The Real Puppy Story

I posted a picture of Ethan and some puppies last week. He was just visiting the mamma dog and her 10 pups. Ethan is now the proud owner of a Boxer puppy, as is his Uncle Christopher. Here are a few pictures:


Hilary with Dazee and Daphne


Sarabeth helping Ethan with Dazee


A Boy & His Dog

The New Puppy

If you happened to be at my house sometime in the past two days, per chance you noticed a new pet. The kitchen is blocked off, as it is the only flooring with no carpet-so the perfect place to house a not-housetrained critter. Now if you ventured downstairs, as you might, quite possibly you saw another pet. RoboDog. Walking past you'd see Robodog standing in the middle of the room. You would be amazed at the performances of this not-so-cuddly pup. You would marvel at the pile of poop, just beneath the backside of the metal and plastic. How real it looked. And that mound, you would find, is scented just as if it had been freshly laid by its live counterpart.

Wait a minute! The father of the house would happen by and report that not only is that brown goo the real stuff , but it was not manufactured by the robotic dog. Someone had actually found this pile of poop and strategically placed RoboDog in order to trick someone into believing he was the guilty party. As the father questioned those present in the house, you probably heard a few muffled snickers. But nobody would have an idea how RoboDog did it.

There were still 2 absent members of the household. One of them must be the guilty party. Shortly after arriving, the first one home was questioned. Gales of laughter were heard. "Come on Dad, you have to admit, didn't it make you laugh just a little?" I might have cracked a wee smile. This is the sense of humor of a 19 year old. Now aren't you glad you didn't visit my house recently?

Surprise of 2006

Have you ever waited expectantly for something to happen? Something big? Have you sat in anticipation for what yet, you didn't really know but you knew it had to be good?

This was my experience that began at the end of 2004. As Christmas approached I couldn't shake the excitement that churned inside of me. I did not know what it was and I had no idea what was to come, nor was I planning anything. It was one of those God things where you just have a sense that He is up to something-and He was.

I knew I was greatly blessed. I'd been given so much and I was spiritually rich beyond anything I'd ever imagined. What more could I want? But inside I had this sense that I was about to be blessed in a physical, tangible way. A blessing I could grab hold of, something I could see with my eyes and not just my heart.

I love the verse in Ephesians that begins: "Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think," (or can imagine...) I have a very creative, imaginative mind. I tried to envision a big gift for Christmas that would knock my socks off. I remembered a birthday when a friend unexpectedly dropped by with an equisite, bountiful plate of delicious 2 layer brownies. But I knew this would be a bigger surprise. But no matter how hard I tried, I felt I wasn't believing big enough. The only big object that I could come up with was a car. But who would give me a car? Besides, I already had a car-an 8 passenger Suburban. What could be bigger than that?

Christmas came. It was nice, but nothing big happened. The feeling of expectancy didn't leave. Another birthday passed and another Christmas approached. That Christmas/anniversary, Michael did surprise me with a new wedding ring. It was unlike anything I ever imagined I would own. It was big and beautiful, very different than the gold band placed on my finger when we exchanged vows.

The funny thing was, I felt like there was more. For those of you who dont' know me in real life, I have never been a material person. But I had this sense that the Lord was showing me His extravagance in a tangible way. I wasn't sure why, but who was I to question His goodness? As Valentine's Day approached I was sure that something incredible was about to happen. (Some of you may remember reading that it didn't.) But the big blessing didn't come until my birthday.

My socks were definately knocked off. Not only did I receive the gorgeous diamond and ruby earings I'd been admiring, but Michael bought me a brilliant Rio Yellow Convertible Sports Car. Now there are 2 reasons that this was so huge. The first was I do not ever remember owning a small car. I've driven the Suburban for 6 years, and the 12 years prior a full size Ford Van. Imagine a mother of 5 children driving a 2 passenger car with the top down, hair blowing without a care in the world.

The second reason is that my husband is very frugal with his money. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined him buying me such a fun and seemingly frivolous, yet expensive car-just for fun and enjoyment. Money is important to Michael, it means security. For him to be so lavish, so extravagant could only mean one thing. He values me. I am more important than his money, than anything his money can buy. It tells me I am worth it. He is willing to sacrifice in order to see the joy and delight it gives me.

Mary at Owlhaven asked, "what's the best thing that happened to you this year that you could not have predicted a year ago? In other words, what was your best surprise in 2006?" And this was it.

Note to self, must get rid of the Santa hat.

Wordless Wednesday



For more Wordless Wednesdays...

Happy 53rd Birthday Michael!

In honor of my dear husband's birthday, I am writing 53 things about Michael.

53. Michael is 30 years older than his son.
52. He is 30 years younger than his dad.
51. I find I am still learning things about him.
50. Michael likes dark chocolate, but not milk chocolate.
49. He is so very patient with me and my quirkiness.
48. He is a tease and we all laugh at his sarcasm.
47. Michael actually enjoyed shoveling our new huge driveway after the blizzard.
46. He plays Power Rangers with Ethan.

45. He likes curly hair.
44. (I'm glad I have curly hair.)
43. He loves red hair.
42. (Did you notice I'm a redhead now? LOL.)
41. Michael has a gorgeous smile.
40. He works from home, where we share an office.
39. He takes me out to lunch at least once a week (and lets me get Starbucks whenever I want.)
38. He doesn't drink coffee.
37. Michael is trustworthy.
36. He enjoys mowing the lawn and doing yard work.
35. He has a riding lawn mower.

34. Isn't romantic by nature, so instead works very hard at it for me.
33. He never complains about how long it takes me to get ready to go somewhere.
32. He is a genius.
31. Is a member of mensa.
30. He doesn't like computer or video games, but enjoys a good challenge.
29. He has been an incredible provider for me and our 5 kids.

28. Michael is a wonderful father and an even better grandpa.
27. Loves to fly sail planes.
26. He isn't particularly fond of pets.
25. He lets me think I am right.
24. He is honest.
23. He used to be a gymnast.
22. He still has hair.
21. Michael compliments me often.
20. He has his pilot's license.

19. Is amazing with finances and has a gift for earning and investing.
18. He has the greenest lawn on the block (okay, with 1 exception.)

17. Is witty and great with puns.
16. He keeps our cars in great running order (and most of you know about the little gem of a car he bought me.)

15. Michael has been on a 100 mile bike ride.
14. He is a man of character and a man of his word.
13. He is generous.
12. He used to be a flight instructor.
11. He keeps me laughing with his sense of humor.

