The Gift of Time

It’s been 24 weeks since I last blogged.  I lost interest.  I was tired.  I felt like I didn’t have anything fun, high-strung or witty left to say.  Giving honor to Juju’s 72 laps felt like a good way to put the cancer to bed, so to speak.

But here we are. Approaching the anniversary of that time in our lives that was the bleakest.  And we find ourselves asking, how are we going to get through these holidays when the grief is still there? Raw.  Fresh.  Ever present in our hearts.

Juju had the answer.  We are going to proceed through the upcoming holiday season with the theme “The Gift of Time”.  She brainstormed a list of holiday activities that we could do as a family. Some cost money. Others are free. And we each asked our spouses which they would be willing to participate in. Should it be a surprise that they both left Country Peddler, Casa and Bass Hall off their list?  (We can turn those into a GNO). So, for the next few months I am going to blog our experiences and capture the gift that we have decided to give each member of our family… The Gift of Time.

Here’s a preview of our activities:

Country Peddler (Arlington Convention Center)

Christmas in the Stockyards (Stockyard Station)

Ice (Gaylord)

Holiday in the Park (Six Flags)

Downtown Holiday Dinner and Tree (Sundance Square)

Gift of Lights Tour (Texas Motor Speedway)

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (Weatherford Theater Off The Square)

If you have a favorite holiday tradition or activity that you would like to recommend, please leave a comment.  We’d love to add to our list.

Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year: Mom, Julie, Tony, Zak, Cameron, Michael and Hunter!!!!

Dear Jesus,

Can you please give my Dad a message?  Tell him that we miss him.  Every day.  Tell him we know it is OK to go on and do all of these together without him because if he was here with us, he wouldn't like the crowds, and the traffic, and getting out in the cold air.  He would be at home sitting on his beloved patio.  Tell him that we carry him in our hearts.  And Jesus, please give him a hug from his girls.  

Love,

His baby daughter. 

72 laps...

Relay for Life was last Friday.  Juju and I had been planning for the event for several months.  We had friends on board to help us and we thought we would have one of the best camp-sites at the event, which we did!  The only thing negative thing I can say about Relay is that the weather did not cooperate. Not one bit.  We were battling what felt like hurricane-gust winds all night.  Thank goodness for Too Tall and his Dad helping hold down our canopy.  Our “Honorary Pictures” lasted just a few minutes before they were blown off the ribbon to which they were attached.  But it was OK. We were there for more than just pictures.  We were there to participate in the fight against cancer.

I want to thank some of our awesome team members:

Marianne:  This awesome lady made us an original Daddy’s Girls sign.  It was AWESOME!  We were so proud to display it in front of our camp.  She also brought the most incredible snacks.  And the totally cool headbands you see us wearing in the pictures… yeah, she made them.  We were the best dressed team at the event!  Marianne has a true heart of gold and I am so very blessed to know her.

Ashley:  This girl brought the laughs.  She has such joy radiating out of her.  Hubby fell in love with her and told me later, “I want to hang out with her.”  Thank you Ashley for making sure I didn’t get all “sad”.

Erin:  Erin is the sweetest soul and has the cutest little girls on the planet. I was secretly hoping she would bring them because I just want to squeeze the bejeebus out of them every time I see a picture.  This friendship was born out of mutual friend, HEE, and the Relay was the first time we met in person.  I hope it was not the last.

Holly Eyster Erwin:  I’ll never be able to say just “Holly Erwin”.  In fact, I still catch myself calling her Polly-eyster in my mind.  Holly has the gift of making everyone in the room feel special.  Her “motherhood” stories and stories about the good ol’ days kept us in stitches.  She can weave a tale like nobody’s business.  And I love it when you catch her giving a wink at the end.  I am so glad, that through social media, I get to stay in touch.

Stacey and Pam:  I have worked with Stacey for a lonnggg time. No need to go into the exact years.  It ages us J  She and her mom, Pam, came and tore up the track for our team.   They busted out 30 laps before I could blink.  Stacey and I have shared almost parallel experiences with our Dad’s, just a year apart.  Tonight was special for both of us as we honored the men that we loved as “Daddy’s Girls”.   I was super appreciative of Pam’s support, both her donation, and her being on hand to walk with our team. These are two classy ladies!

The Jones Family: Too Tall, Boy, Ann, Roy, Logan, Liz, Jackson and Cooper all came out to support the team. And like I mentioned earlier, Roy and Too Tall literally supported our canopy from blowing into the next county.  I love this family dearly.  They have supported my family throughout my Dad’s journey.  If you don’t know the connection, this is Boy’s grandparents, dad, uncle/aunt/cousins.  I was so honored that they were willing to be an official part of the team and help with donations and be at the Relay.  ***and Too Tall brought Juju and I a life-saving Sonic Diet Dr Pepper after we had set up the canopy and tent.  It hit the spot!

