Bad Grandma

Not only did Ethan not take his leg braces home with him, but this is what happened to his other pair of shoes.

We All Need Support

Ethan & Christina came over on Saturday. As usual, the first thing he did when he came inside is kick off his shoes. There was one differnce. He was also wearing his braces. Those came off too.

He stayed with me Saturday evening, while Christina had a night out. We played cars, watched a movie and did laundry-Ethan's choice. (I am thankful I remembered to cap everything tightly.) We filled the washer with dirty clothes. When it was full, Ethan insisted on filling the dryer with them too. Made me wish I'd taken the clean clothes out first.

Before he went to bed that night, I set his braces neatly on the bottom shelf, so they'd be easy to find. But when Christina went to leave yesterday, they were no where to be found. She and I searched for over an hour. The clothes hampers, laundry chute, the toy boxes...all of the places he'd been where he might have placed them. I couldn't imagine when they were moved or where. We finally gave up and they left without his braces.

I was frustrated, as I'd been so careful to put them neatly away. This doesn't happen often. I continued wandering around the house trying to imagine what a 6 year old might do with his foot/leg supports. And then I prayed.

"God where are these? I know that YOU know what happened to them." I wondered aloud if he even needed them. Were they doing him any good? Maybe it was good they were lost. "But Lord, it would be nice to know what has happened to them. Would you please help me find them?"

I went into my bedroom & opened the storage closet. There atop my boxes sat the braces. I have no idea why he would put them there & shut the door. But I am thankful that God answers prayer.

(Speaking of prayer, in my sidebar is a link to Terry's blog. His wife Julee is having a biopsy of her breast today.)

A Bad Hair Day/Updated

Maybe he is more observant than I thought. Or maybe not. Michael was perusing my blog and the photos from yesterday's post. He noticed something "strange." So he asked me about it.

"When did your dad begin parting his hair on the other side?"

"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

He went on to point out that in the older photos his hair was parted on the left, but the newest one it is on the right.

Do men really care or notice these things? (I think I could come home with my hair blue and it would be awhile before he noticed.)

I surmised that in older pictures, taken with film, the image was possibly flipped. While in newer, digital photos, they were correctly oriented.

We studied more photos. Nope. Michael pointed out that in one photo Dad had a pen in his pocket. He assured me he had it on the left side of his shirt. I argued that my dad is left handed and maybe he put them in his right pocket. My detail-oriented husband noted that his shirt only had one pocket. Men's dress shirts often have only one pocket, I was informed. And that would be on the right. Who knew these things?

So we are waiting for my dad's response. Why would he begin parting his hair on the "wrong" side? As women, we do side parts, middle parts, no parts. Men do not change the side on which they part their hair. Not a man who goes to the barber shop. I've been told.

So Dad, which is it? My last guess is that occassionally the barber parts it incorrectly and cuts it that way. Dad then has to live with it until the next haircut. To me, that would be like having a bad hair day for like a month. Horrors! I would hate that.

I received this response from my dad:

I grew up with my hair being parted on the left side. I never questioned it, that is just the way it was. I don't know if my mother parted it that way because I was left handed and it would be easier or if the crown was more on the left. Anyway, years later after I quit parting my hair and just combed it straight back, I decided to start parting it again. I noticed it didn't seem to part so easily on the left side, but my hair seemed to naturally lay over to the left making it easier to part on the right. I started parting it on the right and have done so ever since. Being left handed, it would be easier to part on the left, but my hair doesn't seem to cooperate. Funny you should bring that up. It has been quite awhile now that I parted it on the right. Can't remember the last time I parted it on the left.

One Week Later

Last Friday we celebrated my parents' 50th wedding anniversary.

I flew into town on Wednesday evening. Friday morning we met at Greg's home and began working feverishly. Greg cleaned and moved furniture. His wife, my sisters, and I decorated & cooked. As we worked, I couldn't help but notice how each one of us gave of our gifts and talents. The creativity & organization was truly amazing. I caught a glimpse of how God gifts His people and by working together we can do awesome things. Everything flowed smoothly and a great time was had by all.

