Menopause Much?

Conversation with the husband:
"I made hotel reservations," he said.
"Why?"
"So we could get away together, to be alone without the kids."
"But, I like the kids."
"Don't you like me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you got me a tea kettle that doesn't whistle."
"I didn't know it didn't whistle."
"Did you think to look?"
"No, but why does it have to whistle?"
"Because, I forget I put water on and if it doesn't whistle I may burn the house down."
"So, you won't go away with me because the tea kettle doesn't whistle?"
"No . . . .well, yes."
"But the hotel has a hot tub."
"You wouldn't catch me dead in a bathing suit right now. In fact, if I die, shred my bathing suit lest someone find it and think it's a hot air balloon."
"So, you don't want to go away with me because you don't want to put on your bathing suit?"
"No . . . well, yes."
"Should I cancel the reservations?"
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. YES!!"
"Are those hormones I see shooting out of your ears?"
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.................."

Christmas Day Quotes

Son to mother - "The camera only holds a charge for about 10 minutes."
Mother to son - "That's okay, because it'll only take you 1 minute to open your one present."
Son - "Ha, ha, ha. Wait, you're kidding, right?"

"Thanks! Wait, what is it?"
"Stop filming me and help me get this glass ornament out of Bart's mouth!"
"You mean, they're not Broadway tickets?"
"No, really, I've always wanted a . . . . . wait, what is it?"
"I think it's a cat toy."
"Can someone hold the tree while I get the dog untangled from the lights?"
"HE'S EATING IT!"
"So, what, exactly, about me screams out rhinestones??"

Daughter to mother - "How did you know I wanted this??!!"
Mother to daughter - "You wrote it down on a list and emailed it to me . . . . . twice."
Daughter - "You're brilliant."
Mother - "I know."

And finally, "Boy, am I glad that's done!"

7 Pounds

I'm not talking about the movie, though I do want to see it. I'm talking about 7 pounds of butter. You see, I was at Shop Rite (which we affectionately call Hop Rite because the lights in the S are never working) and I needed to buy butter for a Christmas recipe. I went over and pondered the different butters - salted, unsalted, name brand, store brand, organic, not organic. . . I guess it doesn't really matter because that 7 pounds I wanted to lose by Christmas (er. . . New Year's) would not disappear eating recipes of the sorts I was planning on making. I looked at that butter and stacked 7 one pound boxes on top of each other. I looked some more and put them in a circle. I looked some more, thinking to myself it is no wonder I can't zip up my jeans with 7 pounds of butter (28 sticks to be exact) floating around my middle, rear and hips. I put 2 stacks of 3 and one balanced on top and was still pondering when a woman came over and asked if she could take one. I replied,"Sure, it'll look better on you than on me." To which she replied, "I beg your pardon?" To which I replied, "You see, those 7 boxes of butter represent the 7 pounds I wanted to lose by Christmas...er...New Year's, so, go ahead and take the butter, I'm skipping this recipe." I felt good as I stood there looking at these 6 boxes, feeling a sort of victory over them. The woman who had taken the top box was gone, but then she came back. She put the butter back on it's spot on top of the 6 others and said, "Actually, it would look better on you. Merry Christmas." Now what do you suppose she meant by that???

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Ice Packs

After my daughter's surgery, her sweet little face wasn't so little anymore. Her face swelled up from the removal of her wisdom teeth. So, I made her some ice packs out of old tube socks. They say, "Happy Socks" "For Unhappy Sockets" My daughter was very amused, but then again, the pain meds make everything amusing....................

On Wisdom Teeth

My daughter had her wisdom teeth removed yesterday. I have many friends who have had children's wisdom teeth removed and they assured me there was nothing to worry about. But, you see, this is my daughter, my first born, my child who was having their wisdom teeth removed. It's different when it's your child. I think I handled it well . . . . well, except for maybe the part when the nurse asked my daughter if she were on birth control and I jumped in and told her my daughter is "not that kind of girl!" And maybe when she asked if she drank alcohol, I may have been a little quick to answer (my daughter calmly looked up at me and said, "Mom, I can answer my own questions." Ouch) It wasn't until the doctor came to take my daughter away that I was a tad bit overboard. It happened all so fast, the nurse and the doctor wanting to take my daughter and drug her up and cut her up, sawing away a part of my precious daughter's body . . . .

"Take my wisdom teeth Dr. B, please, if you must have wisdom teeth, take mine, just don't hurt my baby!"
"Mrs. L", Dr. B said calmly, "you don't have any wisdom teeth."
"Take my molars, then," I shouted. . . .

. . . we both did well, after all is said and done. But next time one of my children need surgery, Dad is going to take them.

Be Ever So Blessed

What we learned in the year 2008:

A puppy, a Pop-Pop and wrapping paper cannot co-exist.
"No-Fail Fudge" isn't.
14 year old boys and puppies act very much alike.
After 22 years in the same house, the husband can always find the hidden chocolate, but not the milk.
Puppy gates and stockings cannot co-exist.
Never take Pop-Pop too far from a bathroom.
Egg babies crack under pressure.

What God taught us:

Family vacations are essential, no matter what age your children are.
"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

Finally:

We wish all of you a joyous Christmas, filled with traditions, new and old. May God touch your life in a very special way as you join others in worship and friendship in celebration of Jesus' birth. Be at peace and be ever so blessed.

So, everybody get a bottle of . . . this stuff

Does Christmas shopping leave you feeling tired? Try some I Love Lucy!

Pregnant Goats and Christmas

Some years back my husband and I decided we wanted to simplify Christmas. With encouragement from a friend, we sent a letter to family members stating we no longer wanted to exchange gifts, but instead we would make a donation to a special cause in their names. The first year we bought a pregnant goat in the name of our family members (now, how many people can say that!). It was our desire to give our children the gift of giving. Telling them that they were going to give a family in a poor community a pregnant goat was exciting. We didn't know what to expect. Would they whine about the lost gifts? Would they miss the opening of presents? Would they feel deprived? No way!! They embraced the idea whole-heartedly!! They even carried the idea over to their birthdays and collected donations for various organizations instead of receiving gifts. All three of our children are happy givers, never once feeling deprived. In fact, they feel privileged, blessed and rich in their souls.

May you all be blessed this Christmas season!

Egg-zactly

My 16 year old has a project for health. Egg babies. Ridiculous, I know, but it's for a grade. And just her luck, she had twins. She's being a sport about it. She named them Rodgers and Hammerstein. And being the diverse person that she is, she selected pretty brown eggs. One had a small crack in it, which happened while hard boiling them, and she told her teacher it was born with a birth defect. She sealed the crack with glue - performing delicate brain surgery she said- to save her baby's life. You have to love those smiley faces and googly eyes on them. She told her teacher that she preferred to have them in day care because she felt high school was not an appropriate place for little babies - he said, "No." She suggested the possibility of homeschooling them - he said, "No." She said she had a babysitter for them - he said, "No." She said he was making them cry - he said, "Sit down." She said, "Okay." She told her friends at lunch that they were sleeping and to leave them alone - they said, "They don't look like they're sleeping." She said, "Shut-up."

My daughter is a good egg and she cracks me up . . . . sorry, I couldn't resist . . . .

Love Ya

My poor husband. He gets very little mention in my blog. It's not because of any lacking on his part. He's this great guy and I love him to pieces (what exactly does that mean, to love someone to pieces??). It's just that he's so low maintenance. Don't get me wrong, any relationship worth it's salt (what exactly does that mean, worth it's salt??) takes work. We just work really well together and love doing it - it doesn't necessarily feel like work. In fact, it's fun going through life with him. He's funny, he's intelligent, he loves my cooking (key point), he's an amazing father, he's generous and he's low maintenance (did I mention that twice??). Every December he announces to the family, "Don't get me anything for Christmas. I don't need anything. I've got all I need." And the funny thing is, is that he's the one who is the most deserving of Christmas gifts. We were in Wal-Mart once and he was cracking corny jokes and the lady behind the register said, "You're husband is funny. I bet he's fun to live with." At the time I was somewhat frazzled and responded something like, "Oh, yeah, he's a laugh riot. We just sit around all day laughing - ha-ha-ha. . . . ." But, truth be told, he does make me laugh and I love to laugh. So, here's a shout out to my husband . . . I love ya!

Who Are You?

"I don’t care what people think. I don’t care if I fit in. I care about who I am. If I do something wrong and not a single person finds out, it’s still a part of who I am. I believe that it is a challenge to be the same person in the privacy of your heart as you are in the light of the world."

Wow! My 16 year old daughter wrote that. She is the most authentic person I know. She challenges me to be real. So, I'm in my kitchen, cooking, as I do much of the time, in silence (I never have a TV on, seldom do I listen to the radio, once in a while I'll listen to an Ella Fitzgerald or a Third Day CD,) I'm thinking about what she said . . . who am I in the privacy of my heart (or kitchen) . . . sadly, in the privacy of my kitchen, when no one is here, I am Rachel Ray. Yes, folks, I talk to an unseen audience, giving them my secret cooking tips. . . . . . .

For real, if I'm really being honest (thanks K for teaching the honesty lesson in Bible study) I am a mother who is hopelessly proud of her children. In the light of the world and in the privacy of my heart I am the mother of children who drive me crazy, but whom I love dearly.

