) By then, my in-laws will hopefully have received their Christmas package and I can at least share some happy news on that front.

Early Morning

Twice this week instead of riding the bus, one kid has been running late and I've had to make the 45 minute roundtrip drive to school. Honestly, I don't mind the drive, and don't mind too much that it is at 7 instead of 6:40a.m. But the price of gas for my gas-guzzling SUV is expensive. I already have to make this drive every evening at 5 to pick up a child who stays late for extra-curricular activities.

Oh well, the view can be pretty spectacular. This pic didn't turn out so well as I took it while pulling out of the school parking lot, but it gives you an idea.

Surprises

Have you ever sat on a surprise, waiting...anticipation...excitement...the feeling that you are about to burst, or at least tell the secret? That is where I'm at, so I'm going to share about the secret, but not exactly.

For Christmas, we purchased sort of an unusual Christmas gift for my inlaws. It was an online order, and they haven't received it as of yet. It should arrive sometime this week. They know their gift is coming, and I sure hope the anticipation won't leave them disappointed. Every day I wonder, think about the coming gift and hope the surprise of it will be worth the wait. I am dying to tell all of you what that gift is, but it will have to wait until the intended recipients actually get it-just in case they might read this entry. But I can hardly stand the suspense.

Oh, and you want to hear about another really cool gift? My sister-in-law thought of this. She asked each of the grandkids to write out 10 memories of their grandparents. Each of the inlaw children (that's me) to write out 10 memories, and then each of the children to write out 30-40 memories. (Obviously, they will have more memories than anyone else.) All of these were then placed in a jar so that every day one memory could be read for the entire year. It started January 1st. My dear father-in-law has been typing them out in an email every day to share with the rest of us. It has been lots of fun.

And one of these days very soon, we'll get an email or a phone call that mentions the Christmas present. Then I can share the secret with all of you!

Normal

Let's take a poll, seriously, how many of us waste huge amounts of time because of this computer box sitting in front of us??? Mine, of late, is much worse. I still don't have the problems fixed yet. Having your computer hijacked by a virus is like being sick. You find yourself irritated because you can't do things at normal speed. You waste your precious time trying to fix whatever is ailing you, when all you really want to do is "be normal."

Ahhh...normalcy. Should that word even be in our vocabulary? Too often we place the normal category on life being predictable, going along as we have planned. What foolishness is this? Life is never the same. Life=change. From the moment we are born life is changing, so why are we thrown for a loop when the unexpected happens? What we should be doing is expecting the unexpected, plan on life not going as planned. If we happen to be in a red southbound car and all of the sudden we find ourselves in a silver rocket headed for the moon we need to learn to embrace the new journey. Because if not, about the time you have quit complaining and wishing to be back in the red, southbound car, you'll find yourself plummeting from the sky ready to crash land. Then you are wishing you would have enjoyed the blast off and the trip upward. But you missed it because you were so busy being irritated.

Okay, enough about my computer woes. I've got to deal with it and somehow move on. I need to enjoy the life OUTSIDE of my computer life and remember the joys of a handwritten journal among other things.

Signing off now.....

Simple Girl

For a long time, I've thought of myself as a simple girl. I've never been a flashy, glitzy person. When I married, 22 short years ago, I wed with a simple gold wedding band. Seemed very appropriate. Sometime when I was pregnant with my 5th child, it disappeared. I replaced it with something very inexpensive, just so I "looked" married again. (I suppose having 5 kids in tow was an indication that I was possibly married, lol.)

After our 15th anniversary, I asked Michael for a new wedding ring for my birthday. That was all I wanted. Together we picked out a beautiful anniversary band with 7 diamonds around it. I tried on a few "big" rings, but having always worn a band, I didn't think I could get used to what felt like a big, clunky ring.

I can't remember whose idea it was now, but a few years ago on Mother's Day, Michael and I picked out a Mother's ring. It had a birthstone for each of my children. (I decided it is nice having one in April-diamond, and July-ruby.) Those were my favorite stones, and after a short period I took the ring back and had the other stones replaced with diamonds. So a ruby for my son, and 4 diamonds for each of the girls. It took a bit getting used to a ring with stones protruding out the top. But it is precious to me and somehow I became accustomed to it.

Here we are, at 22 years and Michael wanted to upgrade my wedding ring again. (Who would have guessed?) Before Christmas we went together and picked out another anniversary band with bigger, more sparkling and more diamonds. Again I tried on several bulky rings but wasn't sure. So I went with the familiar: an easy-to-wear band. I think I was disappointed, though, when nobody noticed.

Back to the jewelry store we went. I found a ring for the same price as the band and exchanged them. Arriving home, my daughter noticed right away. Deep down, I think I was thrilled.

Have I been a simple girl out of necessity all these years? Is there really a flashy, glitzy "look-at-me" person trying to break forth? Honestly? I don't think so. But I am at a place in my life where I can enjoy impractical things. I can paint my nails and wear high-heeled boots. And every time I glimpse these sparkles from my hand, I think of the man who loves me and all we've been through. I catch myself caught up in the way this ring glistens. And I imagine this is the way life is supposed to be. As we get older, rather than being haggard and worn, our lives should glisten and gleam from the inside out revealing God's handiwork.

Pop-up Ads

One of my children has done it again. I have a bug in my system and now Michael is going to have to remove everything and reinstall. This happened once before and he was pretty convinced it came from AIM. I don't use AIM a lot, mostly to chat with family members (including my kids.)

After the first time this happened, I didn't download AIM. I only used Express from their website. After nearly a year, one of my kids (who lives out of state) convinced me that I really should just download. So I did. It works fine when "I" use it, but I'm not the only one who uses my computer. All family members at one time or another have gotten this bug (or one like it.) All but Michael. Guess who is the only one who doesn't use AIM ever???

Then one of my children admitted to chatting on AIM with a school friend when the friend sent a message/link with pics. She said when she clicked on it, the computer went ballistic. It in turn, also sent the same message to everyone on her buddy list. I thought I had been pretty clear about not opening links in emails or AIM, but their interpretation was that it was ok if it was from someone they knew.

What really infuriates me is any business that would advertise and use a service that would infiltrate a computer unknowingly in this manner. Oh, and the other thing it does is highlight words throughout both email or any web page you go to. For example, I was reading a blog yesterday and the person had a couple of words highlighted to links she had put on there. But then I noticed there were some highlighted and I could tell they were part of this virus/advertising scam. Most of the pop-ups are for ridiculous things, but occasionally I've noticed them from companies that I thought would be more reputable. Apparently not.

Well, this rambling was merely a warning to those who use AIM. Also to say, that until this is fixed, not sure how much I will post. It takes at least twice as long to do anything on here now. Michael said he'd probably get to this problem within the week.

Down in the Laundry Room

Roller coasters

I have to admit it, I love roller coasters. It is interesting to watch others ride too. Some scream in terror, others shriek with delight. To mask their fear, some will laugh themselves silly through the entire ride. Some feign boredom, wearing a tough face, while some just can't get enough thrill and continually search for bigger, better, scarier. I am amused.

