Spring

With the change of time, which I am none too happy about, I know that spring is around the corner.  I know.  I'll love this when it stays lighter out later.  I already did today.  But the loss of one hour hurts.  I woke up so tired on Sunday morning my body really hurt.  I'll adjust.  The spring in my step will return.

It's also a reminder that spring cleaning should take place.  So I started.  With the pantry.  Yep.  An overzealous task for sure.  There were some things in there that shouldn't have been.  Like school supplies and some junk mail.  I have a theory.  We probably had some company drop in.  In a moment of panic I threw what was on the counter into the pantry.  And over time this stuff got shoved further in.
Thank goodness there were no bills in this stack.  This isn't normally how I roll.  But I will stuff and shove when I need to clean fast.

And herein lies the problem.  You see I still love a simplified house.  I'm usually pretty good at keeping it this way.  But there are the times when it is impossible.  Those times when we are so busy that our house feels like a hotel.  Mostly because all we do is sleep here.  Thankfully in the last couple of months we've fallen into a routine.  And now it's time to dig out.

So I started with the pantry.  And my goal is to accomplish a small task each day.  I'd like to do this before spring break.  That way my break time will truly be that.  A time to relax.  I think I have my family on board.  We've purged closets.  If it hasn't been worn in a year, it's gone.  Extra holiday stuff has been sent away.  We still have the basement and garage to do.  And the rest of the kitchen.  So goes my motto.  If you don't love it and you don't use it, it's time to lose it.  Happily springing into action and wishing you the same.

March Came In With A Break

I flipped the calendar over on Friday.  I love a new month.  A fresh start.  And on a Friday. Bonus.  I knew that I would have a nice Friday night with Scott.  And I'd sleep in on Saturday.  I could hardly wait.  Around 10:00 p.m. the text came.  Call me ASAP.  It was from Amy.  I sort of smiled.  I thought that she would be reminding me that her birthday was only two hours away.  She would probably be saying that I only had a couple of hours to talk to her before she turns another year older.  We are sisters.  And yes we're goofy.  Most of the time.

This wasn't one of those times.  I called and she had news for me.  Mom and Dad had been at a dinner party.  Dad went to get the car for mom.  He does that.  It's one of the things I love about him.  While walking to the car he fell and broke his arm.  Some fellow partygoers helped him get to his feet.  He got into the car and sat in the passenger's seat and mom drove him to the emergency room.  It was there that they ruled out any injury to his head, ribs or hip.  Thank goodness.  But he had broken his arm in two places and it was a compound fracture.  That's right.  Bone poking out of skin.  Oh man.  This is bad.

A terrific surgeon was called in.  From 12:30 a.m. to 4:30 a.m. he was in surgery.  A plate and several screws are now a permanent part of my dad.  There was a lot of clean up that needed to be done on dad's arm.  Lots of fragments that needed to be removed.  And of course there is the worry about infection.

So instead of getting together for brunch on Saturday to celebrate my sister's birthday, we gathered at the hospital to be with dad.  Not exactly the venue we had planned on.  But that was about all that was different.  Dad was still chatting it up with hospital staff.  He was talking with the nurses and hamming it up.  We were laughing and joking.  There he was, in bed with stitches from his shoulder to his elbow, and he's asking other people about where they are from.

He's always done that.  Both my mom and dad have always been equally as kind to people they know and love, as they are to people they are just getting to know.  It's who they are.  They are truly interested in others.  They are smart and great listeners.  They are compassionate.  They are funny.   Even in difficult times.  They are authentic, beautiful people.  I couldn't have asked for better role models in life.

So the next six to eight weeks will be different for my mom and dad.  Dad won't be able to dash off for coffee or lunch like he's used to doing.  And mom will be full time nurse.  This will not be easy for either of them.  But I also know that those who love them will be stopping by and calling often.  I know that I'll do what I can.  I know that my sister will be fantastic at helping wherever she is able.  And I know that their grace and humor will ease the pain a little.

This wasn't the fresh start I was anticipating in March.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't the birthday party Amy had planned on either.  But we made the best of it.  And right now I can almost hear it in my head---my dad saying,  them's the breaks!

Picture This

We all have friends and family that we share history with.  And I'd bet that all of you have stories in your past that are hysterically funny.  The kind of story that can rock you to your core with laughter at a  moments notice.  Maybe only a few words need to be spoken.  Sort of code words that will ripple through your group or between two of you and bring tears to your eyes.  In a humorous way.

I have several of these that I share with all sorts of people, but this week one came to mind.  I had just given birth to Gracie.  I think maybe two weeks earlier.  I had set up a vet appointment for our two dogs, Chester and Winston.  And I had made this appointment way before I knew Gracie would be arriving early.  I could have rescheduled, but was thinking that Scott would probably take the dogs in for me.  As luck would have it, he worked overtime and wasn't able to make the appointment.