Yawn

This is Bart. He's a little tired. Why? I don't know. He's not the one running around cleaning up pee and poop day and night. He gets carried up and down the stairs. We run around the yard trying to get him to chase us and he just sits there, yawning. He's just 7 weeks old and a tiny little thing. I don't know how he'll ever grow up because he pees and poops out twice what he takes in. Again, I must ask myself the question I ask myself so often, "What was I thinking??"

Invisible My Foot

There are these beautiful emails circulating about the "Invisible Mother." They are very well put and are very emotional. We (Moms) are compared to the great cathedrals of Europe, how the builders themselves never got to see the completed structure in all its beauty. Moms are just invisible beings, building the lives of their children into beautiful structures and God sees all we do, even if the children don't. . . .ho-hummmmmmmmmmmm

Here is my little rant. Children who think their moms are just invisible beings with hands and feet that own a mini-van are severely mistaken. As in all things there needs to be balance and boundaries. I don't want my children going around saying things like, "My mom works day and night for my family!" However, a simple thank you and recognition once in a while is not only appreciated, it's expected. Invisible Moms are creating an "entitlement generation." I do not want my children thinking all the work done on their behalf is without effort and that they are entitled to it. And I know that my reward is really in Heaven and all the things I do, I do to honor God. But I am not invisible. (Let's face it, it would be really hard to make a woman who is almost 5'7" and over 150 pounds, with loud-mouth Polish and Italian ancestry invisible, but now I digress.) I want my children to know that I love them enough to climb the highest mountain for them and cross the widest river for them, but I draw the line at their bedrooms, they've got to clean them themselves! And even if my children don't thank me someday, I know their spouses will. . . .

Etc. etc. etc.

Now that my daughter is at college, I can write stories about her that she can't delete. Heh -heh-heh. . .

When my kids were young we read a lot!! We went to the library weekly and took out 10 books each (the maximum allowed,) and we belonged to a children's book club and received new books monthly. We went to story hour at the library every Friday morning. We read all kinds of stories and poetry, children's books and novellas. We were, however, discretionary. There were books about a certain bear family that I refused to read to the children. The father bear was an idiot and always doing something stupid. He was lazy, ate too much, never helped in the kitchen, forgot to take out the garbage and watched too much TV. I said, "Uh-uh, no way are we reading these books; he's a poor example. . . etc. etc. etc."

So, one Friday morning we went to the library for story hour. I had my youngest in an infant seat, my middle child with her "dolla" and my oldest, with her books and markers and pads (to take notes I guess?) 1, 3, and 5 years old. The presenter got up and said, "We are reading some ***** Bear books today!" My 5 year old stands up and announces in a too high voice, "We don't read those books because my mother said the father is a boob!" It's always in the "etc. etc. etc." that I get myself in trouble................

Bart

Do you like the name Bartholomew? Bart for short? Bartholomew is credited with saying only three things in the Bible. First, he said to Philip, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (ahh, yeah) Then he said to Jesus, "How do You know me?" And then he said, "You are the Son of God! The King of Israel!" That's it. He was one of the 12 Apostles and was martyred for his faith. Jesus said to him, "In you there is no deceit!" Are you warming up to the name? I am and really that's a good thing because Bart is the name of our next Seeing Eye puppy!! He's not due to be released until Thanksgiving morning, but we are getting him on Tuesday. Since the Seeing Eye NEVER releases a puppy before it's time, my son is convinced he is a trouble-maker and The Seeing Eye is releasing him to us early just to get rid of him. Me, I think they trust my son. His first puppy went home with his new owner last Saturday, a blind man from Georgia. They made it home in time for Thanksgiving - how apropos. As for Bart, I can't wait to meet him. I hope he is like Bartholomew of the Bible, a puppy of a very few words................

Good Mother?

So, I picked up my daughter from college and brought her home with 2 of her friends this weekend. I had these great plans of bringing them fresh baked goods for the car ride home and making home-made pizza for dinner when we got home. I planned on setting up clean towels with little decorated name tents and chocolate mints on their pillows. I planned to buy flavored coffees for their breakfast of homemade pancakes. I planned to vacuum the floors and dust the rooms and bleach the bathrooms and wash the front hallway and spray cinnamon spray all over the house for a beautifully scented atmosphere. But then on Wednesday my Bible study ladies stayed late, my husband went on a business trip, my other daughter was inducted into National Honor Society (way to go honey - but next time be more careful during the candle lighting ceremony), my son had basketball practice, I had a parent-teacher conference (shape up sonny boy), I helped a friend with her disabled husband, made dinner for a friend, took the kids to: youth group, the dentist, school, choir, the diner and the music store, went to a prayer meeting and talked to a friend in need for over an hour on the phone. So, I picked up my daughter and her friends, gave them granola bars for the ride home, stopped by the pizza parlor and shouted to my son to find the extra pillows when we walked into the house, that smelled like nothing at all, with dirty carpets and dull bathrooms. No chocolate mints and the coffee was just Maxwell House regular roast. . . .so, I asked my daughter if she felt like I was neglecting her because I didn't make her home-baked goodies or have a really clean house.

daughter: "Oh Mom, I don't need that, I'm not a baby. I know you love me. You are a great example to me of how we need to help others. God has called you to do these things."

me: *sniff-sniff* "But am I neglecting you??"

daughter: *smile* "nuh-uh."

me: *kiss* "Good. So, you can vacuum the downstairs and do the dishes. Sheesh, do I look like a maid or something.........................

Laugh With Jesus

I love the story in the book of Matthew (14:22-33) where Peter first thinks Jesus is a ghost walking on the sea, then to be sure He is not, Peter orders Jesus to call him to walk on the water with him. Peter walks on the water and because of his fear he begins to sink. Freaked out, Peter cries out, "Lord, save me!"

This is how I picture the rest. Jesus shakes his head, smiling and with a twinkle in his eyes, reaches out his hand and says, "O you of little faith, you're such a knucklehead, why did you doubt?" Sometime later, Peter and Jesus and the guys are hanging out in between miracles. Jesus walks up behind Peter and says, "Boo!" The disciples start to crack up remembering how they thought Jesus was a ghost, Peter gets up and begins to chase after Jesus. They run around for a while, finally coming to a rest, out of breath. Jesus looks at Peter and smiles. They share a very personal moment, with their eyes locked, laughing and smiling . . . . . .

That's what it's all about. Spending time together, building memories, goofing around, poking fun at each other with laughter and joy. When was the last time you laughed with Jesus?

Fall

A rare blessing - me, speechless.

Found My Core

Okay, so I found my core. You want to know how I know? - it's because it's killing me. It hurts when I stand, it hurts when I sit, it hurts when I lay down, it hurts when I drive, it hurts when I laugh and it really hurts when I sneeze. The only time it doesn't hurt is when I'm eating. Go figure.

Note to self: 1 session a day is a good start.

Core What?

I have a problem with my new work out videos. First, the guy on the tape tells me that I can look like the model - I got news for him, no matter what I do I will never look like a tall, skinny, black girl with perky boobs. Not happening. Second, he tells me to use my core - I think my core is made out of jello, either that or it was surgically removed when I had my last C-section 14 years ago. Third, my exercise bands are too short - they don't reach over my head, in fact, they barely reach my shoulders. Forth, he shows a modified version of the exercises for people who can't do the version the models are doing, but what if you can't do the modified version?? Fifth, I understand that you need to work out the major muscle groups, but he's got us working out muscles I didn't know I had. I figure if I haven't used these muscles for my first 49 years of life, I won't need them for the next 49 years. And finally, the background music is irritating. But other than that, it's a fine program.

Note to self: 2 sessions a day is a good start.

10 Minutes

I ordered an exercise tape from an infomercial that promised I would loose weight, feel great and have rock hard abs in just 10 minutes a day. In just 10 minutes a day, you can get a full body workout. Work out every major muscle group in just 10 minutes! You get the idea, you can do it all in just 10 minutes a day. I thought, "I got 10 minutes." I was so excited when it came in the mail that I ran (well, okay, walked) to the DVD player and put my new workout video in. That's when I discovered that each workout session was only 10 minutes, but you needed to do multiple sessions to achieve the rock hard abs and great body they promised. So I figured if doing 3 sessions a day can make me look good, doing 5 sessions would make me look great. My husband said, "take it slow."
"Puhh!"
. . . later that day . . .
I met my husband for coffee. As I walked into the diner he asked, "Are you limping?"
"Puhh!"

Note to self: 3 sessions a day is a good start.

God's Got Flair

So far today, I made muffins, had tea and muffins with a friend, wrote a letter to a teacher, spoke to the leader of CAP, strategized a court hearing for a friend, read a psychology report (good job honey), made plans with a friend to get cheap apples (can't wait J), called a friend's counselor on her behalf, agreed to take on another Seeing Eye puppy, washed the dishes, made the beds, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen sinks, put the shoes away in the front hall (how many shoes do 2 feet really need sweetie?), typed up an updated resume for my husband and am now blogging. It's only 1:35 p.m. But, wait, something is missing . . . too early to do the piano lesson run, too early for choir practice, too early to make dinner . . . what did I miss?? Don't you hate that feeling that you missed something, that something will fall through the cracks . . . .??? Oh yeah, I forgot to give Praise to God for all my blessings. Praise You, Lord, for the many blessings you have poured out onto my family. Thank you for the beautiful fall colors all around us, thank you that we don't live in a black and white world, but a world of color. And thank you for the snow. (Snow!!!!!?????) God, You got flair!