Of course there are many who won't go near a roller coaster. My grandmother was not one of those. She lived just a few miles from both Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm and about an hour away from Six Flags Magic Mountain. I loved visiting her as a child, as it almost always meant visiting one of the afore mentioned. Grandma never passed on an opportunity to ride a rollercoaster.

As we'd approach the front of a line at an amusement park, I'd watch Grandma looking ever so frail. I'd read the warnings, regarding those with heart problems and the like to NOT ride. Grandma usually met at least 2 of the criteria for not riding.

"Grandma, are you sure you ought to go on this one?" I'd ask. Her answer was always the same.

"You know, if my heart gives out, at least I was having fun when it did." Of course this answer did nothing to quench my fear that she might not get off of it alive. I suppose if I hadn't wanted to ride so much, I might have tried harder to convince her not to get on, but I didn't want to miss out either.

What is the appeal of these crazy contraptions? Who came up with the insane idea to go as fast as humanly possible, while connected in some way to a metal cart, clacking along a track that throws you contortionately sideways, upside down or backwards? I think I know the answer. No, not who thought these things up, but why they appeal to some of us.

Ponder this a moment. Once you are strapped tightly into a car, the car begins to move, what goes through your mind? Most likely you don't think too far into the future. You are anticipating what might happen next. Your heart begins to beat a bit faster. A rush of excitement comes swooshing up. But you are not thinking about what you will be doing next week, what you are going to make for dinner that night or anything else that might require deep thinking or planning. You might, for just a second, wish you hadn't eaten a chili dog for lunch 15 minutes earlier because you know it won't taste as good coming up as it did going down. Seriously, all you can do is be in that moment of time. There are no worries or regrets. No hurt feelings from the past. You cannot possibly have any depth to your thoughts. (I keep correcting myself. Okay, you might think that your entire life flashing before your eyes is deep thinking, but it doesn't really count.)

There is no thought about what lies before you. On a somewhat smooth area, you might take a second to peer ahead in anticipation if something bigger is coming next, or glance to the side looking for a plummeting drop. But you won't be taking in the sites. No details to distract you, you are hanging on for the ride at a ridiculously fast pace, knowing it will all be over shortly. You are living for the moment, possibly barely hanging on-begging for it to end quickly. This short-lived, exhillarating, fast-moving ride brings laughter, tears, excitement, thrills...a whole bundle of emotions without ever having to really think about anything.

It would be interesting to take a poll to find out if those who love roller coasters also tend to live their lives in this same fast pace. Never stopping to plan or evaluate whether what is going on is good or bad, never wanting to have to look too far into the future as to what might lie ahead that they would need to prepare for. Instead the fast pace is necessary to keep from having to think or experience life. Lives filled with busyness, in order to avoid ever feeling pain, hurt, or even love. This fast pace is like a drug. It is addicting. As soon as you are off the roller coaster, you run off to find the next one, bigger, better, and more thrilling than the last. And for a few brief moments, you won't have to deal with the real things of life. Many keep this dizzying pace up all their lives. Because of times of intense emotion and pleasure they believe they are living life to the fullest, when in actuality, they are avoiding life.

For me, an occasional escape on that coaster once every few years suits me just fine. I love the thrill, but I have to stop and catch my breath. I have to take time to breathe in the odors around me, so that I can detect dangerous smoke or enjoy a fragrant blossom.

Happy Anniversary!

Today, December 29th, Michael and I are celebrating out 22nd anniversary. Sometimes our relationship seems so fresh, it is as if we are still honeymooning. At the same time, I can't remember life without him. I feel like we've finally reached the point in our relationship, that it only gets better with each day. And yes, there are still things I am learning about him, and new things to love about him. So in honor of this special occasion, here are 22 things I appreciate about Michael:

1. His smile, whether he is smiling at one of the kids, grandson, or me. He has a smile that melts my heart.

2. His sense of humor. It pops up unexpectedly at times, and makes me laugh silly. Usually when I am way too serious.

3. His way with finances. How else can you explain how we've managed all these years? When he didn't have a "job" for 2 years, we did great.

4. Along with finances, he is hard-working and creative.

5. Michael is not afraid to take risks.

6. He challenges me. Sometimes it doesn't seem so endearing at the moment, but I am a better person for it. The first few years of marriage I was not thankful for this quality, but I am now. And yes, he still finds ways to get me to step out of my comfort zone.

7. I love the way he tells me that I'm the best thing that ever happened to him.

8. I love his sense of adventure. (I can't wait to see where it takes us when the kids are grown.)

9. He has learned to validate my feelings and listen, not just try to fix everything for me.

10. I love to see the pride in his eyes when he takes Ethan riding on the lawn mower.

11. I love that he is always up for trying new dishes and never criticizes my cooking. He'll try anything once, and if something is really distateful, he will comment, "It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you didn't want to make this one again."

12. Even though he says anything I cook is better than going out to eat, he still takes me out or orders out so I get a break from cooking.

13. He will go get my car washed and vacuumed, just because he loves me.

14. He never leaves his dirty clothes around. He always picks up after himself.

15. When I need an errand run, or chore done, he does it immediately. I never have to ask twice.

16. He's not afraid to admit he was wrong.

17. He is courageous and won't hesitate to stop and ask for directions or for help.

18. He takes care of all of the things I dislike doing, like making phone calls, fixing things, etc.

20. I can't believe he tolerates the way I toss and turn in bed to get comfortable, but never once has he complained.

21. I'm so thankful that he is neat and tidy, but doesn't give me a hard time for not being so organized.

22. I so appreciate that he cares so deeply for me and our children and grandson. His love shines through in all he does. He is my hero.

Paper Anyone?

I'm curious how long I am going to have to use wadded up, shredded toilet paper out of a basket beside the toilet. And what is it about toilet paper that makes a child grab one end of it and run? This particular child, also likes to mummy wrap himself after he has pulled out a sufficient amount. That usually mean it starts at the roll on the wall, runs out the bathroom door, down the hall, into the kitchen with just enough room to twirl. Maybe I need tissue that is not so strong.

I know, many would just throw away these ridiculous amounts of paper wads. But, with 5 females in the house, why would I let perfectly good paper go to waste? The rolls of paper disappear fast enough. It seems I barely get a new roll on and it is time to replace it. So why does this mound in the basket seem to last forever?

I have my suspicions. I think I may be the only one who uses it. I think the other members of this household can't stand the thought of using toilet paper that has been dragged down the hallway or wrapped around a little person's body. I guess when you're a mom, all ideas of sanitary (or is it sanity) go out the window.

UNEXPECTED

Two days ago, I ran into Barnes & Noble for a last minute gift. I was sending out a Christmas package to my parents and it needed to go out that day in order to make it in time for Christmas. But I can never go into the bookstore without stopping in the children's section, or browsing through the clearance books.