10. He likes to make me happy, and I am happy most of the time.
9. Michael appreciates anything and everything I cook.
8. Diet Pepsi is his favorite drink.
7. He watches T.V. to relax.
6. He lets me pick out whatever music I want to listen to.
5. Michael is honest in everything he does.
4. He is creative.
3. He is my partner in having fun.

2. He tells me he loves me every day.
1. He just keeps getting better and better.


Happy Birthday Michael!!!

When I was 6, my family attended a small Baptist Church. My brother and I were in the same Sunday School class since so few children went. He is 13 months older than I.

The Sunday before Christmas, the teacher asked, "Whose birthday is next Wednesday?" My brother immediately spoke up, "It's mine!" Mrs. Noel, the teacher of the primary grades very gently told him, "no, it isn't your birthday. Does anyone know the answer?"

"It IS my birthday." My brother insisted. "I will be 8." The teacher turned and looked sternly at him. I wanted to say something, but being so shy, I instead began nodding my head in agreement. His birthday was indeed on Wednesday."

Relenting, Mrs. Noel replied, "okay, it is Greg's birthday, but who else celebrates their birthday on Wednesday?" Without waiting for a response she answered her own question. "Class, next Wednesday is Jesus' birthday." As she continued to share the wonderment over this most magnificent event, my brother just looked sad.

As a child, how do you measure up to sharing a birthday with Jesus? Not only does Jesus' birth outshine yours, but then this Santa character comes in and presents gifts to everyone else on your birthday. Nobody wishes you a Happy Birthday. It is "Merry Christmas, oh, and Happy Birthday too."

My mom tried to be creative in celebrating Greg's birthday. I remember the time he had his birthday party in September. It was the beginning of the school year and he had friends over, birthday hats and birthday wrapping paper. I think he had fun, but I don't think he felt like it was "really" his birthday. My guess is that he felt slighted on his birthday. Too often he was handed a brightly wrapped Christmas gift from unsuspecting friends/relatives with the greeting, "Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday."

With the exception of that Christmas when I was 6, I didn't think much about his birthday being on Christmas. I don't recall ever celebrating it on Christmas.

Do you remember the November I met Michael?(Part One & Part 2) A few short weeks later, I was at his parents' home to celebrate his birthday. His mother always made a big deal out of his birthday. His falls on December 24th. His sister's is the 26th. Three days of birthday celebration.

As I'd grown accustomed to, I presented my gift to Michael. It was wrapped in beautiful Christmas paper. "Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday." I watched the look of shock and horror from the faces of his sisters. One of them spoke up. "It is Michael's birthday, not Christmas. You never wrap someone's birthday gift in Christmas paper." I was embarrassed, humiliated. I'd never given it much thought.

Talking with Michael, he said he'd never felt slighted in regards to his birthday being on Christmas Eve. Now I understood why. I never made the mistake of wrapping a December birthday gift in Christmas paper, nor did I hand a single gift with birthday and Christmas greetings together. I wonder how Jesus feels as we go about our celebrations, anticipation of Santa's arrival and all, and then throw in the token Christmas Eve attendance at church.

The Beauty of Colorado

The sun is already shining again. It stopped snowing a couple of hours ago. Here are some more photos:


El's car in the snow-you can see the side mirror


Starting to melt off the car a bit


Sunshine!




Sitting in the snow

Oh the weather outside is frightful,
but the fire is so delightful.
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

So far, we have 34 inches of snow. It should stop snowing in the next 5-6 hours. Shopping? Tomorrow? Hmmm...maybe Saturday? I know, many of you would like to say to shop online. That is great, but packages won't be arriving, not even the U.S. mail came yesterday and won't be going out today. I know some parents who are going to be telling their children that Santa just couldn't get through the blizzard. We never did the Santa gig, but at the moment, I'm wondering if I could have gotten some mileage out of that one.

I haven't been off the front porch to get decent photos. The girls did some sledding yesterday. Michael shoveled every few hours so he wouldn't have the full 34 inches to shovel today.


4:00 Yesterday


8:00 This morning

(Edited)
I stepped out my back deck (yes, in my pajamas) to get a couple more photos. I know Christopher is missing the snow and wants to see it since he (hopefully) will fly in on Saturday. (I am so happy he wasn't flying in today or yesterday as the airport is shut and who knows if those people will make another flight.)




This is our covered deck. Because of the strong winds, the snow blew in to the door.


This is our back fence that is 5 feet tall.



I'm not just dreaming of a White Christmas anymore!

Christmas Shopping

I began my Christmas shopping yesterday and found out why it is NOT a good idea to wait so long to start. I thought I would attack it again today-early! I awoke at 6, as usual, then went to wake up my girls for school. When I opened my bedroom door, I could hear chatter. This is very unusual. It is rare that anyone awakens before me. I could see the glow of the television and gleeful sounds filling the room.

"What is going on?"

The girls were dancing around, arms linked. One had the phone to her ear conversing at the same time. Hilary ran up, grabbed me as she sang, "snow day, snow day!"

You've got to be kidding. My kids never get a snow day, well, once every 4 or 5 years. I looked out the window. There was a frosty dusting, but where was this snow that would cause such an interruption to my plans?

The girls assured me that it indeed was true. They showed me on the computer screen and again on the t.v.

Blizzard Warnings. 16-24 inches of snow expected.

Yikes! Doesn't anyone realize the students have final exams today? What about my Christmas shopping?

Looks like a good day to decorate that artificial tree we put together last night. It is our first fake tree ever. Where is the smell of Christmas? The tree is the one scent that lingers, unlike the freshly baked goodies. I love waking up and breathing in the outdoor air of pine. I'd settle for warm cookies today if I had the ingredients to bake them.

Time to reflect on the true meaning of Christmas. Our Savior's birth.


(It's beginning to snow.)

No Tree

Hmmm...I am not sure what we are going to do. We always buy a fresh cut Christmas Tree at the local grocery store. Since we were going to Christopher's graduation and would be out of town, we decided to get it when we returned. We went to purchase our tree and to our wonder and amazement there wasn't one in sight. We just might not have a tree this year. Sigh.

But here is a quick family photo after the graduation. (Of course I will speak more about that later.)

Wordless Wednesday

The Experiment



More Wordless Wednesdays
(Today is the day we leave to attend Christopher's graduation!!!! Won't be back online until Sunday.)

What is it like?

What is it like to have your Christmas shopping finished before December 1st, have your tree and lights glowing, and your entire house adorned with lovely holiday decor? Do you sit by the fireplace at night, sipping hot cider singing carols and enjoying those beautifully decorated cookies? Do you spend afternoons delivering packages and goodies to those less fortunate? Are you all decked out in red sweaters and gold, sharing with friends at Christmas Teas?