Thank-you Mom & Dad for being the best parents ever. We've gleaned much from your guidance & wisdom in knowing when to speak truth to us and when to step back and give us room to learn from our mistakes.

Your love and generosity extends not only to family, but so many others.

Your faith and commitment have stood strong and set a firm foundation for your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren & future generations.

Your spirit of adventure gives us the courage to journey into deeper waters.

Happy 50th Anniversary Mom & Dad!

I'd share the video I we gave to mom & dad, but it's 12 minutes long. Instead, here are a few photos from it:


November 8, 1958-Mom & Dad's Wedding
(Yes, they were teenagers, 18 & 19)


Mom & Dad 2007

And just for fun, I submit the following:


1975-Me & Dad, My Confirmation



Homecoming 1976, My date, Me, my brother Greg and his wife Kathleen



1976 Mom & I with their first grandbaby, Michael (& yes, those were my silver teeth years)



1978 Me, Dad, and the first grandchild, Michael (and the fancy van conversion dad bought as he neared his 40th birthday)


1989 Me holding Elisabeth, my mom holding Sarabeth the day we had her dedicated, Christina & Christopher


Mom, my sisters Carolyn & Laurie, Me Can you guess the year by the hair and big glasses? (Since I have curly hair, I wasn't sporting the perm look and didn't need glasses, lol.)

Do you hate going to the dentist?

I often hear people complain how much they hate going to the dentist. When asked why, their answer usually suprises me. I expect to hear a horror story of a mad, tooth-yanking dentist with wild eyes and a crazed look. Usually I hear, "I don't like someone having their hands in my mouth," or "I hate it when he scrapes the plaque off my teeth."

Normally I don't mind going to the dentist. Running my tongue over perfectly polished teeth gives me a thrill. But at my most recent dental visit, I fought off tears throughout. Several times the doctor's assistant patted my shoulder in her attempt to comfort me. The funny thing is, I LIKE this dentist.

I don't have a harrowing story to recollect for you, at least not outside of my own imagination.

After this particular visit, I climbed into my car. I told myself "this isn't a big deal, why the tears and emotion?" I found the answer in an old familiar sadness, perched atop my heart. I recognized the message it was transmitting: Forever Changed, never the same. It was as if I'd just received the permanent stamp marked "defective."

Even my beloved dentist had said more than once during this visit, "I wish I had a magic wand to wave, that would take you back to before you had this dental work done. But I don't." I had so hoped he could work a miracle, & change what another dentist had done. But his words told me know he didn't possess that kind of power.

What brought about this wish to go back to before? A crown. Plain and simple, only it wasn't. I suppose I was naive about the true definition of "crown." It actually sounds a bit glorified. I imagined a crowning bit of gold atop my tooth, raising it to the status of royalty. A crowned king. The dentist never explained that to crown my tooth he would attack it with mighty power tools. He would grind it down to a mere nub, cover it up with an imposter tooth causing excruciating, unending pain. Then he would declare it call it a king, er, crown. And that is what he did.

My life isn't the same. I don't like the change. I want my old tooth back. The one that emerged 44 years ago. I've experienced this before.

I remember having the same painful desires from November, 1971. I woke up that cold morning, hoping it had all been a dream. The night before, my siblings and I had created a slick ice slide. Outside our back door stood a long ramp leading to the back yard. Originally built to accomodate a wheelchair, it became a form of amusement to the four of us. We were fascinated to find that a glass of water, when spilled at the top, would freeze before reaching the bottom. We tried larger cups of water. To our amazement, no matter how much water we poured, it froze fast to the cement. We began using buckets. Before long, we had our very own tilted ice rink.

Two at a time, we raced to the bottom of the ramp. This continued until we were shivering cold. My competitive brother challenged me to one final race. Just wanting to go indoors and get warm, I reluctantly agreed.

"On your mark. Get set. Go!"

Down we went. Realizing he was about to lose, Greg swung his arms forward. Using me as a spring board, he shoved ahead to win. My feet slipped beneath me and I fell face forward, leaving my 2 front teeth broken off & stuck in the ice.