I picked up a copy of Billy Crystal's "I Already Know I Love You." I read a page or two, then flipped a few more pages. Without warning, my eyes began to fill with tears. I blinked to hold them back and felt a stinging sensation. The author described the anticipation of waiting for his grandbaby, how he was looking forward to playing peek-a-boo, taking him to his first ballgame. I turned to the last page.

"I'm going to be your grandpa, and I can hardly wait."



I was not prepared for the intense emotion that welled up from within. I turned the book over. The sticker read $16.95. I can't pay that much for a book right now. But I tucked it under my arm and walked to the counter to pay.

I busied myself with watching the people waiting in line. I chuckled to myself when I saw that there was an employee at the front of the line holding a basket. She was offering chocolate candy for all who'd been standing, waiting to pay for their books. (They apparently agree with me, that chocolate should be used as a stress reliever.) As I passed, I accepted her bit of chocolate.

The day was a bit chilly, so I hurried to the car. All the way I was mentally trying to figure out what else I needed to do after going to the post office. I was a bit undone that I always and consistently leave things to the last minute. But while I was pulling out of the parking lot, tears unexpectedly began blurring my vision. I swiped at my eyes with my leather glove. Not very absorbent.

What is wrong with me? I wondered. I do not cry easily. I've never been an overly emotional person. But here I was, still crying on the way home after picking up a children's book. I normally analyze things like this. I like to know what exactly triggers such a strong emotion. When I am very busy, or under stress, I can't say that I am always in tune with feelings. I like to stuff them until a time arises that I can figure out what and why I am feeling. Then I can deal with it and move on. Right then, I didn't have time.

I pulled off my gloves, grabbed a tissue, and dried my eyes again. I tried to focus on all of the things I needed to do, but I couldn't distract myself. And what was I going to do with this book anyway? I was going to give it to my husband to give to our grandson for Christmas. The image of the two of them on Michael's riding lawn mower settled into my thoughts. I cried harder.



When our daughter announced her pregnancy, it wasn't at the best of times. She had made a stand of purity and chosen not to even date through high school. Here she was, at 20, unmarried, telling us the news.

She had friends who told her it wouldn't be convenient to have a child and that she didn't have to. But like I, she values life. We were going to be grandparents.

When I arrived home, I picked up my bag of books and went inside. I tried to put the book aside, while I packed up the box I needed to ship. But I couldn't operate with tears under the surface, still stinging my eyes. So I got the book to present to Michael. I went to him, but found I couldn't speak. I just stood there, holding this book. I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was tears. I waited. This was too hard. I finally blurted out, "I got this book for you to give to Ethan for Christmas. I know it was dumb, but I did." I then retreated to my room to finish the package.

Why am I such a wreck? Because I remember when my daughter was pregnant. I remembered that although we hadn't anticpated being grandparents yet, I often imagined spending time with this new little one. I imagined things like baking cookies together, laughing. I bought lots of books to read to him. I thought of the times I'd answer his questions about why, and tell him about God who created him. But I never imagined that Ethan might not understand these things, nor that there would be so many unknowns. I didn't think that at age 3 I'd still be waiting to hear him say, "gramma."

Michael came in the room. He wrapped his arms around me and I cried into his shoulder. I told him I didn't know what I was thinking when I picked up the book and that I would take it back to the store. He said no. We sat in silence. Once again I dried my tears. "Do you think I should just give it to him, or what?" He asked. "Aren't you afraid he will ruin the book?" I told him it would be ok. He could sit and read the book to Ethan. It didn't matter if Ethan didn't understand a word of it. The words were still true. We DID wait with much anticipation for his arrival. We did and still do look forward to spending time with him, teaching him new things, sharing and experiencing moments together. It is just different than what we'd imagined.

All About Nothing

A bit of time has passed since I've written a thing. The problem? Well, the more days that go by, the more difficult it is to write. I figure people are out there waiting for something terribly insightful, motivating, thoughtful, inspiring...and the more time that passes, the more pressure I feel to perform. The complete irony of the situation? I doubt anyone reads my blog at all, lol. So why do I feel any kind of pressure? Afterall, this is my own little world. I can say or write just about anything that comes to mind. Even if it is all about nothing.

Cold

The weather was bitter
And frightfully cold.
I wanted to stay
In my warm, snug abode.

The bus stop awaiting
We did have to run,
But wearing a coat
just isn't much fun.

"In my locker
it just doesn't fit,
I don't care if I'm cold
not one little bit.

If I take a coat
I'll be late for my classes,
It will slow me down
Like thick, brown molasses."

So off we went
no jackets at all
It's not like it's winter,
We're still into Fall.

Pet Peeve

I sometimes wonder what other parents are thinking, or if they think about anyone but themselves.

The weather has turned chilly. Walking in to church yesterday, I couldn't help but notice the way others were dressed. I'm never surprised to see teenagers without jackets. But what amazes me is how many little children I see without them. One couple came out with their 3 little ones. Their oldest looked to be about 5. He was walking ahead of his parents, hurrying to their car. He had on short sleeves and pants. The two younger boys were dressed about the same but were probably 3 and 1, and were being carried by the parents. Both parents had on nice, long-sleeve clothing, and both were wearing winter jackets.

It wouldn't be so bad if they were just making a quick run to their car-but we go to a large church. You have to cross the street just to get to the parking lot. Then you often have quite a long walk to get out of the wind and cold to arrive at your nice warm car.

Or what about the parents who are warmly dressed, wearing coats, who walk outside with their baby girl. She is dressed adorably in a short-sleeve frilly dress, no shoes, socks or booties, no jacket, not even a blanket. Is it because they are warm, they figure their baby is too? And what about a hat for that bald head to keep out some of that bitter, cold wind?

I recognize that some parents are out to teach their children to make their own choices. I applaud them for this. That is an important thing for them to learn. I have tried to teach my children how to make good choices, instead of the old adage, "just do what I say." Yes, they need to be obedient, but if they never learn to make choices, life becomes very difficult when choices are thrown at them.

But at what age do you allow them to go out without a jacket when the temperature is below freezing? Will a 5 year old, who is busy playing inside his nice warm home really choose to put on a stuffy, hot jacket? What about the 3 and 1 year old? Did they have a choice? I know that nobody asked that baby if she wanted a blanket to wrap around her.

I guess it breaks my heart to see little children improperly dressed in cold weather.

I dropped 2 of my girls off at the bus stop just a few minutes ago. Before we left, I mentioned that it was going to be cold and windy today, with a high of almost 40 degrees. I expressed that if it was me, I would wear a jacket/coat. (Our home was nice and toasty, as I had turned up the heat last night.) My younger daughter obliged my thoughts by grabbing a coat. Her sister had a light jacket. She hates trying to stuff a big coat into her locker. She says it is difficult to get her books out each hour.

When we arrived at the bus stop, my younger daughter leaves her coat in the car. Her parting words were, "I don't need that." I looked up at the temperature. It was 24 degrees. C'est la vie.