Okay, maybe this isn't anyone's life. And truthfully, I have nobody to blame but myself. I am very excited to be getting on the plane with the 6 other members of my family and leaving the chaos behind. The tree won't be up, the shopping won't be finished, err...started, cookies won't be baked. I've more important things to do this week.

Christopher is graduating from COLLEGE on Thursday. I know, it doesn't seem possible. High school graduation was a mere 3 1/2 years ago. But here he is. As always, I have much more to say about this, but am on a pretty tight schedule. So let me just shout:

Congratulations Christopher! I am so proud of you.

The Thinking of a 14 Year Old

Hilary is sick. She's been sick. I've been pumping her full of drugs so she can keep dragging herself off to school and practice. She didn't want to miss the first basketball game tonight. Monday she stayed home. Tuesday she went to school. Wednesday a trip to the doctor. Thursday back to school.

Friday: I wake her up and can tell she's running a fever. It's 102. More medicine and I tell her she is not going to school and we are making another trip to the doctor.

An hour later, she comes upstairs wearing shorts.

"I don't know what to do." She looks like she might fall over any minute.

"What do you mean?" I'm wondering if she's going to ask if she can still go to the basketball game.

"Do I have to stay in bed under the covers?"

"What?"

"I am so hot, I don't think I can stand to lay under the covers anymore."

"Your fever is probably breaking, which makes you sweat and feel hot. Why would you stay under the blankets?"

"Because people say when you have a fever you should sweat it out."

I almost laughed out loud, but instead reassured her that it was ok if she didn't remain bundled in her bed. I have no idea who people are. I wish she'd quit listening to them. Maybe then she'd believe me when I tell her things instead of arguing what these people have told her.

Update: She has pneumonia

Videos

I know, I haven't been around much, but I have a good excuse. My family loves watching home videos. A few years back I began the painful process of transferring them to DVD. This takes a LONG time. (Somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 hours per DVD.) I believe I've completed 6 or 7 DVDs. It isn't a simple one-step process and 1 tape doesn't translate into 1 DVD-usually 2. We have 83 videotapes. I thought I could do this over Christmas break that year. Crazy!

So where am I going with all of this? My darling husband, Michael, decided the other day that HE would take on this monstrous task as a sort of Christmas gift to the family. What a wonderful, thoughtful gift! I forgot that my computer was required to do this. While this process is running, my computer becomes unfunctional for any other purpose. Since my multi-talented, multi-tasking counterpart is still asleep, thought I'd sneak on here and let you all know where I've been. I may not be around as much as I'd like to.

Hey, maybe I will get my Christmas shopping done in a timely fashion this year. Quite possibly those Christmas cards might ship before Christmas, cookies baking in the oven filling the house with delicious scents, decorations aglow...who am I kidding? It just wouldn't feel like Christmas if I didn't run around at the last minute like a crazed woman.

December 1st

How did that happen? Do the days get shorter as we get older? Everyone tells me it is just my imagination, but I think it must be true. I remember being in 1st grade. The school day was at least 10 hours long, no kidding. There is no way it was any shorter. My mom says no, it was only a 6 hour school day. Surely the school had 90 minute hours on their clocks.

I remember after 3 long months of school December would finally arrive. But was it really only 25 days until Christmas? It seemed like an eternity. I'm telling you, the days were twice as long.

December is here again. Yes, Christmas will be here in 25 days. No, that is not 25 long days. Those 25 days are the short ones. They whir past. If I am not careful, I will wake up tomorrow and it will be the 18th. I'll blink and suddenly it's Christmas Eve. How does this happen?

I want to go back to the good old days when time moves a little more slowly. I don't like waiting, but somewhere along the way I missed the average days. I went straight from long, drawn-out days to time warp speed, not-able-to-finish-anything. Trust me, when they say "Christmas is just around the corner," believe it. I just hope when I'm out shopping this afternoon I don't accidently run into it. I can't have time going any faster.

Quiz

I saw this quiz over at Rocks In My Dryer I realize I scored 100%, but that in no way reflects the grammar on this blog. I suppose I should pay closer attention or edit more, but then I'd never post anything.

Your Language Arts Grade: 100%

Way to go! You know not to trust the MS Grammar Check and you know "no" from "know." Now, go forth and spread the good word (or at least, the proper use of apostrophes).

Are You Gooder at Grammar?
Make a Quiz

Cold

It is bitter cold.

Hilary forgot her pom bag, so after school I took it to her. It was interesting to watch the kids leaving the school building. It was 15 degrees outside and snowing. Some students wore coats, hats, and gloves, but they were not the norm. Many wore no coat at all, some came out carrying their coats (mostly girls.) A few guys were wearing short-sleeves, no jacket, and sported shorts. I shook my head wondering what they were thinking. At what point would they feel so cold that they wouldn't keep walking that "cool" walk as if it wasn't below freezing. And then out walks my daughter.

She sauntered out. Was she wearing a jacket? No. Sweater or long sleeves? T-shirt. Her excuse was she didn't want to keep me waiting, so didn't go for her jacket. I offered to get her fastfood as she wouldn't be home until nearly 8 tonight. On the way she tells me this story:

"So I was in choir and we had this sub, and we weren't doing anything, so I asked the teacher if I could go outside and make a snow angel, and she said yes-just hurry. So I did. When I laid down, it was really cold. My arms went numb and when I came in they were all red. My t-shirt got wet. But it was the coolest snow angel I've ever seen."

I shook my head. I am not sure this child is related to me.

(Here is a pic taken on the drive home and one after I arrived home. Wish I'd had one of that "cool" snow angel.)

Wordless Wednesday

A Season For Everything

Only 5 More Times

To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven

Brian will only have to put his father to bed 5 more times. His father has decided to be sedated on Saturday. The sedation will hasten his death and basically put him in a coma. He will remain in bed. No more late nights for Brian to tuck his father in bed again.

A time to kill

This makes me angry. I do not know why this man has chosen to do so. In my finite mind, I believe God gives us only so many days to live out on this earth. In everything there is a purpose...even in those very dark and difficult days where it is nearly impossible to catch one's breath. I think it is selfish and self-centered to try to end one's days before it is time.

And a time to heal


I think about our beloved pets. When one becomes sick, aged or is "suffering" we decide to put it down to bring relief from the pain. But whose pain are we really intending to ease? Is it truly to help the animal, or is it we who cannot endure the pain of watching them? We want to escape the burden of feeling their hurt. We don't want to be sad any longer. We want to move on.