An emergency trip to the dentist left me with 2 new teeth. Nobody called them crowns, and they weren't made of gold. When I looked in the mirror the next morning all I saw were shiny silver teeth.


I wanted my old teeth back. The ones I'd had before. I wore sadness. Life would never the be the same. Marked with "forever changed/defective," my smile was stamped shiny and metallic. Forever was 10 long years.

My teeth now sport white fronts, but the silver backs remind me that they are unnatural. The pain of my crowned tooth speaks the same. I want my old tooth back.

I've joined the group that hates going to the dentist.

I'm Back

I didn't think I could do it. I went an entire week without so much as logging on to the computer. It wasn't necessarily by choice. Did you know most airlines now charge $15/each way to check a bag? This coupled with the fact that I don't own a laptop, I managed to do avoid staring at a computer screen for days. My eyes are rested, as are my fingers. I think my elbow feels better too. But gosh, do I feel out of touch. I didn't realize how much time I spend on here.

The last week of October, I did it. It must be contagious. I began playing Christmas music. The very next day, across the street, the neighbors lights showed up. No, they weren't for Halloween. These are most certainly for Christmas. When I arrived home this week, Christmas lights twinkled next door also. It is beginning to look and sound like Christmas. (I wonder if it is too late to decorate for Thanksgiving.)

I had a wonderful time while I was gone, but it is good to be home.

Decision Day

The day has finally arrived. Never have I heard such venomous arguments between people of opposing political sides. Friends, family members, co-workers spewing angry, degrading remarks at one another, because of their particular party persuation. What a show we have put on for the rest of the world in the "United" States of America.

The phrase "United we stand, divided we fall resounds in my ears." Patrick Henry used the phrase in his last public speech, given in March 1799, in which he denounced The Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions. Clasping his hands and waving his body back and forth, Henry declaimed, “Let us trust God, and our better judgment to set us right hereafter. United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” At the end of his oration, Henry fell into the arms of bystanders and was carried almost lifeless into a nearby tavern. Two months afterward he was dead.*

The Kentucky & Virginia Resolutions were written to keep more control at the State Level in order to oppose Federal Laws. Power. Control. Who is in charge of making decisions for the people?

Doesn't seem like much has changed, but I did find the little tidbit of Patrick Henry's demise interesting.

*From Wikipedia

Wordless Wednesday

In case you missed these:

A few more photos:

A New Week

Ah, a brand new week. Normally I don't like Mondays, but today is different. I looked at my calendar and what did I see?

No costumes to create.
No school parties to plan.
No cupcakes to bake, no decorations to make.
Nothing. I have nothing to do.

Honestly, I never thought I'd see this day come. I couldn't imagine it in my wildest (or calmest) dreams. But it is here.

I was warned by older ladies that children grow up in the blink of an eye. It isn't that I didn't believe them. But back then, I didn't have time to blink. It was one of those things that would have to wait. Somewhere along the way, my eyes grew weary & closed. The blink happened.

This week, I will watch moms rush about with their little ones. I will smile. I won't bother to tell them to stop and enjoy the moment. One day down the road, their eyes will momentarily shut. They will glance at the calendar, but it will look different. It will be empty. A smile will spread across their face. Together we will relax and enjoy the memories.

Speaking of Dancing

Christina uploaded a video. I laughed so hard when I saw it. (It's only a minute and 24 seconds.) I asked her why Ethan didn't dance at the wedding. Her response: "He had pockets." Oh yeah, I forgot about the pockets.

Anyone Care To Dance?

In some Christian circles, dancing is controversial. The school associated with my church does not allow the high school to have dances. Kids from over 150 different churches attend. To avoid divisions, they chose to opt out of dance activites. The funny thing is, the church has no problem with dancing during worship services. I know, some reading here might be horrified to think of me moving my feet and (gasp!) dancing during church. But we do. Why not? King David danced before the Lord. His bride mocked him and found herself barren the remainder of her life.

Here are some dancing photos from the wedding:















(I have no idea...)