The Intricate Workings Of My Children's Minds - Title by Clever Daughter Number 2

So, I asked my children (the 2 at home) what I should blog about. This is what they said.

"About how I wrote an article for the school newspaper and got censored!"
"The incompetence of our health care system."
"How I want a Bass guitar." Side note: He already owns 2 acoustic guitars (named Chick Magnet and Lindsey), and 2 electric guitars (one named Black Beauty and the other named Baby Cakes) and a trumpet (named Brassy).
"How giant my muscles are."
"The Air Force rocks."
"The lack of patriotism in America."
"My level of coolness."
"My brother is gross."

Folks, pray for me.....................

Please Don't Work

When my oldest daughter was 3 I figured it was good to teach her to say thank you. I hadn't, however, taught her to say please yet. After all, she was only 3. So one day I had some ladies over from the neighborhood. They were all stay-at-home mom's with young children. My 3 year old came over and interrupted my conversation (with a certain "proper" mother) and asked for something without saying please. I was so worried that I would look like I was lacking in my parenting skills that I said, "Honey, what is the magic word?" An expression that I had never particularly liked. Why on earth was I saying this to her? She looked at me puzzled (of course) and for 4 - 5 painful seconds I wondered how she would answer such a ridiculous question. She looked at me so serious and finally answered in a questioning voice, "Abracadabra?" I laughed, gave her what she asked for and made sure I taught her to say please later that night. I said, "Honey, it's proper to say please when you ask for something."

She asked, "Please may I have a pony?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Please don't work."

Pumpkin Soup

I don't like to give too much advice (that's a lie and you know it, but humor me). But, here is a piece of advice everyone should heed. If you ever feel the urge to make pumpkin soup for a soup kitchen - DON'T. These are some of the comments I received regarding the gourmet pumpkin soup I made and served at a local soup kitchen.

"Who made this, Mr. Jack O. Lantern?"
"Is this baby food?"
"I don't eat orange food."
"This looks like baby s***."
"Who puked?"
"What else you got?"
"Thanks lady, but no thanks."
And my personal favorite.
"I'm a vegetarian . . . oh, this is pumpkin? I'm fasting."

No Rejects Here

Here is a picture of the puppy my son raised for 18 months for the Seeing Eye. This is him on his "town walk" with his trainer. We got to watch our puppy (from 20 feet away) while he navigated busy city streets, guiding his trainer with confidence and poise. It was amazing to see this goofy puppy, who we nick-named Reject, ready to do what he was born to do. His parents, grandparents, great-grandparents (and so on) were all Seeing Eye dogs. He comes from a long line of servants to the blind. My son did a fantastic job raising him and training him. He followed all the rules and went to all the meetings. He took his puppy to church and to ball games. He gave his time to teach him all he needed to know. And, now, there is success. The puppy may be matched as soon as next week with a blind person. I'm so proud of my son and the puppy. What an example they are to me. I, too, have a great lineage. I, too, can learn by following the rules. And I, too can have success. God is my ultimate Trainer. And even though most people would call me goofy and nick-name me Reject, there is still hope for me.

Beginning, Middle and . . .End?

I love telling stories (could you guess?). I always try to tell them in order; beginning, middle and end. I have friends that are very sweet, but are bad story tellers. They tell me their stories all mixed up. Sometimes they tell me the end first and mix up all details. "I want details!" I tell them. "Tell me from the beginning and was it raining? What were you wearing? What time was it? What'd you have for lunch?" My husband is horrible at details, too. When I ask him about his day, I really want to know. If his day was 8 hours long, I figure it should take at least an hour to retell it to me. Uh-uh. In 3 minutes flat he could tell me everything. Why am I telling you all this? Because I told you a story and titled the last piece, "The Rest Of The Story - It's all she wrote. . ." buuuut. . . it's not the end. Isn't it just like God to re-write a story? So, here's the thing. Pop-Pop is coming back! I don't know all details yet. It seems he woke up one morning in the nursing home and thought, "I made a BIG mistake." He'll be here next week and he'll be splitting his time between here and the nursing home. The sun is shining, it's about 75 degrees, the wind is blowing just enough to stir the brilliant yellow leaves off my birch tree. I hear people in the neighborhood mowing their lawns and the washing machine running (my daughter is home from college this weekend). We had pork chops and baked sweet potatoes with pumpkin muffins for lunch, and all is right in the world. The . . . End????

Teaching Moments

I'm a mom, a mom of teenagers. Time is short. I feel almost breathless thinking of how much I want to teach my children before they leave home. Did I teach them enough? Did my husband and I prepare them enough to go out into the world?? Will they know all they need to know??? So, is it any wonder I try to use every moment as a teaching moment? This is a typical conversation with my teenagers.

"Honey, if you wash your fork as soon as you are done eating, things won't pile up in the sink and really, it saves time because when you have a sink full of things it actually takes longer to wash everything up."
"Mom, in case you haven't noticed, I am still eating!! Do you not see the food still on my plate?"
"I know, honey, but I just wanted to use this moment as a teaching moment, while you were still sitting still."
"You mean, you wanted to ruin my peaceful meal?"
"No, I mean I wanted to teach you so that when you leave home you won't live like a slob."
"I was going to wash my fork and plate when I was done. But now I don't want to because you told me to."
"See, total rebellion. Is that what I can expect from you?"
"Yes, Mom, I am going to leave my dirty fork on the table, rebel against your rules and run out and try illegal drugs."
"I'm not amused."
"Mom, can I have some water?"
"No, all the glasses are dirty."

Change of Scenery

Kate is a good cat. I'm sorry I misrepresented her in my last blog posting. Really, those things I said were more applicable to Nina. Kate has more instinct than a log. Though Kate really did kill the stink bug, I would never call her a waste of cat flesh and fur. (Are we good now, honey?) But Kate does have her issues. She has CLD or Compulsive Licking Disorder (sorry, honey, we've been hiding this secret for long enough - it's good to talk about it). She licks . . . compulsively. It started with her paws. She licked them raw. Then she started to lick the house (I can't make this stuff up). And finally, she began to lick my husband's arms. Now, you've got to be a really sick cat if you're going to lick a 200 pound man. That's when I took her to the vet. The vet wanted to put Kate on Kitty Prozac. I kid you not. "Uh-uh!" said the 200 pound man. So we changed her diet, gave her more attention and talked very gently to her, even when she was licking 200 pound husband. Poor Kate. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for her. Like . . . a college dormitory? Like . . . the one my daughter is at? Hmmm. Sounds like a plan to me ................

Those Little Stinkers

They're baaaaaaaaaaack. Those little stinkers (no, not my teenagers). Those beady eyed, shield carrying, sticky legged, flying stink bugs. They are the skunk of the insect world and they are in my house. They only smell when you crush them. How very clever of them. If you wash them down your drain or run them through the washing machine, they crawl back out in an hour. First, we had Pop-Pop (oh, how I miss that man) and then we had the unfortunate incident with the mole that died in the wall behind our closet and now we have those stupid stink bugs. We also have a really dumb cat. She isn't a mouser, doesn't know her hat from her glove (don't you love how I cleaned that one up?), doesn't even know she's a cat. She's like a log with fur. I know she can't help it, but when I saw her about to pounce on a stink bug in my kitchen I ran down the hallway, like in slow motion - I couldn't get to her fast enough - I yelled, "Noooooooooooo, Kate, you dumb, stupid, idiotic, moronic, waste of cat flesh and fur, don't kill that stink bug!!!" Guess what? She killed the stink bug. Now my house has a lingering Pop-Pop smell, intermingled with Lysol, dead mole and stink bugs . . . does it get any better than this folks???????????

The Rest Of The Story - It's all she wrote . . .

So Pop-Pop went back to the nursing home. First, they took his money. Second, they took his wallet. Third . . . they took his dignity. And finally, they took his smile, the color from his cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes. What are we to do?!

I understand that every day he looks at a picture we took, Pop-Pop and the kids eating ice cream at an old fashion ice cream stand. The stand owns the cows that supply the milk for the ice cream. They also have goats that you can feed. He looks at the picture and smiles. He sees himself happy and strong and loved. He doesn't say anything, just smiles. Hopefully, for that moment he can taste the butter pecan ice cream and feel the sun and wind on his face and more importantly, feel the love . . . .

. . . .that's what we do, we look at his picture and feel the love. . . . . .

The Rest Of The Story - Part II

"Pop-Pop, are you okay? Can I get you something?"
"I miss my wife."
"Let's invite her over."
"Sure." *smiles*

"Mom, would you like to come over?"
"No."
"Dad misses you."
"Then he can come back."
"To your apartment?"
"No, to the nursing home."
"He doesn't belong in a nursing home. We'll help you. We'll hire someone to help you. We'll do whatever it takes. You can come here. You can be together here. There are options. We can all work together." *pleading*
"No."
"Why???!!!"
No response.

Pop-Pop is crying. He says he's in a dilemma. "What dilemma?" I ask, "you're here, you're happy, you're healthy, you're thriving."
"I love it here. You guys are perfect. This sure is something. I'll never forget it, never, never. . . but I miss my wife. She won't come here - ever - and she won't take me back to the apartment. So I'm going back." *crying*
"TO THE NURSING HOME???"
"Yes."
"I didn't think you were crazy before, but I sure do now! You're nuts!"
"I'm sorry. Jeez, 56 years of marriage and she won't come. I thought she would come. Jeez, you guys are perfect. Really. It's a dilemma. I'm sorry."