EGGS

Fried
hard-boiled
poached
over-easy
deviled
scrambled
soft-boiled
pickled
sunny-side up.

Peek-a-boo eggs
egg salad
served on toast
in an omelette
turned into quiche.

Isn't the egg a wonderful food?
Where would we be without it?
There would be no meringue for pie,
Battered and Fried would be no more,
What about cookies, cakes and the like?
Life just would not be the same, without
the glorious egg.

ELECTRICITY

Many of you know that I lay stuff out the night before in order for mornings to go smoothly. I am not naturally a morning person, so much easier to take care of things the night before.

Somehow last night I forgot to set my alarm. I woke up, looked at the clock and realized I would normally be in the snooze mode. I could have laid there for 3 more minutes, but since my alarm would not be going off, I figured I'd better just get up.

I went downstairs to see if the girls were awake. It felt unusually warm. I checked the thermostat and noticed someone had turned it up-too high. I got closer so I could accurately see to turn it back down. Just as I touched the dial, everything went dark. Hmmm...I think the electricity went out.

I stumbled down the hall, skipping my usual routine of turning on SB's light. Yep! The electricity was most definately out. I roused the girls out of bed assuring them that yes, it was time to get up even though the clocks looked like they were asleep. Back upstairs I went to make lunches.

Ok, now what am I going to make for lunches? I had planned to make them hot lunches and had two thermos' sitting on the counter. So much for planning. Smugly, I thought, "well, I'll get my coffee first, then figure it out," glad that I have the timer set to brew 15 minutes before I get up. But the coffee pot was empty. What? How is this possible? Oh no! The one time I forget to put water in...the morning I don't get a second chance. And why had I thought this would be a good mornng for making eggs for breakfast? What are they going to eat now? Let's see, Hilary likes cold cereal, SB hates it. Sb comes in the room and I offer her cold cereal. Oh wait, she reminds me, she'll just have a slice of that banana bread I made. Darn! I put that in the freezer last night.

I'm proud of my girls. They managed to do their hair and put their makeup on by candlelight-a feat I would have struggled with doing. After dropping them off at the bus stop, I drive to Starbucks for a Vanilla Latte. But wait, why not get just a black coffee? It will be quicker, cheaper, and I can go home and add anything to it I want. Yes, I go for a black, Venti coffee.

When I pull into the driveway, I notice the kitchen light is on. Nice. The electricity was off for just that 1/2 hour it takes to get my kids ready and off to school. Oh well, my coffee pot is already set for tomorrow morning.

Falling Leaves

Who doesn't enjoy jumping into a giant pile of leaves?

Overwhelmed

Sitting in church yesterday, I was overwhelmed once again at God's plan of salvation. Meditating on how much was accomplished at the cross, how much he gave and provided for us, and how we can have a relationship with the Father because of this gift.

But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?

Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.

I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.

It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.

"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05

My Little Magician

My daughter El works at the mall. On Halloween, each store in the mall hands out candy to trick or treaters. Christina asked if I would dress Ethan up and take him to the mall. She had class. So I dressed up our little magician, who by-the-way, is definately some sort of magician the way he can wiggle out of his clothes and get his diaper off.



Hilary and her friend also dressed up.



Sadly, Ethan missed getting candy from his aunt. He fell asleep on the way to the mall, and that was the end of his evening.

Taking Tests

My girls go to a very academically challenging school. They are really big into tests. My youngest, Hilary, is in her second year at this school. She works so very hard to be successful. She is diligent to study for tests.

Recently Hilary has been complaining that she has a hard time seeing the board at school. Seeing as how everyone else in the family wears glasses, we figured it was about time to get her an eye exam.

The eye doctor was surprised that she was having a hard time seeing the board. He said she could get glasses, but didn't really need them. We went ahead and got them. I was still surprised, though, when she came home complaining that she still was having trouble reading the board.

I took her back to have her eyes re-checked. I took 2 of my daughters on the same day, and they took them to 2 different rooms. Somehow, I didn't end up going in with Hilary. Afterwards, she brought me her new presription for glasses. Apparently, when it was time for her to take the "eye test," she automatically wanted to do well. Her solution was to squint until she could make out the letters. Unfortunately, it did not accurately give a picture of her struggle in seeing the board at school.

Thankfully, the second "eye exam" she did not try so hard to be successful and see perfectly. She admitted her inadquacies in being able to make out what letters she could see. Imagine her amazement when she received her glasses with the new prescription. She could hardly get over how "sharp" things looked. Don't you wish all kids tried so hard on tests and exams???

FALL

As I see and hear the sights and sounds of Autumn, I remembered something I wrote a while back. After yesterday's snow and my posting, this will sound contradictory.
I have never been fond of Fall. I supposed it was from growing up in Phoenix where there aren't any seasons. But I don't think so. We have seasons in our lives, and for me change is hard sometimes. I like to be comfortable. I love the warm, carefree summers. I love the new life of Spring. I love wearing turtlenecks and sweaters in the winter snow, but I am not fond of the change that Fall brings.

As I see the leaves turning beautiful, brilliant colors
Everything looks so alive
But what is really happening is
They are dying.
The nights too cold to sustain them.
Shortened days and not enough sunlight
To maintain their green color.
So although beautiful,
Death is at their doorstep.
The bright red, gold, yellow, and orange
Are not symbols of life,
But of change.
Soon they will be nothing
Dry, dead cracklings beneath our feet.
Crushed and gone, totally lifeless.

The time has come to prune, to go deeper
To strenthen the roots to stand strong through the storms of winter.
(Coming from Arizona, this was all so new to me.)
The season of Winter is coming
Summer is over.
Where is the harvest? I must have missed it.
Where is the harvest? I can't see the harvest when I'm not in the fields.
Have I missed the harvest season
With nothing stored up for winter?
Fall is gathering time before EVERYTHING is dead.
I haven't much time left. Fall is upon me, and I didn't even see the signs.
Why plant and water if I won't prune and harvest?
Utter foolishness. And there is no harvest if you did not plant in the spring.

On Saturday, Michael and I went for an 8 mile bike ride. It was nice, but a little hot on the ride back. It's a good thing we turned back when we did, as it was uphill home and 82 degrees.

This morning we woke up to snow. That is what I love about Colorado. I love change. Variety is the spice of life, right? So Saturday we were enjoying the Indian Summer biking in the beautiful outdoors. The leaves were in an array of golden, red, yellow and other autumn colors.

Today I have a pot of soup on the stove, fresh bread baking in the oven, and the fireplace aflame. Outside the temperature is a brisk 34 degrees, with snow steadily falling. What could be better than this?

Humbled

I had 2 packages to mail. It was a quarter to 5 and I knew I had better get going. One was to my son at college, the other to my neice who is in the hospital. I wanted these out today. So off I went.