Thoughts

I'm not sure why. I guess it takes time to digest a big event. Months of planning, preparing, anticipating and then it is over. Every night, before falling asleep, memories of the wedding/rehearsal/reception/brunch, etc. play in my head. When I awaken, it is the same. It has a hold on me, like a favorite book or movie.

I look forward to the return of the newlyweds. There was no time to spend with them after the big event. I want to hear their thoughts, feelings, and such. What moments were most memorable? Moments of joy, stress, tenderness...I want to know how it went for them. Without a doubt, they are reliving every part of their celebration.

At the rehearsal, Michael made a toast to the couple. I wish I'd had a video camera. After reminding Christopher of the longevity of marriages in their family history (we are at 25 years, Lauren's parents 33, my parents are getting ready to celebrate their 50th, Michael's parents their 59th,) he went on to give Christopher a few words of advice. I hope I get this right.

He said to tell his new wife he loves her at least once each day.
Tell her often how beautiful she is.
And lastly, if she sends him to the store, he should get very specific instructions so as not to bring home the wrong thing. (I think I might have forgotten something, but that was the gist of it. Maybe he will comment or someone else whose memory is better.)

Did I post a pic of my girls yet? If not, here they are:
Elisabeth, Hilary, Sarabeth, Christina, & Ethan in the front.

Sadness To Joy

When we arrived at the church, the wedding coordinator gave the girls wrist corsages to wear. She pinned on my corsage, but couldn't find Michael's boutoniere. After searching several times, she began to get worried. The bride & groom had their flowers, as did the groomsmen and bridesmaids. But the father of the groom's boutoniere was missing.

The coordinator opened the remaining corsages and checked the names on each of those. It was then I noticed my mom's corsage. Teary-eyed, I told the woman that my mom and dad could not make it to the wedding. My mom had only gotten out of the hospital on Monday and was unable to make the Thursday flight. I suggested she give my dad's boutoniere to Michael, which she did.
I turned my attention to Ethan. He'd driven over with us. Christina hadn't arrived yet. Looking like a gentleman in his little black suit, I saw Ethan tug on his lapel. He turned, looked quizzically at his grandpa, then peered down at his jacket.

"Ethan wants to wear a flower," one of the girls remarked. About this time, Christina showed up. The coordinator gave her a wrist corsage. Ethan took her hand and pulled. She turned to greet him. He held his jacket lapel out to her. The tears were falling too easily at this point. How could I tell this little boy he didn't have a flower to wear, even though the rest of the men did? His eyes searched the faces of everyone, as if pleading for someone to notice he didn't match.

There sat my mom's unworn corsage. Quickly, it was pinned to his suit. A smile spread across his face. He wore it proudly. We didn't find out until Saturday, that my mom was back in the hospital.

Ethan & The Wedding

We were unsure how Ethan would handle the wedding. He is easily overwhelmed when subjected to large groups of people. Over 300 people were invited to the event.

At the rehearsal, Ethan seemed fascinated by the church. The cathedral ceiling and stained glass windows were new to him.

Christina & Sarabeth were scheduled to light the candles at the beginning of the ceremony. Ethan quickly clasped their hands, ready to go.

Thinking he wasn't up to the task, his grandpa coaxed him to the back of the foyer.

But just as soon as the girls began walking down the aisle, Ethan broke out in huge sobs and shrieks. He did not want him mom going anywhere without him.

The day of the wedding, Christina dressed Ethan in his new suit. When he realized he and his grandpa matched, he was delighted.

At some point he found his pants pocket. His hand remained there the rest of the night.


At the wedding, and at the reception. He eventually realized he had 2 pockets. We never saw his hands again. I picked him up and danced with him. It was a little awkward since he kept both hands securely tucked.

Ethan did amazingly well, even with the crowds of people. During the ceremony, holding hands with his mom and Sarabeth, he marched down the aisle and up the steps to light the candles. I stood in the back with Christopher, waiting to be escorted to my seat. Christopher, filled with emotion, said, "Ah, I'm so glad Ethan went with them." At that moment, Ethan turned towards the audience, wide-eyed with wonderment. Christopher turned away, as tears filled his eyes. "Mom, I don't know how I'm going to get through this." A moment later, both of us teary-eyed walked the aisle together. I took my seat, and the groom stood waiting for his bride.