I was feeling good.  Really good.  After a pregnancy plagued with all sorts of complications, I felt like a million bucks.  I had a gorgeous and healthy baby.  I had lost a ton of my pregnancy weight and I had energy to spare.  My baby slept through the night.  Life was good.  How hard could it be to take the dogs to the vet?

I put Gracie in her car seat.  Made sure I had the diaper bag.  Hooked the dogs up on their leashes and made sure they did what dogs do before they got in the truck.  Off we went.  I was singing with the radio.  It was a sunny October day.  I really couldn't believe how beautiful it was.  It was a short drive to the office and I parked right out front.  I slung the diaper bag over my shoulder and lifted the carseat out by the handle, balancing Gracie in the crook of my left elbow.  To the other side of the truck.  I picked up the leashes and out hopped Chester and then Winston.  My perfect family.

Just as we step up onto the sidewalk the dogs start to pull.  Off to my right a woman has just pulled up in a small car.  To the other side of her car she goes and lets out her dog.  More like a cow or a horse.  I still don't know what it was.  Perhaps a mastiff or something.  Anyway this tiny woman was trying to coax her larger than life animal into the vet's office.  It was not going well for her.  Lots of pulling, grunting and empty promises on her part.  On the other hand, her dog was resisting and rearing back.  The woman looked at me as if to say, could you help?  I thought, really, with a diaper bag, baby and two dogs of my own?  But I did my best.  I said come on buddy, it'll all be over before you know it.  It's not so bad.  I even tried to enlist my own dogs in the process.  Come on boys, I said, let's show this big fella that it's fun to come here.  I am not lying when I write this.  Both my dogs, on hearing this from me, sat down in protest.

So the bull's owner is still pulling and I notice something.  Um, excuse me, I said.  I'm not sure how things are up there for you on the north end, but on the south end we have some action.  The dog was starting to crown.  And I'm right there to bear witness.  Now I should mention that I was never sick a day during my pregnancy.  Like vomiting sick.  I have a stomach of steel.  For real.

But when that dog/bull pooped two steaming turds the size of soda cans, I couldn't help it.  And these  waves of nausea took over my body.  What was I going to do?  It's not like I can move anywhere fast.  There's too much involved.  So with my best aim, I puked into the bushes.  Did I mention this vet's office is on a very busy street and right across the street from a high school track?  Where there were several dozen students running at that exact moment.  An audience.  Terrific.

The look of horror on the bull owner's face was the final stamp on this humiliating moment.  And then she had the nerve to finally get her dog in the door and didn't even mention the remnants on the sidewalk to the receptionist.  Unreal.  So I did.  Not like it could be mistaken for something my dogs left behind.  And then I said with utter embarrassment, when you hose off the sidewalk you might want to spray off  the shrubs, too.  Sorry.

Our appointment went just fine and the dogs, baby and I had a three hour nap when we got home.  The appointment had exhausted us.  This event happened thirteen years ago.  And was randomly brought back to life this week.  Good times.

Too Much Of A Good Thing

I know right off the bat that this post will strike a nerve with some of you.  I'm ok with that.  Because a nerve has  been struck with me.  I think that technology is ruining family life.  There.  I said it.  Computers, cell phones and iDevices are a convenience for sure.  I happen to own them all.  And I'll be the first to say that I enjoy them.  These technological devices are definitely a convenience.

I need my cell phone.  It is the way I clock in and out of work.  It is the way that I stay in touch with my out of town family.  It is the way my husband and daughter are able to reach me in an emergency.  This is where the need ends.  And the dangerous slippery slope of wanting the technology begins.  It has become the norm to use cell phones as communication.  But there are times when this is taken to the extreme.  People are sitting in the same room and text each other.  I saw a couple in a restaurant who sat through lunch never saying a word.  And they both were on their cell phones texting or using the internet the whole time.  Sad.  I actually read about a couple that were in bed and texted each other good night.  Really.

I have been around kids that are absolutely unable to live without their phones.  They literally freak out if they aren't able to respond to the latest Facebook posting.  Kk. Lol.  I kid you not.  I have seen kids almost shake with withdrawal from using their phones.  I live in a house where the television and computers have taken over the living room.  And because of this, conversation has been minimal and feelings are hurt.

I hardly feel that I need to mention the overuse and misuse of the phone in cars.  Accidents happen all of the time because of this recklessness.  I was almost hit the other day while I was walking across the street because someone was texting while driving.  And how many of us are glad to have a distraction for our kids when we need them to be quiet?  I get it.  I've done it myself.  What I don't get is why this has become the norm.  Electronics shouldn't babysit your kids.

I guess what I'm saying is that I've had it.  Enough.  Too much of anything good can be bad.  Just ask my girl.  She has to figure out how to make it through the next twelve hours without her phone.

Been There, Done That

I had a conversation with a friend one day concerning the favorite age of our children.  I said that I couldn't nail that down.  I couldn't choose one age that meant the most to me.  They all do.  Especially the one I'm in.  For obvious reasons.  Because I'm in the moment living it.

