Motherhood

Okay, just when I thought there were no more things left for me to get maternally emotional about.....I was wrong. My baby boy is in the bed, with a fever. I am doing what I've done since he was born. I am taking care of him. It occurred to me this may be the last time I'm the one providing this type of care. Soon I will pass the torch to Kenna. She is a bright, capable girl and I know she will do a good job. It is just so difficult to let go.

I posted the above on my Facebook status last night.  My future daughter-in-law commented that she will never be as good as his mother, as that is a special skill that is only mine.  I don't know if she was being honest here, or just trying to make me feel better as she knows I'm struggling with all the changes.  Either way, she said the best, most absolute perfect thing and I love her for it!

Wine

I don't "get" the whole wine "thing."  It's grapes, mashed up, mixed with other grapes, stored in various wood barrels until it ferments.  People devote their lives (well, at least their careers) to mashed up and fermented grapes.

My first exposure to wine came when I reached drinking age.  I would order white wine and got whatever that particular establishment served as their house wine.  I never really liked the taste and quite often would order half wine and half 7-Up.  Then, after the first few sips I would begin to feel tipsy.  A light weight.  A cheap date.  Definitely.  Maybe if I could hold my liquor better, I might have enjoyed it more.  But then there's the issue of the taste.

Perhaps a "fine" wine would be pleasing to my palate.  Perhaps I've cheated myself all these years, by never trying anything but cheap stuff.  That opens up a fresh can of worms though, because spending a lot of money on something you drink does not mesh with my logical side.  How much is a decent bottle of wine, served at home?  I'm going to guess and say $50.00.  Even if I acquired a taste for the better class of wine, I can think of so many more practical things to do with $50.00.  Even if  you drop the wine price to $25.00, that money could buy some cool craft supplies, plants for the yard or be put toward something for the house or a vacation.

Why do I want to spend good money on something that slides down my throat, only to make me want to go to sleep 30 minutes later.  Lastly, more often than not, alcohol does not bring out the best in people.  I was married to an alcoholic and the personality change was stunning.  I don't want to be around someone who has one too many and undergoes even the smallest of personality changes.  Like, they become argumentative, loud, demanding, or unreasonable.  Then there are the physical symptoms.  Drink too much and then throw it all up.  Charming.

I don't enjoy spending time with people who are under the influence.  Even if it's the happy, boisterous kind of under the influence, I think it's obnoxious.  And, inevitably, things are said and done which should not be said or done.

Let me close by saying I'm quite aware there are MANY people who can enjoy a glass or two of wine, either with a meal or alone, and not morph into some kind of monster.  And what people choose to spend their money on is their business.  For me, I don't see the value in fine wine.  I will occasionally spend the afternoon cooking up an authentic Italian meal where a touch of the grape sounds extremely appealing.  For those meals I'll toddle on over to the grocery store and pick up a bottle of sparkling grape cider.  $3.79 and I'm golden.

Candy Corn

Chocolate Rice Krispie treats with candy corn.  Do you like candy corn?

Sleeping Together Is Not Quality Time

I  read a blog post written by a man whose girlfriend hogs the covers, and the entire bed.  So not only does he wake up shivering, he wakes up shivering clinging to the side of the bed.  Yet he, like most people, finds these things FAR preferable to sleeping without his loved one.  He says if you're going to sleep apart, why even get married.  Really?  Really?

My husband and I have known each other 16 years.  We celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary last week.  For the past three years we have slept in separate rooms.  Prior to going to separate rooms, we had two beds in the same room for several years.  The current arrangement allows us each to achieve the goal of quiet, restful, uninterrupted sleep.  Sleeping, or rather, not sleeping together, is NOT quality time.

There are lots of things one person can do to keep another from resting comfortably.  Snoring, the twitching of arms and legs, repositioning themselves with all the coordination of Shamu performing for a crowd. and the passing of gas all rank right up there.  Even with a king size bed, I felt I was sleeping in a war zone.  My dear husband can fall into a deep sleep in under three minutes.  He can also go from that same deep sleep to wide awake and completely alert in 45 seconds.  He can fall asleep anywhere, and if you wake him, he falls BACK to sleep in about a minute.  He's not a sleep cuddler.  He says having someone sleeping against him makes him too hot.

I am the total opposite.  It takes me quite a while to fall asleep, and I need absolute quiet to get there.  Even the sound of a clock ticking is enough to keep me up.  Most nights I ended up on the lumpy couch, seething with resentment, while he laid in our bed, snoring, twitching, flailing and farting.  One of us awoke refreshed in the morning.  And it wasn't me.  According to a counselor I spoke with, this problem is extremely common.  And 95% of the time, it's the woman who ends up being displaced.  I'm all about the man being the head of the household.  But when it comes to sleep, I'll fight to get what I feel is rightfully mine.