Our hearts are broken. Pop-Pop will sacrifice his freedom, his life, for his wife. A wife who doesn't care. I didn't think I could find the words to describe how I felt - but I have words alright - unkind words, bad words. . . *crying*. . . . .to be continued . . . . . .

The Rest Of The Story - Part I

It's time to tell the rest of the story. It's a sad story. It's hard to tell the story because in an attempt to hide some ugly truths, I left facts out of the story of Pop-Pop's move here. Pop-Pop was in a nursing home. There he was very, very sad. He is a man with high intelligence, a great sense of humor and very social. His wife felt she could not (would not) take care of him. He was 2 hours away from us, so our visits were never enough. He asked to be moved out of the nursing home, said he wishes he were dead, there must be someway out. We offered many reasonable solutions, many. We faced harsh criticism at every turn. Finally, Pop-Pop asked, "Can I come and live with you?" "Yes, but what about Grammy?" "She will come and visit, maybe she'll even move up, too." (not a chance) "Are you sure you want to come?" "Yes, please, I won't be much trouble, I'll eat whatever you make, I just do whatever you do, please. But sometimes I fart." *laughter* "So does your grandson, you can sit with him at the dinner table." *more laughter* "Thank you, I promise, I won't be much trouble." "Okay, Dad. We'd love to have you."

That's when the letters and emails started. "He's a sick man. You can't do it. He's weak. I do not support this in anyway. He belongs in a nursing home. He's in the best possible place. He's got dementia. I know he says he wishes he were dead, but so does everyone else in the nursing home. He'll be at that nursing home until he dies. Blah, blah, blah . . . ."

Pop-pop thrived here. He gained 5 pounds (after losing 40 at the nursing home), got much steadier on his feet, told jokes, laughed, went to the mall, out for ice cream, church, the diner, Panera Bread . . . he did whatever we did and ate whatever we ate and only farted once at the table. Once he laughed so hard his teeth fell out. He smiled all the time. He said, "I love it here. You guys are perfect. This sure is something. I love my new computer (which he played games on). I'll never forget it, never, never. (why is there sadness in his voice?) . . . to be continued.

Read My Lips

When I was in the 3rd grade at Our Lady Of Mt. Carmel School, my class was in the Christmas play. Our class (all 45 of us!) were to sing the last 3 Christmas Carols. During one of our rehearsals Sister Superior pulled me aside and told me that during the rehearsals it was good to sing out, but on the night of the play I should just move my lips and not sing. I didn't think much of it. When I got home, my Aunt Eleanor was over and I told her and my mother what Sister Superior said. My Aunt Eleanor said, "Honey, during rehearsals you don't have to sing at all, save your voice for the night of the play. I'll be there, but I'll be all the way in the back and I want to be able to hear you. You sing out loud and clear for your Aunt Eleanor, okay?" "Okay." I was a pretty dumb kid, I had no idea that Sister Superior was dissing my voice. So, on the night of the play, I spotted Aunt Eleanor in the back of the auditorium, right under the big clock, and I sang out - loud. There was some pointing and laughter, but as I said, I was a dumb kid so I didn't know then that people were laughing at me. When I figured it out, like 5 years later, I was traumatised. It was a delayed trauma, but a trauma never the less. That's when I began to lip sync. So every once in awhile, when I open my mouth to pretend to sing in church and I hear a beautiful sound, I am confused. But, alas, the sound is coming from my daughter - she sings like an angel. I wonder if Sister Superior can read my lips................

How The House Got Heated

I was freezing last night - okay, not freezing, but cold. I needed a blanket. It was a chilly 50 something during the night and now it's a chilly 60 something during the day. Earlier this week it was a balmy 80 something - my little feetzies are cold (and confused). But it doesn't matter - nothing matters because my daughter is coming home from college this weekend (YAY!). I'm so excited, I baked a cake (if you think this will help mask the smell of a dead mole, a whole can of Lysol and an old man's medicine . . . uh - gas. It won't). Anyway, here is how it went.

I gathered all the ingredients, pre-heated the oven and greased the pan. I mixed the ingredients in perfect measurements (well, define perfect), poured them into the pan and put it in the oven. I baked it to perfection (well, define perfection) and set it on the counter to cool. Then the phone rang, my computer alerted me to an email, my husband asked me to make a call, I ate lunch, I lost my glasses, found my glasses, made lunch for Pop-Pop, took out the garbage, spruced up my daughter's room (well, define spruced up) and started to break a sweat. Boy, it must be getting warmer outside . . . . . . or maybe when I put the cake on the counter I didn't turn off the oven. Ooops. And so, this is how the house got heated.

What's That Smell?

A few days ago we smelled something funky in the hallway. I was kind of thinking it was Pop-Pop because he told me that now that he takes so much medicine and that he is getting old (getting? I say) that he has . . . uh - gas. But after a few hours it started to smell worse. I asked Pop-Pop if needed the bathroom. "No." I asked my son if he needed the bathroom. "No." I asked my husband if he needed the bathroom. "No." Then what is that smell??? After some sniffing around we determined that something must have crawled into the wall behind the closet and died. We (when I say we I mean my husband) sawed a hole in the wall. There we found a dead mole. That mole stunk so bad. I sprayed everything with Lysol. Now everything smells like dead mole and Lysol (and a little like . . . uh - gas). It's a gross combination! We can't do anything to cover up that stink. We just have to wait until the closet airs out. Here's the application. Sometimes we have stink (sin) in our life. We have to sniff out that stink, expose it, air it out and never try to cover it up. Covering it up only makes it smell worse. So, where's the stink in your life?

He's Got Wit

Boy, was I wrong - about being ready that is. I mean how does one ready themselves for the arrival of an almost 82 year old man with a little dementia, but a lot of wit. I've been told that dementia patients become very clever at fooling you into a false sense of "everything is just fine with me, but if you're having a problem maybe you should go see someone." We played tic-tac-toe at the diner while we waited for the food and Pop-Pop wants to keep score and says to my daughter, "What's your name?" She tells him and he writes down an abbreviation of her name. So I asked, "Dad," you know, as a test to assess if he indeed does not know his 16 year old granddaughter's name, "What's her name?" He gives me a concerned look and tells me if I didn't know the name of my daughter after 16 years that maybe I should write it down and put it in my pocketbook. My first instinct is to recite the names of all my children, my cousins, my grade school teachers, my neighbors, my church members and the Gettysburg Address to prove to him that my memory is indeed intact. He smiled - he knew her name but he was too tired to call it from his brain that was a bit weary from the day. He's not hiding his weakness or trying to fool anyone. He was pulling my leg in a subtle joke that showed me I need to lighten up. The subtle joke was remembered and continued 1/2 an hour later when Pop-Pop went into the room we prepared for him and he said with a 'cat that just ate the canary' grin, "Tell that 16 year girl to stay out of my room!! You got that!" Yeah, I get it, I just let a man with mild dementia make sport of me. Dang - he's good. It's the first real laughter we've heard from Pop-Pop in months, so we all laugh and relish in it - even me - I laugh until I cry. And now I'm not so scared tonight as I go to sleep with a baby monitor humming in my ear, listening for any sign of trouble from Pop-Pop from below. His breathing is slow, but strong and his dreaming is deep and calm. And all is right in the world. Amen.

Pop-Pop's Room

This is Pop-Pop's room. This is what we did to set it up. We moved the upstairs furniture downstairs and the downstairs furniture upstairs - don't even ask, just trust me when I say it's a better fit. To our home we added a bed, a dresser, a TV (btw, we had cable TV for exactly 72 hours before the kids fought over the remote and got grounded for 48 hours from the . . . the . . . evil viewing box. I watched a news program that followed the trial of a husband whose wife was "accidentally" shot in the back with a hunting arrow - yeah, the jury didn't buy it either - and an episode of Wife Swap . . . there goes 2 hours of my life that I'll never get back. . .) and soon (tomorrow) we'll add a man. We've added grab bars, lights, curtains, shades, a bookcase and a coffee pot. We washed the windows - inside and out - cleared the yard of all sticks and twigs and debris that could be tripped on. We stocked the kitchen with healthy foods and dusted off the board games. It has been a labor of love and we are ready . . . I think.

He Said, She Said

He said, "Do you want to go by yourself?" She heard, "I don't want to go with you."
She said, "That's not necessarily so." He heard, "Yes, I want to go by myself."
He said, "What time will you be back?" She heard, "I don't care if you take all day."
She said, "Why don't you want to spend time with me - waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?" He said, "Huh???"
She said, "You said you didn't want to be with me and then I said I did want to be with you and then you said stay out as long as you want and I said . . . waaaaaaaaaaaaa."

He said, "Huh??????? Whose conversation is that?" She said, "That's exactly what happened and you don't even care that you hurt my feelings - waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

He said, "Sorry, honey."

She heard that.