While driving through the neighborhood, I saw a firetruck returning to the station. Shortly afterwards, I noticed flashing lights behind me. Gosh, I better get to the side of the road so this officer can get by me. I quickly pulled over next to the fire station.

Imagine my surprise, as I glanced in my rearview mirror, and saw the officer had pulled up right behind me. Was I getting pulled over??? Oh my goodness! I have been driving for 27+ years and have never gotten a ticket. It's amazing how your mind races in just a few short moments. I have been telling my teenage kids about how I've never gotten a ticket, bragging I suppose. Hmmm...pride goes before a fall. The next thought was, gosh, maybe if I am nice and smile he will be merciful to me. I look in the mirror again, he isn't out of his vehicle yet.

Maybe he just happened to be in a hurry to get to the fire station. Maybe I'm not really being pulled over. How long should I wait before driving off? Oh wait, the door is opening. It's a female officer...I'm sunk! (What kind of attitude is that????)

I pull out my driver's license and unroll my window. The officer asks me if I know why I'm being pulled over. "Uhhh...no, I really don't."

"Well, you didn't make a complete stop at that stop sign back there."

Gosh, how many times have I told my kids how important it is to make complete stops at the stop signs. We have 3 of them in a row to get out of our neighborhood. I don't know how often I see cars blow right through them, hardly slowing down. I am always careful to completely stop.

"I am usually more careful, and honestly, I was in a hurry to get to the post office."

"Can I see your registration?"

I opened the glove box and grabbed the first piece of paper and handed it over.

"This is your proof of insurance, try the other one."

Fumbling again, I pull the other sheet out.

"I'll try to make this quick for you," and she began walking back to her vehicle with my license and registration.

I hang my head in shame as cars are passing. These are my neighbors. How many of them know me and are going to ask me about it later? How embarrassing to be one street away from your home and be facing the humiliation of breaking the law.

The officer hands me my paperwork and her business card. "I'll just give you a warning, but make sure you make a complete stop next time."

I drove away humbled and thankful.

Technology

Isn't technology something to watch? Last night before going to bed, I decided to check my email. I also logged onto AIM to see who was online. (For those who are not sure what aim is-is there anyone who isn't? It stands for AOL instant messenger. It allows you to chat online.) I laughed when I saw my son, who is away at college, his sister, who just moved with my grandson an hour away, and my 18 year old daughter. She was just downstairs, but I couldn't resist IM'ing them to comment that over half our family was online. If truth be told, the youngest 2 siblings would have been online also, but because they have to get up early, they were in bed. Michael, my husband was also online, but for some reason, he doesn't like "talking" via instant message.

I was pretty proud of myself for having 3 chat boxes open at one time, and being able to carry on 3 different conversations. For those that don't know, I do not multi-task well. Then my oldest invited us all to a chatroom where we proceeded to carry on our conversations together.

Wow! It was just like sitting around the dinner table, well, almost. Chatter back and forth, humor bordering on sarcasm, confusion as to what these two are talking about, inquiries as to why everyone new but me (from the younger of the 3), and just back-and-forth bantering. My oldest was sharing pics of Ethan, via her cell phone camera. He had her portable phone tucked in his pants, pretending it was his pocket cell phone. But he didn't have pockets in his pajamas.



I finally told them I really needed to go to bed, expressed how much fun it had been, but how I felt a bit bad that the whole family hadn't been there. El replies that her youngest sister is there, just a silent partner listening. Grrrr....I thought she was in bed. Oh well. I miss having my two oldest living here and the whole family together every night. But, when dinnertime rolls around tomorrow, I only have to call downstairs to 3 cell phones to tell them dinner is ready. Or maybe I will just get online and message them all at once as a means of ringing the dinner bell. The dinner bell...now that brings up an array of memories of times when communication wasn't so high tech. I'll save those for another day.

One of those mornings

Do you ever have one of those mornings where you know right away things aren't going the way you planned? Last night I nearly got in bed before realizing I hadn't laid out the lunches, nor set the coffee maker. Now if I was to get up and the coffee wasn't made, that alone could start the morning off awry. As tired as I was, I was diligent and cut up the brownies and wrapped them individually. I filled baggies with pretzels, made chicken salad, and filled the water bottles and put them in the freezer. Oh, and set the coffee maker. Whew! I was ready for the morning, especially since HH asked me to french braid her hair in the morning.

It was still dark when I walked out to the kitchen this morning. The coffee smelled wonderful, but when I looked, I saw why it was so fragrant. There was coffee everywhere. The pretzels and brownies were floating in brown, speckled liquid. The lunch boxes were soaking in a mocha color. Coffee grounds not only covered the countertop, but were on the stove. Hmmm...in my flurry to get everything together the night before, I must have forgotten to put a filter in the coffee maker. This fancy coffee maker that grinds the coffee fresh each morning, then drips it into the insulated carafe does not like it when you forget the filter. And to let you know, spews coffee and grounds out of every crack and crevice to protest.

Homecoming

Sb just left for the Homecoming dance. She looked beautiful as always. Here are some pictures:



This is HH, Sb, and El

UPDATE

Ben's mother phoned tonight. She sounded very stressed and concerned. I think because she does not want her son dating, at least not yet. Sb doesn't see this as a date, and neither do I. Afterall, neither one of them has their drivers license, so his parents will have to drive them.

I think I was able to alleviate some of the mother's stress by telling her Sb only wanted to go as friends. We talked for a bit. She asked if I had other children, had we done this before, etc. She told me she had one other son and he only went to dances his junior and senior year. There was a lot of sighing as we spoke, but by the end I think we both felt better. This will be interesting to meet the parents on Saturday.

Unchosen

Sb came home from school today with a new twist to the homecoming dance she is going to. Ben told her that when he informed his parents that he had asked her to the dance, they told him they didn't want him going. What? How can they say that after he already HAS asked?

I told her that was ok, that she could go back to her original plan and go with her girlfriends. She said he went ahead and bought her ticket and gave it to her. So what does this mean? Did he feel guilty, so bought her the ticket so she could still go, or is he going behind his parents back and going anyway? Of course Sb didn't have any answers.

Honestly, I felt like he should honor his parents request, and Sb could live with that too. It would not be the end of the world for her. Sigh. That was short-lived enthusiasm.

Chosen

"Mom, I have a story to tell you." I am used to hearing this phrase from one of my daughters. They have gotten to where they just look for something to happen during their day so they will have a story to tell. Once everyone is sitting at the table, whoever is the lucky one to have had some sort of encounter or story to tell has the attention of every member present. Apparently, they all love being center stage in this house.

All eyes were fixed on the storyteller, while forkfuls of food passed their lips. The tale began. "After stage crew, I was waiting outside for Liz. Ben comes up and starts talking. He tells me he has a question to ask. He then says, 'would you mind going to homecoming with me?' I told him I would." (Okay, not everyone has honed their story-telling skills.)

"Why didn't you tell him you WOULD mind," I joked. "It's a good thing we bought you a dress yesterday," I added.