Our minds and our bodies cannot function on no sleep, or terribly interrupted sleep.  I spent my days in a sleep-deprived state.  That made me not a lot of fun to live with, but can you blame me?  The turning point came when I found myself standing at the side of the bed, holding the covers up with one hand while the other hand clutched a can of Lysol.  I was seconds away from blasting him when I realized it's not his fault, and he isn't doing it on purpose.  AND, he's a perfectly charming and well mannered gentleman when he's awake.  Shortly after that we went to separate bedrooms.

Our sex life has not suffered, although I do sometimes feel like a one night stand when he puts his pants on and leaves the room.  Both of us sleep well, without interruption from our loved one, and the important time we spend together, i.e., time when we are conscious, is improved because we are both well rested.

But hey, if you want to measure the success of your relationship by the room you sleep in, knock yourself out.  I'm not the one clinging to six inches of the bed, shivering in the winter.

Games Dogs Play

Our Malamute is hands down the most intelligent dog my husband and I have ever had.  He is scary smart.  The kind of dog who we can no longer say the word "car" to.  We began to spell it.  Now he's wise to that.  We are going to use "vehicle" in the future.  I'm sure it won't be long before we have to spell that one too.

He enjoys lounging in the front yard during the wee hours of the morning.  We live at the end of a cul-de-sac and the neighbors actually appreciate having him out there, on guard.  This morning, about 1:00 am I heard him get up from the hall and move to the living room.  I walked out to find him lying by the couch, about 10 feet from the door.  I walked to the door and asked if he wanted the front yard.  Blank stare.  Asked him again.  No reaction.  So I walked back to my room and closed my door.

Not 30 seconds later I heard a loud yip.  Went back to the living room and there he was, standing by the front door, tail wagging.  He does this allllll the time!  And I wonder if he laughs to himself and thinks "stupid human."  It's like it has to be his idea or he doesn't want to do it. 

20 Years Ago Today ~ 9/4/94

20 years ago today the Lord gave me my biggest blessing, and my biggest "job." It was as if He said, "Take this child who I have so clearly set apart for My service, and raise him, train him in the ways that he should go." The early years are still fresh in my memory. The days when Christian school tuition was cobbled together each month, sometimes with the help of family members, sometimes by collecting and returning cans. God was always faithful and made a way for Jacob.

I remain as humbled and in awe today, of the fact God gave such a child to a sinner like me, as I was when a five year old Jacob was approaching strangers and asking, "Do you know about Jesus?" I wish there had been a support group, Mothers of Future Pastors, because it's a daunting job and one I take very seriously. Too seriously I'm sure some would say.

I will be forever grateful that God brought Geoff into our lives. A godly man who has taught Jacob what it means to be a godly man. A man who walks the walk, each and every day.

Happy Birthday Cobby ~ thank you for your patience, your humor, and most of all, for your love.

Patty Smyth - Goodbye To You (OMG Is This a Great Song or What?)

What's the Big Deal About Coffee?

I myself have never consumed as much as one sip of coffee.  The smell of it alone is enough to make me gag.  However, I do enjoy mocha flavored food, as long as it isn't too strong.  31 Flavors makes a killer mocha shake.

I prefer to ingest my caffeine by way of soda pop.  Sometimes diet Coke and sometimes regular Pepsi.  It's cold, it's refreshing and it's a much more effective waker-upper than a hot beverage.  About the only hot things I drink are apple cider and hot chocolate.  Both of them make me want to go back to bed and get under the covers.

Just my two cents.

KennaBeans * A Fresh New Blog

My future daughter-in-law has recently begun to blog.  She has some amazing things to say.  And I'm not just braggin' on her because I adore her.  Check her out, you will see what I mean when I say A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.

http://kennabeans.weebly.com/

And, to quote Kenna, "Until next time, stay cool beans."

I'm Stingy

Yes, I'm stingy.  I see it more and more as the days go by.  I am very aware that my resources are limited, and it's important that I not waste them.  By resources I mean time, emotions, effort, and vulnerability.  I want to share the best of myself with people who truly appreciate me.  People who feel I add something of value to their lives.

