Snakes

Isn't it crazy how something as simple as a picture can take you back in time?   That's what happened for me this week.  I was skimming through posts on Facebook.  A friend had posted a picture of the snake that had taken shelter under the top of their grill.  It was by all accounts not a big snake.  The colors were pretty.  And in that exact second that I looked at that picture, I shuddered.

I shuddered because I was transported from my current age of 46 back to a time when I was six.  My grandparents had taken me to the zoo in Des Moines.  I loved this place.  There was a water fountain that was shaped like the head of a rhino.  There were big and small animals.  And best of all there were opportunities to interact with some of the smaller animals.  One particular day I had the chance to get to know snakes.  I was excited.  This I remember clearly.  There were probably twenty of us taking part in this hands on experience.

The zoo people told us what to expect.  They asked us to leave some distance between us.  And one by one we all got our very own small snake to hold.  We were instructed as to the best and most respectful way to hold the snakes.  They were smooth and wiggly.  We were having a great time.  And that's when it happened.  A little girl in the row behind me was startled by the snake flicking it's tongue at her.  She dropped her snake and screamed.  And from then on it was like a nasty chain reaction.  Her snake started skimming across the floor.  Up over the sandaled feet of the kid next to her.  Yep, he dropped his snake and screamed, too.

And it went from bad to worse.  In seconds there was pandemonium.  Lots of kids screaming.  Lots of parents and grandparents yanking their kids to safety.  Many little snakes probably looking for a safe place to hide.  The zoo workers were frantically using these grabber devices to catch the terrified snakes.  I was saved by my grandparents and the fear of snakes was instilled in me.

Fast forward to the library when Gracie was about five.  This wonderful veterinarian who rescues injured animals gave a presentation.  He brought with him several of these hurt and healed animals.  One of the animals was a 14 foot python.  Maybe longer.  The vet slowly would weave his way through the aisles of children and parents to let them touch and love these animals.  And here came my chance to show my fearless little woman child that her mama was strong.   I thought about leaving to use the restroom.  Or maybe he would just pass me by.  And then Gracie reached out and touched this enormous snake.  Mama, it's beautiful.  Smooth, too.  As this point I'm hyperventilating inside for sure.  And at the same time trying to appear calm on the outside.  Nodding my head like a fool.  Trying not to open my mouth because we have been told to keep quiet out of respect for the animals.  And if I open my mouth a scream will for sure escape.

And then the vet says in a calm and soothing voice, mom, she did it and so can you.  He continues, I see you are afraid.  The snake is more afraid of you than you are of it.  Not possible, is what I say.  And then he encourages me once again and I touch the snake.  I'm not sure what happened after that.  I think I blacked out.  No I didn't.  It was smooth.  The vet said good job, mom.  You made a good impression on your daughter today.  I said, actually, she made a great impression on me.

Am I over this snake business?  No.  As evidenced by my reaction to the post this week.  But this experience reminded me to take risks and face fears.  As the saying goes, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

Ya Big Tease

Really?  One day it's sunny and smells like spring and the next it's snowing and ten below.  I'm no stranger to weather changes.  It's everywhere.  I am in it every day.  I can't help it.  I have to get from point A to point B.  There's no way around it.  I do not live in some eco-dome that would let me enjoy the 60-70 degree temperatures every day.  Nope.  Not me.

I live right here in the midwest.  The place that has season changes four times a year.  The place where the weather predictors have a lot of wiggle room if you ask me.  I once heard a prediction that went something like this, "today we will have highs in the 50s and lows in the teens.  With winds from the southwest to the northeast ranging from ten to fifty miles an hour.  Seriously?  What a nice job.  Pretty much guaranteed to hit and not miss on that one.

And yet I'll hang on every word spoken by these weather channelers when I wish the weather they are predicting to be true.  Like right now.  When I am so desperately wishing to throw open my windows and smell fresh air.  I cannot wait to sleep with the windows open.  Time to get that winter dust out of my lungs.  Tomorrow is the first day of spring.  Ha.  With highs predicted to be in the upper teens to low twenties.  Yuck.  Spring?  Ya big tease.

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.