A time to weep

Is this what motivates Brian's father? Is he trying to ease his own suffering, or does it hurt to see his son in agony over his father's condition? If he is sedated, he will no longer have to feel the pain he sees on his son's face. He won't glimpse the tears welling in his eyes. Again, it seems so selfish, a coward's way out.

A time to break down

What if after he is sedated, good news arrives? What if the conception of a new baby is discovered? A time to be born, And a time to laugh The grandfather will miss out, because he has chosen to numb his last hours and days of life-to not live, but to linger.

A time to love

Maybe I am the selfish one, wanting to see this man live through Christmas. I don't want our holidays marred by sadness. Since Elisabeth is dating Brian the grief saturates her life, and flows out to the rest of the family.

A time to mourn

Elisabeth went to class today, but her instructor could tell something was wrong. She questioned her, and by the second asking, Elisabeth was in tears. She shared her pain. The instructor began crying. It was the anniversary of her own mother's death. I think maybe this woman needed someone to share her own pain. She also, having been down this path, had something to give to my daughter. She understood some of what Brian is dealing with. It was a good conversation.

And A time to embrace

God works in mysterious ways. We don't always see how He is putting the pieces together. Others say I can't know what I'd do without living in the situation. But I don't want to be the one who tries to complete the puzzle. I want to wait and let Him work them in and at some point, step to the other side and see the completed work.

A time to keep silence,
And a time to speak

Death is a part of life.

And a time to die

He's Here, He's Gone

I was so excited to have Christopher home for Thanksgiving, you'd think I would have taken at least one photo. But nope! I don't have a single one of Thanksgiving or the other 2 days he was here. I'm not sure what happened to those plans for taking that perfect family photo for Christmas cards. All I can say is, we were too busy just enjoying the moment. Anything else would have required too much thought and effort. Sometimes you just take the down time and make the most of it, and we did.

Wordless Wednesday

For more Wordless Wednesdays, go here.
(I'm not very good at wordless. The story follows.)

Thanksgiving Memories

It was my first attempt to make an entire Thanksgiving meal on my own, and my inlaws were coming to visit. I only had 2 children, but I worried how it would all come together. Preparing for houseguests was stressful enough, but compounded by a toddler that loved making messes coupled with Thanksgiving and all of the trimmings, I felt more than overwhelmed. I wanted so much to provide a comfortable, relaxed home for my inlaws, along with a delicious meal enjoyed in the company of well-behaved grandchildren.

They arrived the day before. I stayed up late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, baking pies. I must have been tired, as I didn't hear my children wake before me. How must that look to the grandparents? A mother who doesn't get up and have breakfast waiting for her children? I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. There stood my little boy.

"Yum, yum! This is good Mommy."

He was covered in orange and was eating the middle of both pumpkin pies. This was before digital cameras, but I doubt I would have grabbed the camera. I started to cry.

Thankfully, I have the best inlaws in the world and should not have worried. In fact they probably cooked more of the dinner than I did. They were such a help and so encouraging. After that I never felt I needed to impress them. They'd had 5 kids and understood little boys enjoyed eating pumpkin pie. Somehow, when you are a grandparent you don't stress over those things. That is why when 18 years later I awoke to find Mr. Ethan eating the middles of the pumpkin pie, I grabbed my camera. I love being a grandparent!

The Car Story

(Part Two)

After the neighbor confirmed our suspicion that John was indeed spying on and following Elisabeth we weren't sure what to do. Elisabeth tried to reassure us that John wasn't that bad. She said she thought he really cared about her but had some jealousy issues but she could handle it. Because they had so many classes together at school, she felt if they could remain friends at some level the situation would be easier to manage. She spoke with the school counselor.

We didn't hear much about John for awhile, but that was probably due to Elisabeth trying to keep us from worrying. One night she was at a friend's house and John began calling. After 20 or so calls that went unanswered, she turned her phone off. John showed up at the house and said he wouldn't leave until she came out. Her friends convinced him otherwise.

A week later, Elisabeth spent the night with this friend. When she awoke, she found the damage to her car. She phoned us and she phoned a friend at church to say she wasn't going to make it. Within an hour John called. He was at church and had "heard" what happened from Elisabeth's friend. Once again, he seemed to have more information about her car than what she had shared.

After speaking to others, Elisabeth found out that John had been at a party the night before. Mutual friends of theirs admitted John had expressed anger towards Elisabeth at the party. But nothing could be proved or substantiated regarding who damaged the vehicle or at what time John left the party. Others that had been at the party told Elisabeth privately some things, but because they had lied to their own parents about the party and where they'd spent the night, none were willing to come forward with information.

That is pretty much the end of the car story. The car has new tires and a new windshield, but the rest of the damage is still there. I'd like to say that was also the end of the stalking behavior of John, but it wasn't. We were so thankful when after graduation he went to another state to play football. He came home over the summer, which is why we become concerned with circumstances like this. Once the school year began, we relaxed. Elisabeth started back at the local community college. Imagine our shock when after her first day she was walking out of class and John was walking into the same class.

Update

Quick tooth update: Wednesday morning the dentist said he could put another cap on Ethan's little piece of a tooth. The good news, they could do it right then and did NOT have to put him out to accomplish the task. Forty-five minutes later, he came out crying, but his tooth was fine. (They don't let parents, or grandparents back with the children.) I held him for a few minutes and then he was happy.

Once home he acted like nothing ever happened...well, until about 3 hours later. He had a funny look on his face and we noticed that he was missing his new tooth.

On Friday, we will go to the dentist and try again.

The Car Story (part 1)

(Part One)

I was waiting in front of the school when she walked out. Hmmm...was that guy walking with her? Elisabeth opened the car door.

"Mom, can you drive John (not his real name) to the corner of the shopping mall? That is where his grandpa picks him up."

"Sure."

Once inside, Elisabeth introduced us. "This is John. He used to go to our school, but moved away. Now he is back." He was pretty quiet in the car, but then we didn't have very far to drive. After he got out, Elisabeth told me how he and his mother had moved away. She was a single mom and had a boyfriend in another state but it hadn't worked out and John was back. She told me he didn't really have any friends, so she was trying to be nice to him. I was proud of my daughter for reaching out to the new kid. I'd been the new kid at school, so understood how difficult it could be making friends. I hoped it wouldn't be too difficult for him since this was a Christian school.

Over the months, Elisabeth often talked to John on the phone. Because she was a cheerleader and he was a football player I began seeing him often at school events. He and his mom also attended our church. But the more I saw him the more uneasy I felt. There wasn't any one particular thing that stood out as unusual, but there were some little things that I found bothersome. John never seemed to look you7 in the eye when he talked to you. Too often I'd find Elisabeth arguing with someone on the phone. When I'd ask, she was always talking to John.

