Shhhh - It's a Secret

How dumb are we? Wait, don't answer that. I was at the check-out line in the supermarket and started browsing the magazine rack. Each magazine had the word Secret on the front cover. The Secret Live of Celebrities, The Secret To Losing 10 Pounds, The Secret To An Uncluttered Life, The Secret Dual-Life of The Stars, The Design Secret You Need To Know, The Health Secret You Need To Know, The Diet Secret You Need To Know. . . and so on. Don't these magazine editors realize that once they divulge all those secrets, we won't need to buy any more magazines? And really, are these things really secrets? I know all these "secrets" and a few they forgot to mention. Celebrities are messed up; if you eat less you'll lose weight; if you throw stuff away and stop buying new stuff, you'll uncluttered your life; TV personalities live differently than their TV characters; when decorating remember that less is more and (drum roll). . . the big design secret - window treatments (I have to admit I peeked at that one); if you walk more each day you'll be healthier; and if you drink more water while dieting you will lose more weight because you are filling your stomach and flushing out toxins and fat. Hey, maybe I should write a magazine. Would you pay $4.95 for 10 pages of ranting . . . I mean advice?

Empty-Nest

I now know how the term empty-nest really came to be. Empty-nest syndrome is a phrase that was coined by someone to describe the feelings parents feel when their children fly away from the nest, or in other words, leave home. But I have a new understanding of empty-nest. For me, it is an opportunity to empty the nest of all the stuff my kids were holding on to. Heh-heh-heh. No one is here to stop me from throwing out old sneakers and T-shirts and games and toys and empty photo frames with broken glass and old books. My daughter even had a plastic container that was labeled, "Odd game pieces". Guess what folks, I am emptying my nest and it feels pretty good! Good-bye odd game pieces, heck, good-bye odd games. Does anyone really ever play Old Maid? And, not for nothing, but I never liked Candy Land or Shoots and Ladders. Can you say, "boring"? I used to pay the babysitters to play those games with my kids. Now, don't think that I don't miss the little birdies, because Lord knows I do. It's just that it's easier to keep the old nest neat without all the clutter. Less is more. Can I get an Amen? And when the little birds come home, I better not hear a peep out of them over this. . .

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

This is from my daughter's Italy blog. It sounds like something that would happen to me :)

Written by daughter #1:

So let me set the scene for this picture . . . We get dropped off in Verona pretty much right in front of the huge arena (which looks exactly like a smaller version of the Colosseum), where there are multiple characters dressed up in the streets, like angels, pharaohs, and Roman soldiers, who people take pictures with and then are guilted into paying. The boys see the Roman soldiers with their massive pretend swords and armor and recruit me to take pictures for them. They act super dramatic, choking the soldiers and having sword fights and pretending to have their heads chopped off. Then they say to me, "Hey, you go take a picture with them, it will be funny!" and I think, "Why not? I want to have a sword fight too!" But as I walk over I realize that the soldiers do not want to have a sword fight with a young American girl, they want to hug her and kiss her hand and wink at her and make suggestive faces and generally be rude Italian men. And the boys, of course, think that this is hysterical and snap lots of pictures and do nothing to rescue me from the clutches of the lewd Roman soldiers. Hmpf

I Want Details & Hugs

So, my husband took a surprise trip to our son's Military school to see his last home basketball game. I was nervous about how it would go. It seems funny to me that I would be nervous for father and son to see each other considering they have had a wonderful relationship the boy's whole life. But, dads are different than moms. Moms ask questions like, "How do you feel?", "Do you have enough pairs of underwear?", "Is the food good, like mine, I mean, does it taste good?", "Are you getting enough sleep?" Men on the other hand say, "Hello," and basically, that's it. What would they talk about without me? Would my husband find out the important stuff - you know, about the food and the underwear? Would my son offer any information if it weren't asked directly? I debated on giving my husband a list of questions to ask, written on a little white index card. I decided against that. So, when my husband called me 3 hours after he left, at half-time, I asked, anxiously, "How is he? Did he lose any weight? Did he grow? Does he need underwear?" My husband responded in his usual dry manner, "Which question should I answer first?" "Augh, just tell me if he was happy to see you?" "Yes," he said, "he came right over and shook my hand." "Shook your hand!?" I fumed. "Yes, sweetheart, that's what boys in Military school do." And that was about all the details I got. I think I'll go to Wal-Mart tomorrow and get some underwear . . . just in case.