And....I hate being ignored.  I give 110% in my relationships, and don't expect the other person to mirror that, but they should come close the majority of the time.  If they are too preoccupied to make me a priority, that's fine.  To borrow part of the title of a popular book, maybe they're just not that into me.  I'm not going to make a voodoo doll in their likeness and stick pins it.  I'll just stop investing my resources in that person.  To handle things any differently would require me to be fake, and that is something I cannot and will not do.

I think it's healthy to take a periodic inventory of the relationships in our lives.  If you're anything like me, you don't have to make time for this inventory because you have your own built-in warning system.  A system that alerts you when things are one-sided.  The bottom line is to value yourself, value your emotions, and value your time.  It's okay to be stingy.  Trust me on this one.

Quote of the Day

"There are some cases where Memory Lane should be closed to Through Traffic."

~ Me

He Gets It

I recently wrote a post called "One Foot Out the Door" concerning my son and his forgetfulness of "the rules."  He doesn't read my blog (big surprise there....lol) so today's phone call from him was completely innocent and not meant to score brownie points:

Him:  I'm just calling to let you know I have one more call to do (he works in merchandising) and then I'm going to see Pastor Chris, to fix his computer at 5:30.

Me:  Okay, thank you for letting me know.

Him:  I just wanted to you know because I didn't want you to plan something special for dinner and then I didn't show up.

Me:  Is Pastor Chris going to feed you dinner?

Him:  I don't know, but if he doesn't, I'll feed myself when I get home.

Me:  Okay, thank you - love you.

Him:  I don't want you to think that I take anything for granted because I'm not home.  A lot of parents get upset if their kids are never home.

Me:  I understand you never being home.  You're doing what you're supposed to be doing.  You know you have a bed and food and a place to rest and relax, when you need it.  That's our job as parents and as long as you are considerate, as you have been, we're good.

Him:  Thank you Mom, I appreciate that.

He does get it.  And he's a considerate, caring guy the majority of the time.  Fills my mother's heart with pride.

Two of My Most Favorite People

My son Jacob and his beautiful bride-to-be, McKenna.  Just look at that gorgeous ring too!

Attacks of ...... Panic

They occur far less frequently now, than they used to.  And that is how it should be since the traumatic event was eight years ago.  Yet to certain parts of my mind, the event was only yesterday.  That is the sad, cold truth of the matter.

My pain clinic doc wanted me to see their in-house family nurse practitioner.  I don't know why, and was never told why when I was contacted to schedule the appointment.  I already have a FNP and I would never give her up.  The appointment was today and about an hour beforehand the meltdown began.  Bottom line is I cancelled at the last moment, and now the provider must approve a future re-schedule.

It's impossible not to beat myself up over this kind of thing.  Yet logically I know all I can do at this point is accept the fact I will need to ask my husband to take me to future appointments of this type.  I will have to schedule them when he is available, and that's the way it has to be to avoid having this happen in the future.

Take a deep breath, suck it up, and move on.

Underwear

It's highly overrated, in my opinion.  It annoys me the way it bunches up or moves around.  And don't get me started on the old visible panty line phenomena.  I just don't like it and therefore, I rarely wear it.  I have a few pair, in case I have to go to the hospital.  Men are a lot more accepting of this.  Other women find it cheap and tacky.  So to shut them up I boldly announce, "I don't shave my legs either!"  Oh yeah, that always gets me a gasp or two or three.  THEN, I show them a leg and they bend down and examine it closely.  No tricks, no applications of hot wax or hours spent with tweezers.  I'm fair skinned and not a hairy person, I explain.  Haven't had to shave my legs for the past 15 years.  Whatever judgment they would have passed at the lack of under garments is quickly replaced by wonder and awe at my amazing hairless legs.

Tim Holtz

Looking for a deal on some Tim Holtz crafting goodness?

Just Click Here

No White Gloves Allowed

I made a quick visit to a dear friend's home last night.  She was apologetic because things were not in perfect order.  When it comes to being apologetic about a messy house, I am the QUEEN!  And rightfully so.  I have the most chaotic house of anyone I know.  It isn't right and it certainly is not fair to my husband or son.  But I digress.  

I did not see anything out of place at her house.  I only saw HER, and her sweet and funny husband.  I wasn't looking for dust or prints on the fridge.  If someone is your friend, they come to see you, not to inspect your house.  Anyone who knows me knows how I struggle to contain my creative messes.  They also know there is so much more to me than what meets the eye.  

Driving home I was thinking how sad it is that we worry about what our friends think of our housekeeping skills.  Because, if the friend isn't worrying, why should we?  We all lead hectic lives, but what's wrong with grabbing a pizza or some sandwiches at Subway and just hanging out together?  Let the dust bunnies fall where they may.