"So is he good-looking?" Sb's younger sister asks her. That is the all-important litmus test in her mind.

"Well, he's my friend. He's in the play. He's a nerd." Sb says this, all the while with a twinkle in her eye and a slight grin as if she's trying hard not to smile.

"Well if he's a nerd, then he's good-looking, just like me." Everyone laughs. That's such a dad thing. Yeah, he's a good-looking nerd.

Sb had planned to go to homecoming with some girlfriends. She isn't much into boys, although she does notice them once-in-awhile. I thought it would be nice to have a new dress to wear, new shoes too. But I think there is also something about being chosen. Something happens inside when a young man goes out of his way to ask you if you would mind accompanying him to an event. An event that you have a new dress, new shoes, earrings and necklace to match, hair done up nice-something a bit magical about it when you've been chosen too. She's looking forward to the dance, planning everything out,even if it is only a few days away.

Rough Day

After an emotional day yesterday, a friend sent me this story. I felt I needed to post it here. Ethan is our Holland.

Welcome to Holland
Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a
disability- to try to help people who have not shared this unique experience
to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

When you're going to have a baby it's like planning a fabulous vacation
trip--to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful
plans. The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, the gondolas of Venice. You may
learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack
your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The
stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?!" you say. What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for
Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to
Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland
and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you
to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower paced that Italy, less flashy
than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your
breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills,
Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy going to and from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say. "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

The pain of that will never ever, ever go away because the loss of that
dream is a very significant loss.

But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to
Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely
things about Holland.

A Lot of Changes

The beginning of a new school year nearly always throws me in a tizzy. It was especially difficult this year. You would think being a grandma shouldn't have the same affect on you as the little ones start school.

I got my girls started in school. Boy, does getting them to the bus at 6:40a.m. seem early. It will be worse later on, though, when it is still dark. I think I make lunches half-asleep. I wonder what exactly I pack in those lunches???

Thursday through Monday I had Ethan. The first 2 days were extremely difficult, as he had a stiff neck and was not a happy camper. By Saturday, he was back to his old self. Somehow I managed to remember his medicine every morning and every night. I got him to take a nap (and yes, even with gas prices so high, I took him for a little drive to help enhance his ability to fall asleep.) And I got him in bed at nearly the same time every night. By Tuesday morning, I was starting to feel awfully attached to this little boy. But Tuesday, was his first day at "school."

At 3, Ethan started preschool for kids with special needs. He gets 3 hours a day, 4 days a week. We have been pretty excited, as he will have therapists there helping him each day. He can't help but make a lot of progress, right? His first day went great. His teacher said he was much higher functioning than they anticpated. The second day went well also.

But me? Today, I have been a basket case. I started crying for no reason. I was sad that I hadn't been able to be there for his first day. Sad I didn't get to meet his new teacher who will be so much a new part of his life right now. So this afternoon, I called to hear how his third day went. I needed to know things were still going great.


I wish that is what my daughter had been able to tell me. Unfortunately, he was not having a good day. He woke up very unhappy and destructive. She realized she forgot to give him his meds. last night. From there it went from bad to worse. And his teacher said after school, that he did not have a good day. He was pinching some of the other kids.

Hmmm...this is tough, I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it through a year of Ethan being so far away and not being able to do anything about it.

It's Over

It's over. Summer is officially ended. Tomorrow morning is the first day of a new school year. What is wrong with me? Just typing those words, I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes. I miss my kids already.

It just doesn't seem possible, but I know when the alarm goes off at 5:45a.m. tomorrow morning, it will be all too real. I didn't make a single breakfast all summer long, but tomorrow, I will dutifully make the girls breakfast. I will pack their lunches in lunch boxes (or paper sacks, depending on their temperaments.)

Wait, is it really possible that I only have 2 children still in school? (The college ones don't count.) Only 2 lunches to make? When did this happen?

I have always driven my children to school, but this afternoon there was a discussion about this. My youngest wanted to ride the bus. So HH and Sb got into an argument about me driving or riding the bus. "Why can't one of you ride the bus and one ride with me?" I offered. But for some reason, this wasn't quite good enough. In the end, this suggestion was accepted. So, I will drop HH off at the bus stop at 6:45a.m., the proceed on to her school to drop off SB. Now that I think about it, it does seem a bit funny.

Well, now I must go lay out the fixings for lunch. Chips in a baggie, fruit, veggies or salad in containers in the 'fridge. And what is a lunch without a dessert? I bought each a brand new water bottle and have already half-filled them with water and put them in the freezer. If I get the chicken salad made, I will only have to assemble the sandwiches in the morning and then place everything in the boxes or bags and off they will go. I'm going to miss them.

Getting in Shape

I was so excited to finally be able to work out in a real gym. I imagined a new svelte me in cute little work-out clothes looking like a million bucks. Okay, I would have been happy just looking better, feeling better, wearing smaller clothes.

I began this adventure nearly 18 months ago. I can honestly say I do enjoy working out. I have gained muscle. I am more flexible. I am stronger. I feel better. Have I lost any weight? Absolutely not. If anything I have gained. So I go to the gym, work up a sweat, and still have not found that svelte person living inside of me. What gives?

When I started, I knew there was more for me to gain than physical muscle. I asked the Lord to teach me spiritual truths. Honestly, though, I have focused mainly on the physical aspect of it.

So why am I not losing weight after working out so much? If more muscle is being produced and I am expending more energy, I should lose, shouldn't I? I figured there must be something more I need to learn. I knew it was more about a spiritual lesson than a physical. But hey, if I learn it, it should help in the natural realm too. I think I'm ready.

The simple truth is, it is not enough (at least not for me) to just work out. I can't just add strenuous exercise, contrary to the opinion of some, and expect to lose weight. Maybe I'm too old, maybe I'm eating more. (Doubt that.) In any case, it doesn't matter. What matters is I have to change my eating habits. I'm not sure yet, but I believe I can do this one of many ways. (I'll let you know if I'm wrong on this one once I figure it out.) I can cut back on my portion sizes, cut back on carbs, cut fat,cut out desserts...basically, something needs to be carved out of what is now considered my regular dietary intake. The result will be, a thinner me. A fitter me will emerge.

So what is the lesson to be learned? I've been at this Christian walk a long time. When I began this walk 22+ years ago, my life was a mess. I was totally out-of-shape spiritually. As I began to exercise my faith, I began to grow. The more I prayed and spent time with God, the more I wanted to pray. I couldn't get enough time alone with Him. I would read my bible every chance I could. I attended church every time the doors were open and shared my faith with anyone who would listen. Along with spiritual exercise, I found that I carried a lot of extra baggage in my life that needed to be gotten rid of. Little-by-little, the Lord began to reveal things that I needed to eliminate. Sometimes they were annoying habits. Others were old coping skills that I no longer needed if I was really going to depend on God. I remember having a hard time saying no to salespeople. I'd end up buying something I didn't need. Afterwards I'd be very angry at myself. After one particularly frustrating purchase, I finally asked the Lord why I gave in to this temptation so often.