Unexpected Blessings - In The Midst

So, two weeks ago we sent our 16 year old son to Military School. The school is about 3 hours from home. It was (is) a good decision. He has so many opportunities there and this could be the best time of his life. A way for him to cement the future he has always planned for himself. With that being said, it was a very difficult decision and a very sad good-bye. It was never our intention to have our son away from home before college, nor did we expect to be empty-nesters yet. However, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry (whatever that really means). So, the day after my husband and I were officially empty-nesters, we got a phone call for my husband to teach a class in Florida for two days. Guess what? We were both free. We made reservations, packed, hopped on a plane, arrived to 75 degree weather, had dinner with our sweet daughter (which went by way too fast - miss you honey), walked the beach, sun bathed, drove to Tampa, my husband had paying work, we met Indian Lake Papa and Mama for dinner (which also went by way too fast), a little more work and now we're heading home. I am humbled by the continuous provisions from God . . . the unexpected blessings . . . in the midst of this life - adapted.

Cat Adoption Highlights (is lowlights a word?)

For sure, this cat adoption project has been interesting. I made a commitment and you all know what our mamas taught us about commitments, you follow them through. Can't you just hear your mama's voice? "Well, you shouldn't have said yes if you weren't sure, but since you did, you have to see it through." Augh! yes, mommy. Here are a few highlights from my "commitment."
- I sorely failed at witnessing Christ to 2 people I knew needed it
- I began witnessing to Sylvia, but she and her husband are already believers, in fact, they adopted a cat with a fatal illness because of their Christ like spirit
- I should have witnessed to my co-workers because at least 3 of them took credit for cats that I adopted and thus stole my commission
- I complained because the shelter gave me the ugliest, oldest, fattest cat they had to show at an adoption. This cat, "Beefy," had jaw surgery so his mouth doesn't close, he has a runny eye, he's 15 and he sat in the corner of the crate shaking with fear
- I almost talked this man into adopting Beefy, but then he told me how his wife died, then his dog died and he wasn't sure he was ready yet. They died 15 years ago. I told him he wasn't ready for Beefy.
- I cried with a woman who had just dropped off her son at Basic Training and promised to pray for him, Joe
- I talked to a woman who lost her husband to cancer a few months ago. She has 9 cats and each one has a "unique" story (unique meaning very long), I listened to every story
- And the final insult, I asked my husband to come with me (which he did) and he got a man who wants to meet him at the shelter to look at cats together - go figure!
Mommy, can I quit yet?

Ciao Little Bird

After a very long ordeal, my bird got to her new nest away from home - Italy! She proved herself a strong and able traveler. When one route was closed, she flew another one. She did it all by herself, just like she's been begging to do since she was 2. I can hear her little high pitched, stuttering voice in my head, "M-m-m-mommy, me do!" She's always been determined to do things on her own, in her own way. When she was 5 she didn't like to be watched when she painted. So one morning she got up really early and painted a picture. I got up to find she had dragged a chair to the sink so she could wash the brushes. The first thing I noticed was how precariously she was standing on the chair over the sink, then I noticed the spilled paint, then I noticed she hadn't put on her smock so her clothes were covered in washable (not) paint, then I noticed the paint in her hair. And just before I could speak, I noticed the picture she painted, a girl and her mother picking flowers. Finally, I noticed, above all, was that my little bird was grinning from ear to ear, proud of her accomplishment, awaiting my applause. "Good job, honey," I said, in my best motherese, smiling, resisting the urge to clean up for her, "I'm going back to bed. Wake me up when you're all done." And so, 16 years later when she got delayed and stuck at the airport and she re-routed her flight, I said to her, "Good job, honey. I'm going back to bed. Call me when you're all done." To myself, I said, "Ciao little bird."