Coconuts

When my kids were younger we had this cat - Coconuts. He was a wild stray that was hanging around our house, scrounging through our garbage, peeing on our house (that's what un-neutered males do - male cats, that is). So I trapped him, sent him to the vet, had him neutered, and released him back in our neighborhood. I left food out for him everyday, and during the winter, we made an outdoor hut for him on our front porch. It took three seasons before we could approach Coconuts (named before he was neutered - sorry, it's the truth). When he finally let us pet him, we coaxed him into our house. He found it to be lovely and decided he would stay. He was a good pet. He purred loudly, never scratched the furniture, preferred the great outdoors to the litter box (a small, but appreciated blessing), loved the children and got along great with the 3 other cats in our home. Then one day he developed a tumor which grew in size daily. We knew he would need to have it removed. We prepared the children by telling them that he would be shaved and have an exposed wound that would look gross. We said that even though he would look horrible they needed to love and care for him. He was a good cat and deserved our love and respect. He would have ugly stitches and shaved cats were not very pretty. When I left to pick him up I reminded the children that no matter how he looked, they needed to love him. I walked through the door with Coconuts in his carrier and the children gathered around with wide-eyed terror . . . only to see a 4 inch square of fur gone and 14 neat stitches. "Gee Mom, I thought he'd look worse than that!!" they said in disappointment. So, when I tell them that they will need to help care for Pop-Pop and love him, no matter what, is it any wonder they ignore me?

Resolved - Listen More, Speak Less

For those of you who think my New Year's Resolutions are merely random thoughts (which is all of you) put into poetic form (well, actually nobody thinks that except me), here's a piece of advice from me to you from Jesus via the New King James Version of The Bible:

"But I say to you that for every idle word men may speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment. For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned." Matthew 12:36-37

Friends . . . listen more, speak less . . . .

Gravity

I had a conversation with my husband about creation and evolution and such. He said, "How do evolutionist explain gravity? I mean, you can't see it but you know it's there. If it weren't for gravity we'd all be floating around in space, weightless objects on random paths." Hmmmmm. He's right you know. It's gravity that keeps us grounded. It's gravity that weighs us down. Hmmmmmm. I have a sneaky suspicion that there is a tad bit more gravity in some places than in other places. I even think we have a "pocket" of more gravity right here in our house. You see, when I step on the scale right where it is, it reads a certain weight. But when I slide the scale over about a foot, it reads a different weight, (one I can live with . . . well, almost). So, when I said to my husband, "Ooh, ooh, does that mean I'm not really fat, and really there is just too much gravity?!!" And he responded, "Uhhh, is that a trick question?" I thought . . . smart man........

Don't Look Down

Don't look down. This is my new favorite expression. Don't look down. Keep your eyes on Jesus. Look up! My friend told me she just read that when seniors begin to look down when they walk, because they are in fear of falling, looking down becomes a bad habit. When you look down, you may prevent yourself from stumbling on a stone or a crack in the sidewalk, but you are now in danger of walking into a much bigger object that can cause harm. I love this analogy. When we look down (where Jesus ain't) we are in danger of walking into harmful situations. But if we look up (where Jesus is) we walk right into His Presence, where peace, love, mercy and justice are. My friends, I'm keeping my eyes on Jesus, I'm looking up! Don't look down.

Fighting For Pop-Pop

I never thought it would come to this. Two clashing life-styles at total odds. Offspring at cross-purposes. Brothers unable to agree. And a dear man caught on the brink of understanding it all, but unable to grasp the depth of the situation. I think of the choices my husband and I have made over the past 24 years. Decisions designed to have little stress. Simple possessions that we can easily manage, splurging on adventures instead of property; memories born of time spent together not in memorabilia. This is what my parents taught me. This is what Pop-Pop taught my husband. And this is what we are teaching our children. The lessons well learned and appreciated by us have been lost on others. Not everyone in the "sandwich generation" is willing to be sandwiched, opting instead to let an impersonal institution care for the man who served during WWII, has been a great husband, father, grandfather, uncle, son, neighbor, employee and employer. A little balance issue, a little dementia, a few misplaced words are hardly reasons to institutionalize a man. A nursing home is still an institution, no matter what you call it or how you decorate the hallways or the gardens. A man can get lost there, without even leaving his room.

Change Is Good

Change is good, . . . right? I mean, change is good! The seasons change and it's a good thing, we get to see our world in different stages of growth (and death - uh, sorry). It's just that I've been homeschooling my kids for 7 years and I really, really liked it. It really has been the best time of our life. We had experiences together that were magical. Simple stuff, family stuff, educational stuff, fun stuff. I mean, I always knew I couldn't homeschool the kids forever and that things would change and that change is good (. . .right?) So, it's okay that my daughter is away at college and that my son will go on to the technical school and that my other daughter is at the public (yuck) high school and that Pop-Pop is moving in with us and that we will have to get cable TV for him and that we are changing our family room into a bedroom . . . change is good. The words to The Serenity Prayer come to mind. "Grant to us the serenity of mind to accept that which cannot be changed; the courage to change that which can be changed, and the wisdom to know the one from the other, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen."

Amen!

Be Still

BE STILL AND KNOW

I AM GOD

Smile

This peaceful spot is in Yellowstone National Park. It's the Fire Hole River. The river is fed by springs that boil up out of the ground and run down a winding path. We picnicked here. Us, the wildlife, the peace, the sounds of the river rushing past us. My son had a satisfying meal of hot dogs and marshmallows cooked over an open fire that he built. We sat in the sun with the cool breeze blowing by. Nothing to disturb our well-being. Just at this quiet reflective moment my son let out a burp so loud that we heard car tires squeal to a halt, they thought for sure they had just stumbled upon a wild animal along the river. My son smiled, waved, got his picture taken and all was right in the world.

On Birthdays and Sea Monkeys

For anyone who is unsure that my family is crazy . . . this should clear that up for you. My 49th birthday was Sunday. We were in Ogden, Utah (don't ask) and I woke up in a lovely room surrounded by my wonderful family - free continental breakfast (the staff fills all the food items to "just filled" and it is their goal to keep it like that. Well, my 14 year old son who eats like a stravin' animal had the staff following him around with boxes of food to replace all that he took). Then my family took me to Antelope Island. Ever hear of it? I didn't think so. It's in the north east end of The Great Salt Lake. Us and about 12 others had the same idea of floating in the lake. The lake is so salty that you literately can't sink. I sat on my husband's floating body and he didn't go under. The only thing that survives in the lake are sea monkeys. Yes, folks, for my birthday I floated in the Great Salt Lake with my family, 12 strangers and a billion, gazillion SEA MONKEYS! Another memorable birthday - thanks family.

We are now in Yellowstone and it's magnificent. I am here with the love of my life and our 3 offspring. There is no place I'd rather be and no one I'd rather be with.

Geography Lesson

So, I have travel anxiety. Most people who know me know this, but not everyone believes me or takes me seriously. But the truth of the matter is that I get myself so worked up before I take a trip that I am near hysterics. My poor family puts up with me. . . . .but, wait- if they didn't make such uber plans, I wouldn't get such uber anxiety. I mean, how many of you can say you've been to Craters of The Moon? Or The City of Rocks? Or The Lewis and Clark Caverns? Or The Astoria Column? Or Orifino, Arco, Hagerman Fossil Bed, Baker City, Eblem????? What are we, a bunch of freaks or something? Who goes from New Jersey to WallaWalla just because a second grader says she wants to? Yellowstone, Yosemite, The Bridge of the Gods, The Needles Highway (can you say car sick?!). It's no wonder I get anxious, I live with a bunch of a nuts. . . . . . .well, they are fun to be with and I guess if they left it up to me we'd never leave the state. (Well, that's not entirely true, I do love the Poconos.) So, if you think of it, pray for me, we leave in an hour and sometime tonight we will be in Ogden and then at Hebgen Lake and then rubbing elbows with the elk in Yellowstone. Maybe Jesus will come while we're in Yellowstone and I won't ever have to get back on that plane ;)

Broken Bone Zone

My friend across the street used to work from home. He had an office in the front of his house which gave him a keen view of my front yard and parts of the back yard. He called me one day and said, "M, (that's what he calls me) I love watching your son play. He's a real boy, a boy's boy, a rough and tumble kid who loves dirt and tools (insert Tim The Tool Man grunt). I can see him playing outside sawing and building and climbing and getting dirty. You're a good mom, M. You let him experience the outdoors like a boy should. I really like that kid of yours. Keep up the good work."

I said, "O, (that's what I call him) I kinda' gotta' run. My son's arm is twisted in a funny sort of way. The ladder he built this morning was slippery from the rain and he fell off it. But, hey, thanks for the call."