The following school year Elisabeth ended up with the locker furthest away from classrooms. The school had grown so much, it had begun using what were previously locker room lockers as regular lockers. John offered to let her share his locker and unwisely she agreed.

John asked her to go to the Homecoming Dinner that October and so they went together. Shortly thereafter, although not dating, John began to become very controlling. He would call and harass Elisabeth over who she spent time with, where she'd go and even her phone calls. He figured out her 4 digit password and began retrieving her phone messages. He'd take her phone & read her text messages. She was eating at McDonald's before cheerleading practice one day. He showed up (how did he know she was there?) and began yelling at her because a male classmate was sitting with her.

Michael and I spoke with Elisabeth about how unhealthy this relationship was and that she needed to distance herself from John. She agreed, but found it increasingly more difficult to separate herself from him. Even with not sharing a locker, he still knew her locker combination. They attended the same youth group, she was still a cheerleader and he a football player and they were in many of the same classes at school.

Being a part of the same Christian community, we tried to cut him some slack. But over time, it became apparent that his behavior resembled that of a stalker. Too often he had information about Elisabeth that in order to know certain things meant he was no doubt following her, watching her every move.

One day one of my neighbors came over and asked if I had a minute to talk. She explained that she'd been sitting on her porch one day and saw Elisabeth drive past. Shortly afterwards she saw another car. Instead of driving down the cul-de-sac, it had turned on the street directly in front of her house. After pulling just beyond some bushes, she said she watched as a young man got out of the car. He walked down the street just far enough so that he could see our house from his vantage point without us noticing him. She said he stood there watching for quite some time. She was quite bothered by this, so got up from her chair and began walking towards him. As she got closer, she called out to him. According to her, he turned, saw her coming and ran back to his car, got in and sped off. She described John and his car quite accurately.

(I see I'm going to have to share this story in parts, so "to be continued...")

Interruption

My unforeseen interruption came last night. I was finishing up the dishes when the phone rang. Christina was on her way to class and noticed Ethan's front tooth was missing. Normally this would be one of those memorable firsts that we grab the camera to capture a photo, but not this one. Like his Gramma, Ethan's two front teeth are not quite real. Although his look pearly white, unlike mine did when I was growing up, the backs of them are the unmistakable shiny silver variety-only one was missing. She'd put a call into the dentist and they could get him in first thing this morning. After class they would drive up and stay with us. She wouldn't have the long drive early in the morning. What I'm saying is: I'm going to the dentist with Ethan this morning, the "story" will have to wait.

After the phone call, I double-checked the calendar to make sure it was my night to pick up the girls from Poms. Yes, November 14th was my day. While driving that date stuck in my head and I remembered why. Exactly 5 years earlier on November 14th, Christina came to me to tell me the news. I was going to be a Gramma. It was quite a shock at the time, as it was totally unexpected. I don't have time to share that story either, but will direct you to an earlier post that mentions this time. Oh, and maybe I WILL take pictures of the lost tooth.

(For some reason, I cannot get just that one post to come up in the link. It brings up a whole page-maybe something to do with not switching to Beta yet? The story is "UNEXPECTED" partway down that page.) Nevermind. I will just repost it.

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.

Slashed A Hole

Do you know the song by Carrie Underwood "Before He Cheats?" You know, the girl who also sings Jesus "Take the Wheel?" The chorus of the song is:

And he don't know...

That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little suped up 4 wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seat...
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

And maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

Elisabeth hates this song. I don't blame her. Some of you already know the story, but for those who don't, here are the photos of her car.













The pictures don't show the full damage. Yes, all 4 tires were slashed, those "designs" were scraped into the paint on every door, the hood, roof, trunk, and side panels. Every window was scratched, as were both side mirros. Sadly, we'd removed the insurance on the car that would have covered this type of damage. We never dreamed we could have damage so extensive when there had not been an accident.

It has been just over 2 years since this happened. No one has taken responsibility for the damages. "My" version of this story will follow tomorrow, as long as I have no unforeseen interruptions.

Sights & Sounds Sunday

(Things seen or heard in Colorado)

Silver Teeth

Mary, over at Owlhaven, wrote a post about scars. She asked others to post about their own scars. I didn't get it posted right away, so it is long past everyone else's post, but I'm going to post anyway.

Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We lived in this rented home with a cool ramp out the back door. I'm sure it was a wheelchair accessible door, but we kids found plenty of other uses for it. That winter, on a very cold night, we found that we could pour water down the ramp and it would freeze as it flowed. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.

This night, my parents had guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content to sit there and talk, we slipped out the back. We needed more ice on our slope. Bucket after bucket was poured until we had one of the finest ice slides. Then the fun began. We raced one another down the ice wearing the slickest shoes we could find. Only 2 kids could race at a time and my older brother and sister were quite competitive. I wasn't getting too many turns while they practiced and had opportunity to strategize the quickest way down. Finally it was my turn again.

Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I found myself falling face first onto the ice. I don't remember much after that. I do recall blood dripping down and my sister trying to keep me from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think my other sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.

My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad, but my parents were more concerned with my missing teeth. Our company knew of a dentist who worked emergencies. After a couple of phone calls we were in the car, off to see the dentist. I came home with two new shiny silver teeth and a fat lip. The next day, my brother found my two front teeth stuck in the ice.

Truthfully, this isn't a scar, but I wore those silver teeth like a scar. When I smiled, people were blinded by the reflection off of those two teeth. That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." And I sang it until I was 18 years old. I finished my elementary career wearing those tinsel teeth. I went on to junior high and high school, sporting that metalic smile. I endured much teasing and laughter because of this scar. At times I felt like a freak. But somehow, I believe it built compassion and tenderness into my heart. Scars can be character building. They can be a reminder of what once was, or we can embrace them, knowing our Lord also has scars.



(Honestly, it is difficult to post, but I had to include a picture. This was one of my school pictures from 7th grade.)

Tense

I am feeling tense this morning, and this is not normal for me. I do not like getting phone calls at unusual times and am wondering if this is the source of some anxiety.

It is 7:20a.m. and at this time yesterday I received one of those phone calls. Caller ID showed that it was one of my girls who'd left for school. What did she forget now, I wondered. (But for a second, there is always that fear that there has been an accident.)

"Mom, we ran out of gas on the highway. But don't worry, it was close to the exit and we walked to the gas station and got a gas can. Just thought I'd let you know."