He showed me that my real desire was to feel worthy. If someone spent the time to talk to me, show me a product, make the effort to "sell" me, then I owed it to him to buy. I felt the time of others was more valuable than mine so if they spent their time on me, the least I could do was pay them for it. I know this must sound insane, but I truly had so little self-worth, that is what I believed. And what an amazing God to reveal this and then begin to speak to me about how much He values me. He walked me through the steps of not giving in to pressure by giving me worth. In doing so, I was able to throw off another weight that I was carrying around.

The more weights I threw off, the freer I became. Talk about spiritual fitness! I was doing spiritual sprints, spiritual marathons. You name it, I was more than ready to do the work-outs in order to train for these marathons. I was more than ready to give up excess baggage to run this race faster.

So how does this all fit in now? Sometimes the truth hurts. I needed an honest evalution of my spiritual life. I have found, no matter how long you've been in this Christian walk, there will always be more training needed. There are new areas to exercise our faith. And as much as we've already cut out of our lives or changed, there will always be weights we either haven't seen before or new ones we've picked up along the way or even old ones we've gone back to that need to be discarded. We can never think we've arrived, or that all we need to do is exercise our faith and that is enough.

I have to start changing my eating habits. As I do, I need to be open to other changes in my life that I have neglected to see. Those things the Lord knows are weights even if I think they are benefits. Dessert might be a dainty morsel but bring about extraordinary weight. I have to ask myself is it worth it? It is time to lose, in order to gain.

"Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease." John 3:30

Happy Birthday Ethan

Ethan's great-grandparents came for his 3rd birthday. It was so nice to have them here to celebrate with us. This is their first great-grandchild.





But this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. This wasn't how we planned to celebrate his 3rd birthday.

When my daughter was pregnant, Michael and I told her that on Ethan's 3rd birthday, we would take him to Disneyland. Of course that meant we'd take the whole family. We knew at the time it would be an expensive trip, but this was our first grandbaby. With 5 kids, we'd never been able to be so extravagant. So why not with our grandson? Afterall, we would be taking our 5 kids too and it would be a grand time for all.

We had no way of knowing that just months after Ethan's birth Michael would no longer have a job. But honestly, that wouldn't have stopped this. Michael has always been very good with our finances and provided well, and he would make it happen.

We knew things like finances could be a problem, but we never anticipated Ethan might not be ready for Disneyland. How could we know that? Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that at 3 he would not be speaking any words. I never thought he would have seizures and be on medications. Nor could any of us have known that this sweet, beautiful boy would have the struggles he has.

Just to see his smile, you'd never know anything was wrong. All you'd see is his curly hair, inquisitive blue eyes, and a big grin. But when you spoke to him and he didn't respond, you might begin to wonder. His jerky hand movement as he waved, or his awkward gait might tell you something was not quite right. If you asked him if he wanted to go to Disneyland, he probably wouldn't even look up at you. Ethan is not ready for Disneyland.

Will he be ready next year? Will he be able to say "mama?" Will he understand what a plane ride is? Will his face light up when we tell him he is going to meet Mickey Mouse? We don't know. It's hard to know what next year holds. It's difficult to imagine him talking and laughing while waiting in line for the next ride. It's not easy to dream about what the future holds.

We have learned new things about life from Ethan. And we have learned to celebrate the little things. This wasn't the plan for Ethan's 3rd birthday. But we had a glorious time anyway.

Happy 3rd Birthday Ethan!

Happy Birthday

On July 11th, at 12:30a.m. I called Chris. Afterall, it was his 21st birthday. He answered the phone and I wished him a happy birthday. His response was, "Ma, it isn't my birthday yet." I corrected him that although he may be residing in Arizona he was born in Colorado. Therefore, he truly was 21. He couldn't argue with that logic.

This was his very first birthday away from home. I missed him greatly. I missed baking him his favorite cake. (I even had to ask what his favorite cake was this year. Does that mean I am losing touch with him???)

I asked him what he was going to do to celebrate. He acted as if I must be nuts. I was supposed to know that at the stroke of midnight, or a minute thereafter, anyone who just turned 21 absolutely had to go out to a nightclub somewhere to have his first drink. Of course your college buddies who were already 21 were going with you and would proceed to try to get you to drink as much as possible. And I am supposed to wish him well, have a good time??? I did ask him to be wise and be safe, told him I loved him, and wished him a happy birthday.

When the real morning arrived, I put off calling him. I figured he'd be sleeping in for awhile. I was surprised when he phoned around 10a.m. He regaled me with tales of his first night of being 21. He told me of a couple of shots he was "forced" to drink. The only one I remember was something like FIRE, I think he said Tequila and Tabasco sauce. Who thinks up these things??? Is this really supposed to be fun? But, at the same time, I was thankful that he called me. How many 21 year olds will call their mom and share with them what they really did for their birthday?

Somehow, hearing of his celebration, didn't help me feel better about missing out on his 21st birthday. No balloons, no cake, no covering his door with wrapping paper....sigh. I was told "No 21 year old wants to celebrate his birthday with his family," but I think that person doesn't know my son. Happy Birthday Chris!

Strangers In The Night

Ahhh...quiet has arrived temporarily. I have a moment to compose my thoughts. Alas, my brain seems to have fallen victim to stage fright. Those thoughts that have swirled in my head no longer want to be released from their hidden place to become a piece of cyberland.

Well, guess I will have to resort to the telling of a story that happened recently.

There have been some recent burglaries in our area. The first we heard about it was from an officer knocking on our door at 12:30a.m. Of course the kids and I were still up, but hubby was asleep.) The sheriff officer wanted us to shut our garage door. He told us of the burglaries and said most of the burglaries had occurred at homes where the garage was open. He happened to be driving through the neighborhood, so stopped to tell us. (Hey, maybe I can get hubby to get that garage door opener fixed now!)

The next day a frightening thought came. Just the night before, the girl next door was over. When it was time to go, my daughter Sb walked her home. They were only out the door briefly when they came running back into the house. They thought someone was outside and started to run after them. They were afraid to go back outside. We had written it off that they both were a little afraid of the dark. But now we were wondering, could someone have been out there?

Last week, Chris, my son came home from college for a week. His girlfriend had just returned from a semester abroad. He was sitting on my front porch at 3:30a.m. talking on the phone to her. While sitting there, he noticed a guy walking down the street. The guy starts walking through our yard between our house and the neighbors. So my son yells out, "hey! What are you doing?" The guy takes off running, with Chris running after him. Chris was wearing flip flops, so had a hard time keeping up. The guy cut through a neighbors yard 3 houses down.

Chris called the police and they came out. They talked to him and also to the neighbors whose yard the guy disappeared in. (And can you believe, hubby and I slept through the whole thing? We didn't hear about it until the next day.