With some wood, some nails and some paint, my son, with one arm in a cast, made a sign for our front yard. O could see it from his office window. It read, "Broken Bone Zone"

A Simple Request

So, my son was lying on the floor, crying, unable to stand up and the only witness is a four year old. We were away on vacation and had just decided to stay another few days. It was obvious something was seriously wrong with my son's leg. The ER doctors, Dr. Frick and Dr. Frack, didn't have a clue - they were little boys themselves, I asked one of them if he was on solids yet. My husband and the girls were packing up our little cottage and making arrangements for someone to pick them up while I was at the hospital making arrangements for my baby to have surgery. Dr. Frick held my son while Dr. Frack put a crude body cast on him with a bar between his legs. I was not allowed in my son's line of vision because he wanted me to hold him - I could hear him calling out to me - I needed to pray but I had no words. I found the hospital Chapel, a small room with a kneeler and an old wicker flower basket. In the basket were scraps of used paper for prayer requests and a pencil. I picked up a request which read: "A mother is in need of prayer for her son." I bowed my head and prayed for this mother, I didn't know who she was, but I knew a mother's heart, a mother's pain felt for her son. I prayed with all my heart for this woman and her son, asking Jesus to take care of them like only He could. Then I left the Chapel and found Dr. Frick and Dr. Frack waiting for me. The cast was on and set, my son was sleeping and a nurse would help me pick him up, a room was ready for us for the night, the surgery was scheduled for the next day with a specialist, an ambulance was hired for transportation, and did I need anything from the coffee shop. Wow!! I left a chaotic scene and came back to a calm one. Just then a sweet old woman came up to me and hugged me. She told me that she, too, is a mother and that she hoped I didn't mind but she wrote out a simple request for me and left it in the Chapel. So, all those words I poured out for that mother and her son were words I prayed for us and Jesus answered. He took care of us like only He could.

Flying

My son is 14 - and he's a smart kid. He just knows stuff. When he was 2 we watched the summer Olympics while away on vacation. He loved the high dive competition. While I rested and my husband used the bathroom (sorry, honey, it's just the facts) my son was on the bed and must have been thinking about those high divers. He got up and began jumping on the bed, gaining height with each jump . . . and then he dove right off the bed. My daughter, who was 4 at the time, watched in amazement as he did this. You see, he figured out that the Olympic divers used the diving board to spring themselves into the air, to gain height, to give them time and distance to do those amazing dives. Smart, huh? Imagine a 2 year old figuring all this out in his little head. This week my son had an awesome opportunity to fly an airplane. My son . . . in the air . . . at the controls of an airplane. I think he's always loved being "in the air." The plane landed safely and all is right in the world.

By the way, when he was 2, he landed poorly and ended up in a body cast for 8 weeks. The whole concept of landing was way beyond that of a 2 year old..........

Right Again

When my son was 8 we delivered meals for "Meals on Wheels."
This is one of our conversations (6 years ago) as I remember it.
"Mom, can I get a Play Station?"
"No."
"Why? I will pay for it."
"No."
"WHY?"
"Because you are an 8 year old boy and very capable of playing real games. You do not need any sort of virtual reality."
"Huh?"
"You have a very nice back yard, lots of sports equipment, a bike, a shovel, a tool box, an old radio, scrap wood, toys, games and most importantly friends in the neighborhood to play with. You are healthy and strong. Why do you need a Play Station?"
"But Mom."
"Let's deliver this meal to Mr. Williams. You visit with him while I put the meal out."

Poor Mr. Williams, he lost his wife. His children live far away. He can't drive anymore and most of his friends have passed. He had no one in the neighborhood to play with.

Back in the car, "Mom, when can I get a Play Station??!!"
"When you're as old as Mr. Williams."

Today I read that the local nursing home just bought an X-Box and a Wii for the seniors.

I hate to brag, but.......... I was right again...........oh yeah.........

Scratch The Earth, Part II

Part II

Our friend asked, "Will you tell this to your teenagers?"
"Yes, we will."
"I met a man about forty years ago. He always was curious about what I did, but never asked me directly - so I never told him. He knew I was a Christian - but I never told him so. He knew I ministered to others - but never asked me to minister to him. I saw him not too long ago and he told me about some problems he was having. I asked him if I could pray for him. He said 'yes', so I did. When I was done he said, 'You know, I didn't like you when I first met you.' **hearty laughter from all** I scratched the earth forty years ago, and only got to plant a seed now. Build relationships. Scratch the ground. Plant a seed. Tell this to your children."
"Okay, we will."
"Love you guys."
"You know, we didn't like you when we first met you." **more hearty laughter**
"Well, I've always loved you guys." **tears**
"We always loved you too." **more tears and laughter**

Scratch The Earth

Here is a message told to me and my husband by a dear, dear friend of ours who is very sick. I pray I do it justice.

"I have a lot of time to think and pray because I am too sick to do much else. God has shown me many things. One important thing He has shown me and I want to share with you is this: Our best witness for Him is not in quoting scripture, not in shoving a Bible or a tract in someone's hand but in establishing relationships. No, don't beat anyone over the head with your Bible. Saying, 'Here, read this' means nothing, . . . nothing. But if we can talk to someone, build a relationship, that's like scratching the earth. As we grow in our relationships with others, we drop seeds. Then, we sit back and let God do the rest. Sometimes, we get lucky and see the seed grow. All God is asking us to do is scratch the ground and plant a seed. He will tend to the seed, see that it is watered and grow it. Teach this to your teenagers because it is very important to the Kingdom of God. Tell them to have friendships with all sorts of people. Scratch the ground, drop a seed and grow God's Kingdom."

Ridiculous Dialog

"You're ridiculous!"
"No, you're ridiculous!"
"I'm ridiculous?
"Yes, you're ridiculous!"
"I'm not the one who is being ridiculous here!"
"Oh, so you're saying I'm the one being ridiculous?"
"Are you hard of hearing?? You're ridiculous!"
"Wait, why am I ridiculous?"
"I don't know - you started it!"
"I started it?"
"Yes, you started it!"
"Nuh-uhh! You started it!"

Shamefully, this dialog was between an 18 year old girl and her lovely mother. Poor, dear woman, she's a saint.

"She is not!"
"She is too, and get off my blog!"

The Tinkerer

My father was a tinkerer. He had this little workshop in the basement. The room was mostly below ground, with one high rectangular window. The room was always dark, even on the brightest of days. On those bright days you could see every dust particle that floated in the air in the stream of sunlight that came through that window. My father had a bare light bulb that he turned on by screwing it in by hand, turning it off by unscrewing it. He had a soldering tool, a wood burner, old mayonnaise jars filled with nails, screws, nuts and bolts, a saw, a screwdriver, a hammer, some twine, some paint, some turpentine and a vice. He fixed the toaster once, my mother's electric frying pan and the iron. His garage work area consisted of a push mower, a shovel, an electric hedge clipper, a ladder, a bench, scissors and a clipper. He mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, pruned the trees, painted the rocks, and made a pond with an old kitchen sink. He worked 9 - 5 and a few nights a week. He seldom got phone calls, never knew a Home Depot, never had fast food or cable TV. Yet, he was satisfied. What he had was all he needed. His wife, his home, his children, his family and his small set of tools. He tinkered with his tools and he was satisfied. It is not in the amount of possessions you have, but what you do with the ones you do have.

I'm Begging Your Pardon

I have just been on a wild adventure. It was exhausting and exhilarating and intense. I was at it for about 4 hours yesterday and nearly 3 hours the day before. I couldn't do it alone so I took along a dear friend of mine (Thanks L). The stamina, the staying power just to get through has depleted me of all energy. You must be curious as to what we've been up to ..........
I booked my family on a 12 day trip to the northwest using Frequent Flyer miles!! You would think I was asking the airlines to give me a private plane! I needed our card numbers and our pin numbers, I needed to find a flight that had flyer mile seats available (it seems I was able to get us to a destination, but not get us back), then I had to hold the reservation, call a different number to "divide out" mileage, call back to make the reservation a ticket - but guess what? one member of our family didn't have enough mileage, so I needed to transfer mileage and guess what? that cost me $165.00. Then somehow in the 1 hour and 15 minutes that it took me to transfer mileage, the airfare went up and so did the amount of miles needed to get a "free" flight (it cost $30.00 per person to get your free flight). Now I had to pay for one ticket and only get 4 free tickets. After all was said and done, I sat back and excitedly said to my husband, "We're booked for a 12 day trip to Yellowstone National Park and it cost us less than $700.00 to get there!" He said, "Great, do we have good seats?" "WHAT? I DON'T THINK I GOT US SEAT ASSIGNMENTS YET?" This is the short version of my conversations with the airline's satellite office in India.
Airline: "gibberish."
Me: "Are you speaking English?"
Airline: "Si"
Me: click
Airline: (with heavy accent) "My name is Natalie and here I am to help you."
Me: (soft prayer to self) "I need seat assignments for my trip. I have 5 confirmation numbers and I'd like us to sit all together."
Natalie: "We have 23 A,B,C,E & F"
Me: "What happen to D?"
Natalie: "I'm begging your pardon."
Me: "Never mind. How many rows are on the plane?"
Natalie: "23."
Me: "I don't want to be in the last row next to the bathroom and in seats that can't move back."
Natalie: "I can give you 18E and F, 19 A and B and 21 F."
Me: "Are these window, middle or isle seats?:
Natalie: "Yes."
Me: "I'm begging your pardon? I mean, I'll just go online and see if I can do better myself."
Natalie: "I am happy today that I am here to help you and if you need anymore service I am happy to help you again. Have a nice day and thank you for calling me."

I'm so tired - it's a good thing I have a few weeks to recover before our trip...............