My first thought was why is the 14 year old calling and not the 17 year old. The second was disbelief. You mean the car died, they coasted down the off ramp, walked to a gas station, bought a gas can with gas all BEFORE calling home for help?

Michael walked in as I hung up the phone. He felt bad about the girls running out of gas. He is notorious for telling Sarabeth "oh you have plenty of gas, you could go another 50 or 60 miles on that tank of gas." And she probably could have, if we hadn't drove it 50 miles on Saturday. Oh, and I was the one who filled the tank last, and forgot to reset the mileage for about 10 miles making it inaccurate. Guilt.

That's not to excuse the person driving the car, as if she doesn't know how to look at the gas guage. And she had intended to get gas on the way home from school. Instead, she had an unexpected adventure on the way to school.

I am proud of them for being able to handle the situation, but maybe that is why I am feeling tense. What if they were in an accident? Would they wait to call until after the police came, after they'd gone to the hospital? Can I know longer look at the clock and rest easy that they are already safely at school based on the time alone? Even though I was happy they handled it, I'm concerned that one of them might be afraid to call home when something happens that they perceive was irresponsible on their part. So they try to take care of it on their own to make us proud. I am left to wonder if they are sitting safely in school, or on the side of the road somewhere dealing with who knows what. Ugh! It isn't easy being a parent and knowing the right thing to do.

What Matters Today

This is what I woke up to this morning. After we'd gone to bed last night, Elisabeth went up to the store, bought flowers and a card. She'd written a lovely note thanking us for being there for her, especially during the tough times of high school and for loving her through them. (Have I mentioned how much fun teenagers are?) Sure there are bumps along the way, but you also begin to see their character taking shape. As you turn them loose, watch them struggle through mistakes, do the right thing, it is pure joy to a parent's heart. (And even more so as they move beyond those years and they make you ever so proud as you watch them become adults.) Thank-you Elisabeth.

But this got me to thinking, what am I doing that counts? Did I do anything today that made a difference? So, I wanted to put out a challenge to anyone who reads this. Today go above and beyond in some small (or big) way to make a difference in someone else's life.

That might mean sending a text message to remind someone you love them. Or when that kid spills her milk for the 3rd time instead of yelling like you want to, you lean over, kiss her forehead and tell her it's ok and that you are so thankful you get to be her mommy. Maybe you are standing in line at the grocery store and get in the absolute slowest line. The person behind you is muttering unkind things under their breath so you let them go ahead of you and say something kind to them-or to the checker who is going as fast as humanly possible (or maybe is just taking their time.) While you are going about your day, whether it is planned or something that happens spontaneously that you think of because of this challenge do something that counts. Then come back and leave a comment about what you did. (Or put it on your own blog and leave the link.)

Let the count begin!

Brian

Elisabeth met Brian at work when he began coming by the house. He seemed like a nice enough kid. It was difficult to get to know him because he usually didn’t arrive until after 10 o'clock at night. I know teenagers often keep late schedules but I became increasingly annoyed that he came over so late. Elisabeth was 18 and she had graduated from high school, so I chose not to say anything.

We didn't see Brian for a while. He took a job at a ski resort for the winter. Occasionally Elisabeth would mention his name, but nothing significant. Sometime in May Brian came over again. He had moved back. I asked her what he was doing now. Would he be going to go to school in the fall? Did he have a job? Elisabeth wasn't sure. His late night visits began again. I found myself getting irritated that he rarely came over during the day, just at night.

One night as I headed to bed, I stopped to preset the coffee and layout the lunches for the next morning. Brian had just arrived and he was sitting at the kitchen table with Elisabeth. I overheard their conversation.

"Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" She asked.

"It is just wrong that a kid has to put his father to bed every night." Brian put his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes to keep the tears from falling.

Brian's dad has Lou Gehrig's disease or ALS. Brian's mom and dad are divorced and much of his father's care falls to Brian. His dad is wheelchair bound and requires help getting into bed. Brian isn't free to leave his home until his father is safely tucked in at night.

Yes, it does seem wrong for a kid, or teenager to have to put his father in bed at night. Not every teen that stays up late does so by choice.

Pumpkins

Pumpkins





(For more Wordless Wednesdays)

Halloween Memories

My mom was so cool about making costumes. I was blessed with creative, imaginative, homemade costumes every year. Somewhere there are pictures to prove this, I just wish I had them.

When I was in second grade, my mom decided my younger sister and I would be martians. I loved the idea. Nobody in my class was ever dressed the same as me. I was unique. My sister, on the other hand, wanted to be like everybody else. I think she wanted to be a ballerina. There were probably 7 ballerinas in my class that year. (All of the lucky girls who took dance classes, and whose parents were not as creative.) I,unlike anyone else but my sister, had this pointy-hat, green polka-dotted, space kind of outfit. It was cool. Mine was green. Laurie's was pink. Somewhere there is a picture of us together. There I am in all my glory, and there my sister is, arms in the air, toes pointed with one leg up in her most ballerina kind of way while wearing this martian space suit.

Makes me wonder if she remembers this. Could have been one of those childhood traumatic experiences for her, while I have nothing but fond memories.

Batteries

I walked in the room to see Michael pulling my cell phone from my purse.

"You caught me," he said matter-of-fact. Then proceeded to remove my battery.

"So what are you doing?"

"My battery is dead, so I'm swapping it for yours."

Ah, since he was golfing he needed a freshly charged battery and I have no where to be so I can stay home and charge mine. But today I had a lot of errands to run...sigh. I have no life.

A few days ago I plugged my phone into the charger and it didn't work. "What the...my charger won't work."

"Oh yes it does." (This response from my daughter Elisabeth.) "You just have to hold it just right, and move the cord like this until it starts charging."

"And you know this why?"

"I swapped chargers with you."

Oh, I see. The charger works perfectly fine for someone who has no life and can sit and play with the cord until it is working. But for someone who has places to be and doesn't have time....sigh. I have no life.

So what was I doing this morning with my freshly charged battery? I was swapping it out for Hilary's dead one. She, in her most generous way, loaned her charger to a friend who'd left hers at someone's house. She assumed since we have 5 of the same phones and chargers here, it wasn't a big deal. She's right. The mom volunteered her battery without even being asked, since she has no life.

(A P.S. For those who are curious, no I did NOT make the game Friday night. It was one of those fierce debates that goes on in my head and when I finally decided to go I began to second guess whether I'd REALLY make it in time. By the time that wrestling match was decided, I knew I would be late. To make up for it, I stayed at the performance on Saturday for 5 hours, even though the girls dance was only 3 minutes long.)