One Foot Out the Door

My son will be 20 in three weeks.  He's cooked.  He's ready to fly the coop.  And surprisingly enough, I'm ready for him to be on his own.  This is an extremely rational and psychologically healthy stand for a mom like me to take.  A mom who cried every first day of school up until his last year of high school.

He will be married in 11 months.  Yes, he's young and she is even younger.  They'll be okay though, because they both put God #1 in any situation, and especially in a marriage.  She has more maturity and grace than women twice her age.  And strength born from suffering things no young girl should have to endure.  It's obvious that God has put them together.  It won't be easy, but they will make it work.  They have many good people in their lives to help them through the rough spots, after marriage loses its new car smell.

We just have to survive these next 11 months with a young adult who seems to have forgotten the rules.  Rules like "because I said so" and "when you are living under my roof you live under my rules."  Mom and Dad may have to offer up a little continuing education on the finer points of parent/kid relations.  And if we do, that's fine.  We haven't come this far to wimp out now.

Another C Word

Colonoscopy.  My husband is having one tomorrow morning.  This will be his second time at bat.  Every five years they say.  I really do not think I could do it.  Not the procedure - the preparation.  I get extremely nasty when my blood sugar drops.  After even just a few hours of clear liquids I'd be up in a tower with hubby's gun.

Then there is the 800 gallons of "stuff" you have to drink.  "Stuff" which cleans you out.  He follows the instructions and always, and I mean always, achieves the desired result.  I just know if I tried it, they would get halfway through the test and find some corn from 1996 and I'd be rescheduled to do the whole thing over again.  

Plus, I'm just not compliant.  I'm the one who eats a peanut butter sandwich and drinks a can of diet Coke four hours before general anesthesia.  Why?  Because I can.

I'm Not Stupid

I'm not stupid.  I'm not stupid.  I'm not a brain surgeon either.  But I am reasonably intelligent.  If I really want to learn something, I am capable of learning it.  Even brain surgery.  At least, I used to be capable.  Probably way too old to learn it now.  But I do have incredibly steady hands and a love for working with tiny things in small, cramped spaces.  The mechanics of a light bulb should not defeat me.

My small gooseneck over the work table lamp was fluttering.  Assuming the bulb had loosened ever so slightly, I gently turned it to the right.  Because....righty tighty, lefty loosey, correct?  I'd like to be able to tell my ultra handy husband what I did to separate the light bulb into two pieces, but I have no idea.  He can look at a piece of furniture in a magazine and build an exact replica.  It's a real jolt to my pride to have to tell him I couldn't tighten a light bulb.

I could be a modern woman and attempt to fix it myself.  But I'm smart enough to know (see!) not to mess around with a light which is still plugged into the wall.  To unplug this light would require me to crawl underneath my work table.  I may be a gambler in Vegas, but not so much with my injured rotator cuff.  It just isn't worth moving or  twisting the wrong way.  Much more prudent to wait till hubby gets home.

In the meantime I've been working in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.  That adds a whole new layer to the glamour of being self-employed.  And yes, the lid is down.  After all, I'm not stupid.

Quote of the Day

“I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent devoted companionship of a dog that you can get from no other source.”

- Doris Day

The C Word

Cholesterol.  It's an old person word.  An old person concern.  And strongly influenced by those who came before us.  My numbers are awesome.  My husband's are not.  It sucks, especially these days when I don't want to cook and I don't want to think about what people are going to eat for dinner.  If I were living alone I'd go to Papa Murphy's and order a family size Chicken Garlic, no tomatoes, sub mushrooms, and that would keep me fed for three days.

My hubby is a great cook, but he likes to be told what to cook.  A menu, a plan.  My son is 19, engaged, popular, and it's summertime.  That adds up to him rarely being here for meal times.  I'm just going through a cranky food time of life.  I'll snap out of it!  Really.....I will!

Summer Attire

95% of women who wear sleeveless clothing.....shouldn't.  The word "hamhock" comes to mind.  Or is that two words?  Either way, cover it up.

If I Ran the World - Bratty Kids Would Be the Exception, Not the Norm

I cannot tolerate bratty kids.  I could use 300 point font, all caps and a million exclamation points and still not convey the true depth of how much I hate bratty kids.  Then there's the word "hate."  Strong word.  Do I hate the actual child?  Of course not.  The hate is reserved for the parents.  Especially the parent who laughs nervously, rolls their eyes and mumbles "I just don't know what to do with him/her!"  I seriously want to shake people like that.