Wedding Week 1

What a whirlwind of week long wedding events! The happy honeymooners have set sail, cruising in the Caribbean.

Memories were made. Families were merged. The wedding was wonderful.

Love Stories

Mary over at Owlhaven declared October as Love Story month. She is in the midst of sharing her story, as are others like Jenni at One Thing. As I mention this, I am watching an October Love Story unfold. Christopher and Lauren's wedding is THIS FRIDAY! To say this week is busy is a complete understatement. I hope to share more soon, but I may be absent a lot.

In the meantime, I was looking back to when I posted how Michael and I met. Funny, it was at this time of year in 2006 that I shared. October must mysteriously fill the air with feelings of love and marriage. Here are the links to our story:

Toast & Water

First Date

Maybe one of these days I'll finish, and catch up to the time just prior to the toast and water.

Quick Update

My mom might be going home today! The doctor didn't place any stents and believes he can treat her with medication. All of the other tests have come back normal. The only one left is an EEG scheduled for this morning and if all is well, after 9 days confined to the hospital, she will go home.

Mom is typically a vivacious, innovative, very involved, busy person. She works, volunteers, and amidst her creative arts, doesn't have time for boredom. Mom lives life to the fullest. It's been difficult to see her feeling so badly she could hardly do anything the past 2 months.

After the wedding, I just might make another trip to Arizona to spend time with my parents.

I Hate Waiting

I'm sitting here on pins & needles. I hate waiting. My mom is having an angiogram done at this moment. She is 1000 miles away. Mom has been in the hospital for a week now. She has battled "this thing" for nearly 2 months. (Although it might have begun back in May.)

I might have told you that the doctors at another hospital have seen her 6 or 7 times, sending her home with high blood pressure. They diagnosed her as having panic attacks. I didn't believe that for one minute. Something was wrong.

Her own doctors were not treating this serious. They played this shuffle game, passing her back and forth from doctor to doctor as if whatever was going on was not their specialty. That was one of the reasons I went to see her last month. Only I didn't actually ever talk to her primary doctor. She had too many emergencies and passed my mom off to the PA.

This new hospital has been wonderful, running ever test imaginable, but coming up with "normal" on virtually everything. They moved her out of the cardiac unit telling her she didn't have a heart problem. On sort of a whim, her internist ordered a stress test. The cardiologist tried to talk her out of it, saying he didn't think it was necessary.

Last night, the cardiologist came in and told her there was a blockage and he wanted to go in and do an angiogram/possible a stent or whatever was necessary. He was shocked at the stress test. He said every heart test that had been performed on her was perfectly normal. It makes sense now that the other hospital diagnosed her with having anxiety attacks. I've heard that women sometimes present with these type of symptoms when they are having heart problems. They usually have a fatal heart attack because they aren't diagnosed properly.

Ugh! Did I mention how much I hate waiting??? The procedure was supposed to take 1 hour. It has been an hour and a half. Can't someone at least phone and say, "she isn't out yet, we don't know what is taking so long," rather than just leave me, waiting?

Thank-you to all of you who have prayed.

Oh, and the wedding is a week from today. My mom and dad won't make it. I'm so sad.

I've Lost Something

I must be losing my mind, or something. I wrote a post yesterday. It published. Today I see nothing but an empty spot. The funny thing is, the post went something like this:

Have you ever set a timer, heard it go off, & then wondered what in the world it was for?

So if you run across something that looks like a missing piece of a puzzle, send it to me. It must be part of my mind.

Trains & Boy Things

Thomas the Train was at the train museum this weekend. I didn't get a single photo of Thomas, but here are a few I took.

Ethan was excited about the firetruck, but nervous about being put in front of one.

The bus ride from the parking lot might have been his favorite part.


(No, I'm not advertising for Coors.) But look at that Colorado sky!

Grandpa & Ethan on the train.

Ethan & Christina