So now we aren't sure if it was the burglar scoping out the neighborhood, or if "stalker boy" is back and was headed towards the back of our house where El's bedroom is. (For those who don't know, that is a another story. I'll pull it up some other time when my brain decides to be shy.)

Either way, I am thankful that Chris was sitting outside on his cell phone at 3:30a.m. Next time I start to complain about my kids staying up so late at night, I will think twice. Who knows, maybe there is a real good reason they are up.

Need Help

This morning after church I walked into the women's restroom. In front of me, a gentleman was pushing his wife's wheelchair into the restroom. I wondered to myself if he was going to go all the way in with her. But he stopped just inside the door.

I could tell she was struggling to move the chair herself, so I asked if she needed any assistance. She gladly accepted my offer. I pushed the chair to the back of a long line of waiting ladies. It was then that I began to question proper etiquette. Normally, when one stands in this line you wait for a stall door to open. Once open, you take your turn in whatever stall opens up. But wait, when this lady gets to the front of the line, it won't matter which stall door opens, she will only be able to use one. Does this restroom even have a wheelchair accessible stall? I felt so terribly inept at helping this lady. I mumbled something about where the stall was and peaked around the corner to see if there was one and if it was available. Yes, the first stall was wheelchair accessible, but it was already occupied by someone in a wheelchair. In a moment, we were in the front of the line. As stall doors began to open, I spoke to those waiting behind us to go ahead. And we waited. Were we blocking access to people leaving by where we were parked? Should I stand in front so we could carry on a conversation? Was she going to need help once inside the stall? I hated the panicked feeling of not having a better understanding of how to help someone in a wheel chair.

The stall door swung open and two ladies came out; one pushing the other in a wheelchair. She must have needed help once in there. They manuevered around us, or at least tried to. At one point the other pusher told me I needed to go ahead and push the chair forward so they could get around us. I opened the stall door and tried to push the chair forward, but the door did not want to stay open. I nearly caught her foot on the door. How do you do this? I couldn't reach the door to hold it while I pushed, should I try to back in? But if I back in, I will be trapped in the corner by the chair, then what? I did the best I could, fumbling about and go her beside the commode. I asked her where the easiest place to be was, and she said facing the other direction.

Thankfully, the stall was just big enough for me to turn her around so she was more beside the commode, then I squeezed myself past her and asked if she needed further assistance. She said she just needed to put the locks on the chair so it wouldn't move while she was getting in and out. I told her I would use the restroom myself and come back to help her. As I am closing the stall door, I wondered if I could latch it from the outside. No such luck. So I closed it the best I could. While in another stall, I hear someone open her door, apologies and such and I sat there feeling so terribly inadequate to help. Should I have locked the wheels for her or would it have just taken longer since I had no clue how to do it? She looked so frail, how was she going to manage all in there?

As I was washing my hands, I looked around for a lower sink that she would be able to reach from her chair. There wasn't one. Would she be able to reach the sink? I searched in my person and found I had a small bottle of waterless hand sanitizer. Good! I could always offer her that if she couldn't reach the sink. When I was finished I walked to the door of her stall. I told her I was there if she needed anything.

While I was waiting, a friend that I hadn't seen in awhile came in. We exchanged greetings and into a stall she went. I was hoping that this lady finished soon, as I was afraid it would be awkward if my friend came out and began chatting to me. What if I didn't hear the lady say she was finished and needed help? This friend tends to be long-winded and normally it would not be a big deal, but all of the sudden it was. As much as I didn't mind catching up on things, at the moment I didn't care. My friend did come out and began chatting. I thought I heard the soft voice of the lady in the stall but wasn't sure, and my friend kept talking. I glanced over at the stall twice to see if I could make out if she was moving about. I did hear her. I interrupted my friend and turned to the stall door. Yes, she answered, she could use some help. She was having a hard time getting back into the chair. It seemed like the brake was not on all the way and she could not slide back into it.

Once again, I painfully fumbled about trying to assist her back into her chair. Should I hold the chair steady, should I help her hold her weight with one arm, both? Somehow, without much help from me, she did manage to get back into her chair. She could not get the foot pegs in place and there just wasn't much room in the stall, so I told her I'd get her out and we'd manage it once outside the stall. Once again, I pushed her through the door fee first, instead of backing up. I pushed the door open and tried to get her through it before it closed on her. Ugh! This was awful. The door nearly hit her as I pushed it out of the way again. We got around the corner and I pushed her to one side of the room. Then I attempted to lock her foot pegs back in place. I got one, then lifted her foot and put it in what I thought was the right place. I swung the other one forward until I heard a click, then lifted that leg and placed her foot on the platform. I then pushed her chair out the door to where her husband was patiently waiting. He thanked me for helping and took over pushing her chair. Then I realized I didn't even let her wash her hands or even offer the hand cleaner.

The whole experience haunted me during the drive home. I didn't even ask her name. I didn't greet her, ask how she was doing. Nothing. Why didn't I at least engage her in a conversation? When I felt so inadequate, why didn't I tell her I wasn't sure how to do this, could she direct me to what would work best.

Tonight the whole scenario is still with me. I want to be able to help, but I am going to have to get a whole lot more comfortable. Just like when I was in the Dermatologist's office last week. A woman came in who was deaf. She did have someone there to interpret, but I still wanted to be of some assistance. I have been learning sign language with my 2 year old grandson. Somehow asking her if she wanted juice, milk, cracker, cookie, etc. did not seem adequate. Did I know how to say hello, my name is...and ask her how she was. Well, yes, but I have not had a lot of practice with reading sign language. What if she signed something back that I didn't understand and then I did not have a way to communicate that I didn't understand.

The Lord is teaching me much and this is just the beginning I'm sure. I have much to ponder, but in some way, can't help but think this incident will help with my grandson. As he gets older, others may be uncomfortable with him. There is already awkward silence when sometime tried to engage him in a conversation. I don't feel the need to go into an explanation of why he doesn't talk or why he seems different, but I usually try to offer, "he doesn't talk." But that is probably not sufficient, as it might leave others with the impression that he also doesn't understand. But truthfully, does he understand? We don't have the answers either, so the Lord will have to keep training me. I'm sure I will have many more experiences to learn from, no matter how humbling they may be.

Death

When the shadow of death
creeps in unnanounced
w/nary a whisper or hint

It shatters and breaks
the lives that are left
trying to stand, but just barely

If we'd only known
what lay ahead
we could have done things different

But could we really?
would the outcome change?
Or still hanging, stripped to the core?

Death shouldn't be allowed
to take the innocence
nor have a child of any age

Death should be reserved
for the old and aged
ones who've lived a rich full life

What is today
what is tomorrow
in this game that we call life?

Nobody knows
what the next day holds
or for that matter this very day

We can only count
for the moment we hold
and spend it on something worthwhile

The moment for now
is spent on grief
for a life has been lost to death

A very precious life
should be here still
But with it have gone our hearts

Where my heart was
now is emptiness
nothing can fill that space inside