In the past month I've had some conversations with Gracie, too.  We have had meaningful, in depth conversations that will always be ours and ours alone.  I cherish the privacy that we afford each other.  The trust between a mom and daughter that will be special to me until the day I die.  But we have also had some talks about how things are different for her than they were for me.

I will grant her this.  Typewriters were the norm for me at age thirteen, not computers.  And cell phones?  Not even a glimmer in my eye.  I was perfectly happy to have a phone cord in the kitchen that I could stretch down the hallway and into my room.  And then I'd shut the door.  This didn't always make my dad happy.  My actions were hard on the phone cords.

But there is so much that is the same.  I felt like a grown woman on the outside, but felt like a kid on the inside.  There were tensions between friends.  Not often, but they did happen.  There were the new feelings that girls and boys have.  I felt like time dragged on because I was impatient.

So here I am, in my upper 40s.  And I would offer this advice to my girl.  There will be a  time in your life that a week will feel like a year.  But all too soon a year will feel like a week.  Enjoy the little relaxed moments.  Hug your mom and dad.  Remember where you came from.  And remember that you are loved more than anything in the world.  This is something I know because I have been there and done that.

Train Of Thought

I was sitting in church on Sunday.  I was listening to the sermon.  Really.  And this adorable baby girl caught my eye.  She must have been about three or four months old.  Her dad had just lifted her out of her car seat.  Maybe it was the fact that she was being held.  Or maybe that she had a new perspective on things.  Whatever it was it made her the happiest baby.  She had dark hair.  Lots of it.  And it stood straight up.  And she smiled.  The kind of smile that melts your heart.  I like to think she was smiling at me.  Who knows?

This made me think of Gracie as a baby in church.  She would coo and smile to anyone around us.  My mom would hold her.  I'm pretty sure that my mom wore bracelets every Sunday to keep Gracie entertained.  Mom and I were almost always in church with Gracie by ourselves.  Dad was there, but up front preaching.  Scott was at home.  Sleeping.  He worked nights.  And I thought of the sweet day that Gracie said the word "conoonya".  What?  I couldn't figure this one out.  I spoke Gracie fluently and this word stumped me.  Until I realized that she was saying the word communion while we were sitting in church.  She wanted to go up to communion to see her Papa.  I love that memory.

This made me remember our life then.  Scott would get home at 6:00 a.m. and play with Gracie for a little bit and head to bed.  Gracie and I would go about our day.  Scott would get up around three.  We would eat early.  As I was cleaning up the kitchen, he would give Gracie a bath and we would read to her and play games with her.  To bed she would go between 6:00 and 6:30.  We would have some time to ourselves before Scott would go to work and the cycle would repeat.

That was a lot of routine back then.  It had to be that way.  I long for those days.  We've been out of routine for a while.  We're getting back into one.  It just takes time.  And willing participants.  The three of us seem to be on board.  I'll let you know how it goes.  And then my thoughts went to a grateful place.  A place that feels very content with my family sitting in church together.    My brain must have been on overdrive during the sermon.  I visited all of these memories in the time it took to listen to a sermon.  And believe it or not, I think I got the message being preached to me, too.  Amazing.  And this train ride all started with the beautiful smile of a baby girl.

Lightening Up

With the new year here I've decided to lighten up.  I know, I know.  This phrase could be taken in so many ways.  That's kind of where I'm going.  In many different directions.

So, I want to lighten up.  This year is going to be a good one.  I know it.  It's going to be less serious.  Full of fun.  Boring even.  This is what I am hoping for.  Yep.  The ordinary and mundane is where I strive to be.  I have had enough of being in the crisis mode.   I am done with letting stress get the best of me.  Of wearing me out and making me tired.  Ha.  Washing my hands of it.

On to another meaning of lightening up.  It's time to do the yearly purge.  I kind of lost track of this last year.  Too busy with the above mentioned stress.  But now that I'm done with that, I'm ready to clean the house out.  All of the old rules apply.  One thing in, one thing out.  Or maybe two?  If it hasn't been used in a year?  See you later.  The 24-hour rule.  I will wait a day to see if I have an urge to buy something.  I'm going to purge starting with the clothes.  And room by room this house will undergo a deep cleansing.  If you stop by you might not even notice this has been done.  But rest assured it has.  Just check out the calm look on my face.  It will be the look of satisfaction and not being ruled by my stuff.

Then there is the third type of lightening up.  My sister is getting married this summer and I need to show up ready to bridesmaid with a healthier body.  No more excuses.  Healthy food and exercise.  I'll keep telling myself that.  Over and over.  I'll keep this simple.  I will eat foods in their natural state.  I will walk extra miles with the dogs.  I will get the sleep I need.   Sounds simple.  I hope it is.

Lightening up is something I am looking forward to.  I will be and have more fun.  I will not allow consumerism to rule my life and retail therapy is over for me.  And last but not least, this is the year of transformation for my overall health and well being.  Here's to a lighter year.  Any way you choose to take it.