There are no perfect children and there are no perfect parents.  But parenthood is not rocket science.  Parenthood is common sense, cause and effect, action and reaction.  To be a good parent you have to embrace the Golden Rule and be able to share that knowledge with your offspring. 

My son was precocious, opinionated, stubborn and hard-headed.  No doubt at all who his mother was!  Thankfully he was not a biter, but he did find it amusing to poke people in the eye.  Actually that's worse than biting now that I stop and think about it.  First poking incident was met with a stern but gentle admonition because, after all, he's two years old.  Second poking incident the message was stronger and harsher, hopefully to get the point across.  Unfortunately, there was a third poking.  It was swiftly followed by a fourth, that being my finger into his little eye.  A look of horror came across his face.  Then the tears fell and the crying commenced.  And here's the shocker!  He never poked anyone in the eye again.  He actually tells that story to illustrate the no-nonsense way he was raised, and to proclaim he will raise his kids the same way.

He threw a hissy fit in a restaurant.  Once.  He laid down and pitched a mega fit in Target.  Once.  He did many if not all of the things every normal kid does.  Once.  When his behavior did not achieve the desired result and backfired on him, he was intelligent enough to learn his lesson.  Kids are incredibly more intelligent than we give them credit for.  Sadly, most are far more intelligent than the people who brought them into this world.

Girls vs. Boys

I only have one child (that I know of).  Years before I got pregnant I began to very respectfully ask God to bless me with boy children.  I knew in my heart boys would be best for everyone concerned.  I found out I was having a boy at the actual moment I gave birth to a boy.  My son was shy and managed to conceal his privates during two ultrasounds.

I still believe I was a better boy mom than I would have been a girl mom.  But every once in a while, boy oh boy (mega pun intended) do I wish I had a girl to talk to.  A girl would understand my emotions.  A girl wouldn't stare at me with absolutely no clue what to say.  A girl would get me.

20 Years

I'm 54.  Hard to believe.  Even harder to type.  So, statistically speaking, I have roughly 20 years left on this earth.  This whole "getting old" thing has been many things: scary, funny, enlightening.  But mostly surreal.  Yes, surreal is the word to sum it up.  My mind is constantly flashing back to things from my teens.  For example, California Dental Association night at Disneyland.  They'd rent the whole park.  I looked forward to that one night all year.  I remember thinking - when I'm an adult I can visit Disneyland as often I want and no one can tell me no.  Now I live two states away and finances, work and just everyday responsibilities tell me no.

All of the cliches I heard growing up now apply to me.  I relate to the essays of Dave Barry and find myself thinking a lot more cranky thoughts than I used to.  I've begun to view life as a train trip.  You take your seat and gaze out the window as the scenery goes by.  I long ago passed diapers and daycare.  Now I'm cruising slowly through college tuition.

But....whatta ya gonna do?  Can't stop time.  Can't even slow it down.  And that's another thing!  How time passes so much more quickly the older we get!?!

Why Am I Here, You Ask....

Hello!  You are most likely here because we have first "met" on eBay and I have given you the link to this blog post because you need my email address or I need yours.  Mine is xposales@aol.com and if  you are curious as to why I had to ask you to come here, please read on.

eBay prohibits potential buyers and sellers from exchanging email addresses.  In fact, their message system has filters which prevent the sending of any message containing an email address.  If you try to disguise the address by typing things like "(at) a.o.l dot com" the filter will catch it and you will not be able to send the message.

Isn't She Lovely?

Jacob and his beautiful girl at her senior prom last weekend.  Over three years now and they are still going strong.  Won't be long till she has a ring on her hand and I'm fine with that.

My baby's heart was broken many times before he met his princess.  Usually girls would get bored with how he treated his parents with respect, had no interest in drugs or alcohol, and believed sex should be saved till the wedding night.  Not exactly a bad boy huh?

Well, one of the girls he dated was a wild child.  And since I myself started my adulthood as a wild child I never judged her, but I doubted she was the one God had chosen for this future Pastor.  Their relationship quickly fizzled and they went their separate ways.  She and her current boyfriend just had a baby a few months ago.  They are now engaged.  Meanwhile Jacob is finishing up his freshman year of college.

We live in a big "small" town.  The baby daddy works at a nearby restaurant where I am a frequent customer.  He is a perfectly lovely young man and we chat.  Jacob has sworn me to secrecy and I am forbidden to tell the young man that I am Jacob's mother.  I understand completely because in this big "small" town a familiar face is never far away.  But every time I see that young man I thank the Lord for not making me a grandmother yet.