Sigh

I'm sitting here, listening to Christmas music and feeling incredibly guilty. Christmas music???? Yes. Two days ago I saw my neighbors Christmas lights going up, so I figured if they could put their lights up, then I could listen to music. No, they aren't for Halloween. These are CHRISTMAS lights. They have this sweet deal. A company comes out and puts them all up for them. Then sometime after Christmas they bring their trucks and ladders and take them all down. They even store them during the rest of the year. I have no idea how much it costs, but sounds pretty sweet if you ask me. So, as I said before, if they can have their Christmas lights up, I can listen to Christmas music.

Oh, you want to know why I'm sitting her feeling guilty? No, no, it isn't because I don't have my lights up, or because I'm listening to Christmas music before Halloween. No, not anything like that. It is Friday afternoon. Hilary is at a football game and I am not there. I try not to ever miss my kids games. (No, she doesn't play football.) But she is on the Pom line and they perform during half time.

So why am I not there? Well, I could say that it is because I still am not feeling well, but when does that ever stop me? Maybe it is because they've been doing "mini-poms" all week. That is where younger girls come and the Poms teach them a dance over several days. They then perform at the football game. So technically, Hilary isn't really performing. She is dancing with them, but it is a simple dance and really for the younger girls and their parents to come watch. (We went to many "mini-cheerleading" performances when my girls were in elementary school.)

I know, I should be more supportive. But tomorrow Hilary has an all day competition that I will be at for her. Doesn't that count? Can't that count for a football game too? Shoot! If I leave right now, I can still make half-time and see her perform. I better get off the computer and get my shoes on. I don't like feeling guilty.

Behind

Well as you can tell, I've been behind in blogland once again. I was getting so tired of myself, I finally broke down and went to the doctor yesterday to get treated for this sinus infection. I am hoping in the next couple of days I will feel "normal" once again. I have several posts begun and saved that I WILL get to. For now, you have to enjoy Colorado with me. The first photo was taken this morning. The second this afternoon. Notice the sunshine (it is the same tree and hedge.)





Did I mention that I LOVE Colorado???

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday (a bit late)

Yes!

Yum

Mmmmm...Delicious

I didn't get to sleep in this morning, but as the sun began to come up the freshly fallen snow glistened in the light. Every tree was covered in sparkling white-just beautiful.

The carpool didn't show up, so I had to quickly dress and make the 40 minute roundtrip drive. But when I arrived home, I met the Fed-Ex man bearing gifts. I quickly opened the package to find some of these:



Six huge mouthwatering brownies and a bag of coffee beautifully wrapped with a note reading,
"A Surprise Treat! Take a well deserved break. Love, Mom & Dad"

Now is that a delicious morning or what? Brownies and coffee for breakfast in the peace and beauty of newly fallen snow. Just had to share.

P.S. Thanks Mom and Dad! And if anyone is interested in these delicious brownie gifts they come from Fairytale Brownies Mom has sent these before and they also have coffee, hot chocolate and everything is scrumptious. They come beautifully wrapped; makes you feel like royalty. I should have taken a picture of them. Try them out if you want to surprise someone with an exquisite chocolate treat.

Wake Up

Beep! Beep! Beep! This is my alarm clock so rudely interrupting tranquility of the early morning. I despise being awakened by anything other than the sweet whimpering cry of a newborn babe, soft caress or warm embrace. Several years back, when I was no longer awakened by gentle, child noises, I set out to find a kinder alarm clock.

A clock radio. I do love music, so I could awaken to the soothing sounds of jazz, a melodic country jig, a powerful praise to the Father-any radio station I pleased. Unfortunately, this did not prove to be a peaceful move. We live near a beautiful mountain. It makes for a lovely view, but blocks out many radio stations. Too often I awakened to white noise or "snow," or those old enough to remember. It was was produced when television stations would sign off at night. (Yes, for you young ones, there was a time in the wee hours of the night that one could turn on the idiot box to find nothing but fuzz on their screens-signaling a time for activity to cease.) This static noise was not the wake up call I desired, so I returned to the beep.

I was well aware that I could purchase a CD clock radio. The problem is I was too cheap to do that. I figured I would wait for the price to drop. Eventually, it did. I began looking at them in various stores. But one day I happened across a clock with nature sounds. Ah, now this might work. It was actually cheaper than any of the CD alarm clocks, so I went for it. Chirping birds, singing crickets, bubbling water. It worked for a couple of days. But my grandson was fascinated by this new electronic device with big buttons and regularly changed my preferences. He also liked the big off button and I enjoyed a few times of sleeping in later than I should have. It found its way into the trash can beside the bed. (It didn't hold up well to the abuse it sustained.)

I'd waited long enough for pleasant early mornings. I bought a CD clock. Excitedly, I placed my current favorite disc into the slot. I then spent quite a long time figuring out how to work the blasted thing. There were 2 alarm options-his and hers I can only assume. Totally unnecessary. Michael has never used an alarm clock in the 23 years we've been married. Where was the snooze button? Ooops, that turns on the radio. That is the selection for which song on the disc I want to hear. Nap feature-when accidently set, the alarm goes off 20 minutes after laying down. I can adjust the snooze from 9 minutes to 20. Shoot! I just picked 6 p.m. to awaken. Grrr...the format was nothing like any of the others I'd had. How was I going to adjust this one in the dark if the need should arise? Could I tell late Friday night whether or not I'd turned it off so my one day to sleep in wouldn't be disturbed? Ugh!

It was not a wise thing to use my favorite CD. Too often I would play it during the day with the volume turned up so I could hear it better, only to find it blast me out of bed the next morning. Or I would swipe the disc for my listening pleasure while driving my car. Then there would be lovely white noise, or worse-silence. I began to believe there was a conspiracy. Possibly, someone was trying to tell me I really shouldn't awaken so early in the morning. Really, I must need my sleep.

But then, something funny happened. One morning I awakened to the rousing anthem of the Star Spangled Banner. I'd pulled my CD the day before and in its place was a new radio station that was tuned. Wow, now I could get used to this patriotic nostalgia. Guess what? They played it every morning. I still fumbled for the snooze button, didn't remember which buttons did what, but life was good.

This morning I hit the snooze as usual. When I heard talk coming from the radio, I hit snooze again and fell back asleep. The third time music was playing. I could not believe I had hit snooze more than once. What was I thinking? I do not allow myself enough time to snooze more than once. I hastily swung my arm over the edge of the bed to turn the noise off before Michael's sleep was too disturbed. What in the...??? The numbers were blurry but that first digit looked much more like a 4 than a 6. I began pushing buttons trying to figure out if the second alarm had somehow been set for this earlier time, or if mine had been changed. I inadvertantly turned on the CD, then the radio. I could not make any of it out, but as I became more awake, I realized that my alarm had not gone off at all. I had not snoozed 3 times, only in a dream. Ok, maybe it was a nightmare, but who dreams about their alarm clock waking them up? Apparently I do. This whole thing must be more stressful than even I realized.