Take A Hike

Vacations are important, no matter how short, no matter where to, no matter the weather, no matter what. It's important to step aside from the busyness of our lives and to sit back and observe the world from a resting position. It's just not healthy to be in drive all the time. We need to rest our engines, put it in neutral, cool our jets, put it on the back burner, let it simmer, (you get the idea) or just turn it off. God gives us this example in the first book of the Bible ". . .and He rested on the seventh day from all His work . . ." How do you imagine God rested? Did He sleep? Observe the world He just created? Plan man? Eat? Hike? Swim? Fly a kite? Body surf? Have a party with His peeps (you know, the Holy Spirit, Jesus, the angels)? (Is it a sin to call Jesus and the Holy Spirit peeps?) I like to imagine He went to the beach and quietly observed the seas and then went to the mountains and quietly observed the land. And then I imagine He went and contemplated all He had just created and made plans . . . plans for me and for you, for all His children. Imagine, the Creator of the Universe thought of me and you on the seventh day . . . how cool is that? I love vacations - they give me time to observe the world and contemplate....................

Pay Attention

While chatting with a friend, I discovered that I have changed my way of communicating since I have teenagers. I use strategies rather than just plain talking. I'm thinking that part of this is because of the age we live in, there are just too many distractions, but part of it is dealing with teenagers. I'm not sure how effective this is, or how appropriate it is in all situations, but I think it works . . . and I'll be sure to ask the kids the next time I get their undivided attention. So here it is. As I talk to the kids, I fit everything into a neat little paragraph and I move around a lot, and when I think I'm losing their attention, I charge at them and halt right before slamming into them. If they weren't paying attention to me before this move, they certainly will be more attentive after this. Stamping my feet right next to their bare feet works, too. Oh, and the little air horn - works like a charm. But, as in all things, there is a need for balance and boundaries. I mean, someone who was getting coffee at the Quicky Mart would not be at all happy about being startled by an air horn - nor would be the teenager who works there that has to clean up said coffee - nor would my daughter who claims she's already listening. Me, on the other hand, I'd be thrill from the 3 high five's I'd get on the way out from other moms. I just love all the attention ..............

Texting - Part III

Texting is antisocial. There, I said it. I am not buying the argument that (please read this with a high pitched whine in your voice for the full effect), "I talk to more people now than ever before because it's easier to text someone than it is to call them." Ha - that proves my point!! If you don't have enough social skills to talk to someone in person or over the phone you aren't going to learn any social skills by texting someone. Social skills are a learned behavior that takes self confidence and a certain amount of poise which you cannot learn while texting. Social skills are to be practiced in a variety of situations. Texting friends is not really being social. Yes, it's communication, but on a very primitive level. It requires no finesse (and apparently no spelling or grammar either). Half the fun of interacting with someone is . . . well . . . interacting. Maybe if our teens learn better social skills they will find a spouse and leave home sooner (jk). All I'm saying is that teens are way to connected to their cell phones and this does not mean they are being social. It is really the opposite, they talk less in person and have become less comfortable talking to their peeps in person, opting instead to text each other. This is the end of my tirade, if you don't like it, send me a text - I'm not comfortable with confrontations.

Texting - Part II

Texting is rude - as Jar-Jar Binks would say, "How wude!" The whole "multi-tasking" thing is very disturbing to me. It gives people (when I say people I really mean teenagers) the impression that sharing your attention between two or more tasks is okay. In my book, it's just rude. Whatever happen to "undivided attention?" In most parenting books I read back in the late 80's and early 90's, the advice du jour was to give your children undivided attention (now it's quality time - I'm not digging that either - I got issues). Multi-tasking was a no-no. Listen to your children, set aside whatever it is that you are doing and give your child your attention, make your child feel as though they are more important than any task at hand. I followed that advice - I hung up the phone, I let the dinner simmer, I turned off the TV, the radio, the computer, set the bills aside and never interrupted them. I thought that the pay off was to have the same respect from them. Then along came cell phones and text messaging. I liked the idea of being able to call my child no matter where they were, so I was okay with them having phones (that they paid for, of course). But I didn't realize that the costs (texting while I am speaking) would out weigh the benefits. I mean, I really don't like to quote a Gungan, but "How wude!" I see people (and when I say people, this time I mean people) texting while driving, eating dinner out, shopping, walking the dog, navigating busy sidewalks, in the classroom, in the bathroom, in the post office . . . you get the picture. Ugh, it makes me crazy. This is not multi-tasking, it is just plain rude! Are you listening to me??? I can't tell because your fingers are going at mach speed!!! Why is your pocket vibrating while I am talking to you??? You're grounded, text that!

to be continued...............

Texting - Part I

This is my opinion on text messaging . . . if you are one of the millions of people addicted to texting, please skip this . . . text messaging is bad for your mental health and it makes you stupid. How? Well, if every time a thought pops into your head, you text it to a friend, a spouse, yourself, or everyone in your address book, you give yourself permission not to commit that thought to long term memory. You are training yourself to text it and forget it, thus denying yourself full use of your God-given brain, thus shrinking your brain power, thus making you stupid. You never have to make a "mental note" of anything because you just text it. I know people who frequently text themselves. I mean, if you have a disease and you know your brain is not functioning at full capacity, then I see no problem texting yourself to remember something (like "take your meds"). But, if you are a healthy individual, you are just encouraging poor mental health and stupidity in yourself. And, furthermore, is every thought that pops into your head really worth remembering and sharing?????????????? Plus, how bad is it to forget to defrost that chicken (really, that's what microwaves are for). My kids just think I'm too cheap to get text messaging, but really I'm just being smart.

On Graduation Parties

On Graduation Parties - I think our high school graduates ought to give the parents a party rather than the other way around. It is in my humble opinion that the parents deserve to have a party thrown in their honor. I mean, who drove them to school, picked them up at the bus stop, made the lunches, bought the outfits, helped them study chemistry and mathematics, proof read the papers, prayed over the school, the teachers, the students, sent in pie on pi day and donuts to the secretaries, attended band concerts, choir concerts, awards ceremonies, conferences, plays and class trips, and who, may I ask, pays the taxes? Who homeschooled their senior because she didn't want to go back to public school? Really, what do the kids actually do? Yes, they get up every morning ready for the day. Yes, they do their homework and yes, they attend each and every class. And yes, they pass all their tests and they study for every exam. Yes, they write all their reports and essays and type each one out. And yes, they attend all their practices and performances. Yes, they far exceeded my expectations . . . okay, so a small party may be appropriate for their efforts . . . but 60 people??!! Is that really necessary???

What's For Dinner?

I think my family is under the mistaken impression that I have been diagnosed with a serious illness. Why else would they make dinner three nights in a row? Why else would they give me gifts? Why else would they water the garden without asking? Please don't tell them that the only thing wrong with me is peri-menopause. I mean, how would they know? (It's not like I talk about it or anything!) I don't even care that 2 of the 3 nights we had hot dogs and turkey burgers, I'm just glad not to be the one cooking. Of course, if I were the one cooking, we'd never have hot dogs and hamburgers on the same night. You see, hot dogs are a meal for one night and hamburgers are a meal for another night. But, again, since I'm not doing the meal planning, who cares? I mean, I really don't even care that we didn't have a vegetable for 3 nights or that french fries are loaded with fat. Well, I care a little bit, but I'd be sick to say so, right? Maybe I really am sick and they know something I don't, and maybe I have been diagnosed with some serious illness, and maybe the doctors told them and not me or maybe they just love me .........

Bad Planning

One should never plan to send a daughter to college and end a 7 year period of homeschooling during the wonderful *cough, cough* time of peri-menopause. Can you say mood swings!! emotional outbursts!! food cravings (well, I had to throw that in)!! Seriously, I would not have done a single thing differently, and my kids (though far from perfect) gave me the most perfect gift with the most perfect words, "Mom, you have prepared us for life and showed us how to live like a Christian in the real world. You have taught us by example and we will never forget what you have done for us. No one can ever take that away from us." There was more but I couldn't see from all the tears. Every time I pick up the cards to read them, I cry before I can even start. And I grab a piece of chocolate before I get my tissues. By the time I can really sit down and read these beautiful offerings to me, I'll be sending a second child to college and running off to the Mall for a size 14 pants. No one told me how hard this would be. I remember my mother threw a party when I left for the joy of it all (jk). . .but . . . maybe a party would cheer me up . . . . chocolate cake with chocolate filling and icing of course, brownies, cream puffs, strong coffee and maybe some mint chip ice cream .................... what do ya think?

Frosted

So, I saw this woman I had not seen in a long time. I always suspected that she didn't like me. My suspicions were confirmed when she looked at me and said, "Oh, where do you get your hair frosted?!" Well (!!) everyone knows that I don't frost my hair, if I did, I wouldn't frost it with gray! So, I thought I'd be very clever and I put my hand on my hip (for attitude, you know) and said, "At Creations Unlimited." I was so proud of myself for coming up with such a creative answer. You get it, right? Creations Unlimited (God is our Creator - He is frosting my hair - you know, it's turning gray). She looks at me and says, "Oh, really, who does it?" Now, I'm really annoyed and I have both hands on both hips (more attitude) and I answer, "GOD!" She says, "Oh, Judy does mine . . . er . . . well, gotta run . . . um . . . nice seeing you" and off she dashes. I'm so confused, what did she mean, Judy does mine? So, I get home and tell my daughter what nerve this woman had and she says, "Mom! Creations Unlimited is the name of one of the beauty salons in town!"

Oops..........