Wordless Wednesday

(Copied from Heth piled under the laundry.)





(More Wordless Wednesdays at 5 minutes for mom)

A Good Friend

Have you ever used this great little product? It was my best friend in each of my pregnancies. It coats your insides to keep heartburn away. I drank it out of a little plastic medicine cup. Immediately afterwards I would rinse it and place it in the dishwasher. But in taking out the clean dishes I would find the little cup still coated with this magical substance and I'd scrub it again. I knew it was powerful stuff if it could withstand that level of cleaning, imagine how nicely it must coat my stomach.

Sunday night Sarabeth wasn't feeeling well. She'd performed the last night of her high school play "The Philadelphia Story." (She also learned she was allergic to stage makeup, but that is another post.) I decided what she needed was this lovely medicine to soothe and protect her insides, so poured her out a little cup. Upon returning to the kitchen, though, the bottle had disappeared. Oh my! I found an empty bottle next to a huge puddle of soft green liquid, seeping into and coating the wooden floor. Walking from the puddle were white/green, perfect little foot prints atop my dark red carpet. Oh it was sort of Christmasy, it would have made a lovely stamped wrapping paper. The sticky steps wound around the corner, through the living room, along the dining room, and back to the bedroom. Ah, my entire upstairs was decorated in soft green footprint motif. Knowing how great this product coats I will be enjoying this picture for quite some time. Never again will I buy a bottle of this minty fresh goo.

Text Message

Last week I received this text message:

Hey ma. Just wanted to say hi and i love you!

Aren't text messages the best? This one was sent by my favorite son. (Yes, I know I only have one, but he's still my favorite one.) Does it get any better than this? Actually it does. I thanked him for such a sweet message and he wrote back:

Well you were on my mind and i wanted you to know how much i appreciate you on a daily basis

Did I mention how much I love text messaging? (Thanks Christopher-YOU are the best!)

First Date

Her head was pounding, she could barely swallow her throat was so sore. What was she thinking when she agreed to meet him for dinner? Partly she was curious. He seemed like a decent guy. She passed on the lunch invitation in his plane. She did not have that kind of time and wouldn't have been able to take off of work. If she'd gone on a weekend it would have robbed her of time spent with her daughter. No, meeting on her way home from work was about the only option and it wouldn't cost any extra for the extended childcare. If only she hadn't felt so lousy.

She pulled her car into the parking lot and looked around. He said he'd be in a white BMW. He was already there. She should have brought a change of clothes and freshened up a bit. In spite of wearing an apron, she'd spilled coffee on her pants. Her nose was stuffy and she couldn't tell, but figured she was wearing the scent of fried foods and cigarette smoke. He got out of his car when she pulled up. Darn! No time to even put on lip gloss or check her hair in the mirror. He was walking towards her.

He greeted her warmly, as if she'd just spent the last hour puttin on her best. She was glad the restaurant wasn't well lit. Maybe he wouldn't notice too much. She quickly took her seat as the hostess handed her a menu.

"Can I get you something to drink?" It felt a bit strange being on the other side of an order.

"Yes, could I have a glass of peach brandy?" She was hoping it would numb her aching throat.

"And for you sir?" The waitress turned to him.

"No thanks. I don't drink."

Stupid! It hadn't even occured to her that he might not drink. She was used to her husband who not only smoked and drank, but used drugs also. She wanted to say that normally she didn't drink but was only having the brandy because of her sore throat. But truthfully, she had been drinking lately. It took the edge off of her stress. She mumbled something about her sore throat and the brandy, but felt foolish. He seemed to have so much class.

They sat there making small talk. Her brandy arrived. It went down pretty smooth. Maybe she had been drinking too much. After a bit her throat was definately feeling a bit of numbness. In fact, it was feeling so much better, she thought she might be able to smoke a cigarette. There was a lull in the conversation, so she reached down into her purse to retrieve her smokes.

"Oooh, I hate that," he said looking across the room.

Turning her head that direction while still leaning over she asked, "what?"

"Women who smoke." Her hand was already moving the package up towards the table. Immediately she threw it back into her purse, but she'd already placed her lighter in her other hand. She sat upright.

"You don't smoke, do you?" he queried.

"Uh, no...well," she felt very sheepish. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was just reaching for my cigarettes when you said that." She laughed out loud. She didn't know what else to do. She certainly wasn't making a very good impression. When she got nervous she laughed-even at very inappropriate times.

"What's so funny?" He wanted to know. She wished she'd never agreed to this meeting. She hadn't always been this way. Nobody in her family smoked or drank. She'd only started because she'd been around it so much in her marriage. He on the other hand was thinking she was laughing at him because he was such a nerd. He'd never so much as tried a cigarette and wasn't even remotely interested in drinking and making a fool of himself.

The rest of the evening is just a blur. And that is how my first date with Michael began.

Down

I hope to be back up and blogging in a more regular, timely fashion. Somehow I managed to be under-the-weather. My brain is only functioning as far as being able to grab a box of tissues, along with some cold medicine, and prop my body up in a comfortable chair. I've been trying to catch up on reading some blogs, but can hardly manage to bring myself to comment. My brain must seriously be working out, diverting all its energy to healing. It certainly is not in creative mode, or even think intelligently.

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I awoke with a stye on my eye, a cold sore on my lip, and cramps. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I decided to make eggs for breakfast. Then I remembered that the night before I set some frozen chicken not-so-gently, on my glass stove top. It shattered and was going to cost over $500 to fix. So I threw some bagels in the toaster, but somebody left the toaster on high and they burned. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

The men were coming to replace our heater. I was happy because we've already had some cold days. But I forgot to remove everything from the laundry room before they got there. I was still in my pajamas when they arrived. I hate having men working in my house and showering with no hot water.

It was my day to drive the carpool, only I'd made a mistake and it wasn't. I had to take Ethan home, which is a 3 hour drive, unless there is construction on the highway and it takes 4. We sat down to dinner at 6 to eat homemade soup, only it wasn't done. It was still chunky. I would have taken it out of the crockpot and put it on the stove, but what was I thinking? My stove was still broken. We ate the soup anyway, with cold bread. It was going a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I'm going to bed. Tomorrow, I think I'll move to Australia.