Benny - Part IV - The End

One day we noticed that Benny had a tumor on his chest, the next day we found one on his back and the next day we found one on his stomach. We realized that Benny was "not long for this world." Benny was such a good little hamster, always entertaining us with his antics, especially the whole standing on his stumps to spin his exercise wheel with his front paws. We'd be so pleased with him and he knew it, too, because he'd look at us and smile. His tumors were getting bigger and bigger each day. One day, my oldest daughter received a gift in the mail from a friend of hers. The box it came in was so pretty. It was pink and it was just a tiny bit bigger than a hamster. Hmmmm. I took the box and put it right next to Benny's cage. My husband saw it there on Monday. On Thursday, it dawned on him why it was there. He said, "You can't leave that box next to the cage there for Benny to see, it's like bringing a coffin into a sick man's room!!" "Honey, he's a hamster (!!!), he has a brain the size of a poppy seed!" The next day, Benny was gone and I put him in the pink box that sat "hidden" under a towel. He lived a much longer life than anyone expected and taught us much more than we ever thought a little brained creature could. The End.

Benny - Part III

Each month that Benny lived I went back to the pet store where that rude shop keeper was to buy hamster food. I was so smug - so puffed up with pride that Benny was still alive, as if I had something to do with it - I think back now and I cringe at myself. I wanted that hick to know that Benny lived despite his feelings on the matter. On my sixth visit, the shop keeper said to me when I went to the register to pay for the food, "This month's food is on me. You done a good thing." That hick, as I referred to him, was a bigger person than I - he was wrong about Benny, about me and my family being kooks (okay, maybe we are kooks, but not for the reasons he thought!), and about the exercise wheel (more about that in a minute). He was big enough to admit he was wrong and to give us free food to make up for it. It humbled me. We actually developed a repore after that. I am embarrassed that it was he, the simple hick, that made the first gesture. It should have been me, the sophisticated (allow me this exaggeration) lady that claims to be a follower of Christ to make the kind gesture. But, alas, it was not and I have learned from that gentleman. He even took those African Water Frogs off our hands (now that is a story for another time........).

Now for the exercise wheel. No matter how he tried, Benny could not run on the inside of the wheel, but he would stand on his stumps on the outside and use his front paws to spin the wheel. What a hoot! Benny lived for nearly 3 years, then one day. . .

to be continued...................

Benny - Part II

When my son saw the footless hamster for the first time, he asked, "What are you going to call him, Stumpy?" ha-ha-ha When my husband saw the footless hamster for the first time, he asked, "What are you going to call him, Gimpy?" ha-ha-ha (Oooh, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!) My daughter. . .she was not amused. When she went to bed that night, with the hamster settled on her desk, I asked, "What are you going to call him?" She told me she didn't know yet. I asked her again in the morning, and then in the afternoon and then after dinner . . . she didn't know yet. At bedtime that night, I asked her again, "What are you going to call him?" She whined, "Mooooooooooom, I don't know yet, a name is very important." Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone about it. The next day, she announced she had chosen a name - Benny. Benny, after my Uncle Benny who had recently died. It's funny that only now I see this metaphor. Uncle Benny spent the last 5 years of his life in a nursing home, unable to walk, unable to communicate more than a few mere words. We never thought of Uncle Benny as anything less than "whole" and we visited him often. Benny, the hamster that is, was nothing less than "whole" in my daughter's eyes, even though he had no back feet to use in the exercise wheel . . .


to be continued..............

Benny - Part I

So, when my middle daughter was 9 she wanted to get a black bear hamster. We found a pet store that sold them and off we went. She looked at each hamster - ad nauseum - and finally made her selection. We called over the shop keeper and she said, pointing, "That one, please." He said, "Oh, no, sweetie, that one has no back feet. His mother done chewed them off when he was born. He's not long for this world." We had a little conference, she went into the corner of the store and prayed, looked at more hamsters - ad nauseum - and she said, pointing, "That one, please." Now, you all know it was the one without any back feet. In frustration I said, "Honey, can't you just pick out a whole hamster???!!!!" Can you guess which hamster she got?

We went buzzing through the store gathering supplies for this hamster that's "not long for this world." The shop keeper, who by this time thinks we're kooks (and wasn't shy about letting us know he thinks we're kooks) was watching our every move. We went to the register with the hamster's cage, food, food bowl, a hollowed out coconut for him to nest in, a water bottle, bedding and, of course, a hamster exercise wheel. The shop keeper took the wheel off the counter and said, "Sweetie, he ain't gonna be needin' that!" I had to agree with the man, but he didn't have to be so rude about it. "We'll take that wheel, if you don't mind!" I said. "Okay, lady, it's your $10.95!"

When we got home, we set up the cage, the bedding, the food, the coconut, the water bottle and the exercise wheel. That goofy hamster went right to the wheel and his back stumps fell right through the slots because he had no back feet to walk on!

to be continued.............

Hot?

Okay, all the headlines in New Jersey today are about the weather. I mean,what's the big deal? Yes, it's close to 100 degrees outside . . . and yes, that's hot . . . and yes, it's uncomfortable . . . and yes, it's humid . . . HELLO, WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF PERI-MENOPAUSE!! Can you say "Hot Flash"? This is what I say to all you complaining about the weather . . . Toughen up cupcake!

Never Pfft At A Prayer Request

With so many bloggers posting about prayer I thought I'd post this story.

The morning of October 23rd, 2002 I was at a ladies Bible study, my 7 year old son was in the other room with other homeschooled kids. We were taking prayer requests near the end and someone asked for prayer for safety for her trip that weekend to Virginia to visit her sick mother. She was concerned about the sniper who was shooting and killing people driving along the highway. Then, a dear older woman asked that we pray for the sniper, too. "Pfft....." I thought. On the way home my son asked me what a sniper was. I told him. He said, "Pfft, why should we pray for him??" My heart felt sick because my reaction, that of a mature Christian woman, matched the reaction of a 7 year old! I explained that God loves the sniper even though he does not love what the sniper is doing and that Satan must have a hold on his heart. I asked him if he'd pray with me and of course he said yes. This is the prayer we prayed as I remember it.

"Lord, God, Heavenly Father, please help this man to see the error of his ways and come to You. Stop him from hurting anyone else. Put Satan to sleep in his life long enough for You to do Your work. This we pray in Your Holy Name. Amen."

On Friday morning, October 25th, the headlines in the local newspaper read,

"Sniper Captured While Asleep At The Wheel"

Imagine our reaction................

Shhhhh

Whatever you do, don't talk to the x-ray technician who is performing your mammogram. This is how it may go.

technician: "Lean forward, stand up straight, lift your head. . . good."

me: "Ouch........"

technician: "Oh sorry, just a minute."

me: (trying to make small talk to distract myself from the pain) "Nice necklace."

technician: "Oh thanks. My friend, she lives in Chicago, had a jewelery party and I didn't really want to go. But, you know, you have to go and you have to buy something. And the funny thing is I didn't even like this necklace, but it wasn't too expensive so I bought it. And now, whenever I wear it I get so many compliments. Isn't that funny?"

me: "My breast is blue."

5 Kind Things...

I was "tagged" by Robin and asked to answer these questions.

5 kind things I have done for strangers:
1. I once helped an old man find his teeth in the garbage at Burger King.
2. I once gave a drifter my coffee and bagel.
3. I once visited a sick woman in a local nursing home - for a year - she was no longer a stranger.
4. I cook a feast for the homeless at least once a month.
5. I once invited an orphan to spend Christmas with us - that was 22 years ago - he still spends Christmas with us, and Easter, and Thanksgiving, and New Years........................

5 kind things I do for my closest friend, partner or child:
1. I once helped my daughter find her retainer in the garbage at Wendy's.
2. I once gave my friend my coffee and bagel.
3. I once stayed with my friend through her illness.
4. I cook a feast for my family at least once a week.
5. I invite family and friends over for Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, New Years..........

5 kind things I do for myself:
1. I ask for help finding lost things.
2. I accept coffee and bagels from others.
3. I let people visit me when I'm sick.
4. I allow others to cook a feast for me.
5. I accept holiday invitations.

5 things I do for fun:
1. I spend time with my husband.
2. I spend time with my Lord.
3. I spend time with my friends.
4. I spend time with my kids.
5. I spend time blogging about the time I spend with my husband, friends, kids and Jesus :)

Do you see a theme??

And that is all she wrote..............................

:)De, Indian Lake Papa, and Alicia, "Tag, you're it!"

Walk Away Mother

In our recent trip to Florida, we visited a beautiful Japanese Garden. Each step along the path was planned to please and calm the soul. We sat by a rock garden that was meticulously raked, each stone placed to give the impression of water. The only sounds were of our foot steps along the path, the waterfalls and wild bird calls. Each plant was picked for a specific purpose. The gardens were carefully and thoughtfully tended. The garden winds around a lovely lake and a pond filled with birds and eventually to the gift shop. At the gift shop you can purchase typical Japanese items like chop sticks, soy sauce bowls with Japanese designs, jewelery, art, tea sets, etc. One of the tiny tea sets had an inscription of 10 rules to live by for a healthy, balanced life written by a Japanese man thousands of years ago. The first rule was "Listen more, talk less." As I read on, I noticed that each rule is currently or was one of my New Year's Resolution. I called to my husband from across the gift shop (the volume of one's voice was not specifically mentioned in maintaining balance and harmony in life), "Some ancient dude stole my resolutions!!!" My startled daughter quickly came over to me, took the tiny tea cup from my hand and said, "Just walk away Mother..........."