Kelley and Leanna(Lulana): These are my girls.  I don’t think I could make it through a day of work without them.  They are my sounding boards and my support system.  It was a late night for them, and I am so grateful that they gave up precious time during the busiest time of year to come support our team.  Kelley had an amazing fundraiser and helped our team reach its goal.

Rick/EJ:  Rick and EJ are Juju’s In-Law’s. They came from Granbury to support us. EJ got it started by walking a mile with Juju.  Little did she know that Juju would continue walking for another 17 miles!

Hubby: Hubby came late after chaperoning a yearbook dance at his school.  And we are so glad he did.  He stayed till the bitter end and helped us load up all of our gear.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Last but certainly not least, Juju: This girl was the backbone of the whole operation.  She encouraged me not to quit after last November.  She came up with great ideas for the campsite and made sure they were executed with perfection (especially since I had to run back home and get my folder while she put the finishing touches on the displays!) Somewhere in relay conversations, it was mentioned that we should do 72 laps to honor Dad’s age.  I jumped on board and thought “sure, we can do this”.  What I really meant to say is “sure, JUJU can do this”.  And she DID!  She hit the track early in the evening and managed to bust out over 40 laps before I had reached double digits. She kept at it throughout the evening.  And before the Relay was over, she had reached 72.  I’ll let her blog her own experience (HINT HINT! Juju). But I know that I have never been more proud of her than at that moment we finished the turn on lap 72.  She’s a warrior.

Again, thank you to all of our donors, friends and family that supported this journey.  I think, no, I know that Dad would be proud!

My sister…

I have written about my sister quite a few times in my blogs over the past year.  I think we have established that she is the ‘favorite daughter’, she is the cream to my coffee grounds, and she has a heart of gold and is generous beyond words.  It is the last point that I want to focus on in my blog today.

Last Saturday we spent the day running errands preparing for Relay for Life and Mother’s Day.  She had already spent the morning at Mom’s doing yard work and washing her car, but we are power shoppers so she powered through an afternoon/evening of checking things off our “To Do List”.

Sometimes things can still be pretty raw for us and Saturday was one of those days for me.  I have my “only child” graduating, and for some reason Saturday, it hit me that in the long run, I will have left him an orphan.  

No siblings.

Was it too late to have another kid?  Yes.  Yes it is.

Moving on...  Mother’s Day.  We were preparing to celebrate our incredible Mom and shopping for some last minute goodies. But we knew that it would also be an occasion which reminded us that a big piece of our heart isn’t around to share in the celebration. We bought Mom tickets to a Ranger game.  Cool.  But the game happens to fall on Father’s Day. It was a coincidence.  That date was the only weekend day that we would all be available to go.  Maybe it was an angel’s way of looking out for us and making sure we didn’t sit around the house soaking ourselves in tears. 

And then there is Relay for Life.  We made the decision to honor our commitment to our team, but let me tell you something… as excited as I pretend to be on the outside, this is going to be hard.  Julie has done an amazing job planning our campsite and it will look great.  We have some great people who are going to be there to support us and to walk for their own loved-ones.  In fact, one of my dearest friends had to cancel because she had a family member recently diagnosed and wants to spend as much time with her family as possible. Trust me.  WE understand.  And every time I thought about her Saturday, as we were running errands, my heart broke into a million pieces and I had to choke back the tears.  This is a family that I LOVE.  And those tears bring me to Julie…

After our errands were finished, we were starving.  Like, I was getting shaky, kind of starving.  Yet we could not decide where to eat. 

We do that a lot.  Where do you want to eat? I don’t care, where do you want? It doesn’t matter to me. On and on. And on and on. We finally agreed on a hamburger. 

But where?  We were over by Ridgmar, which led to Camp Bowie, which meant, hey, what about Risky’s?  Juju called her hubby to see if he would want to meet us there.  He took a pass.  Juju decided Braum’s.  Until we drove by the Risky’s sign and saw “All you can eat Ribs $7.99”.  But I couldn’t get over in the turn lane fast enough.  And since I was distracted by the “All you can eat” sign, I missed my turn to Braum’s.  Here was our chance.  I had to make a U-turn anyway… Risky’s?  Nope. We decided to stick wtih Braum’s. (things happen for a reason, don’t they?)

We were only in our booth for about 2 minutes before Juju noticed him.  An older gentlemen sitting in a back booth.  Kind of not well-kempt. She asked me to take a look to see if he was alone.  He was.  I could see a black bag sitting across from him and a large cup on the table that was not from Braum’s.  (You know where this is going right?)  We both kept an eye on him.  I had a more direct view and kept Juju posted on what was happening. He seemed to have a phone. He seemed to be talking to himself. And he most definitely did NOT have food on his table.

There is no possible way to calculate what Juju has given away to the downtrodden in her lifetime.  Her generosity knows no bounds.

 After we are close to being finished with our burgers, I know what is coming.  Out comes the money.  It sits there on the table for a few moments while we finish eating. And in the mean time, an older couple came in with what appeared to be two adult children with special needs, one wearing a helmet.  I couldn’t stop what was about to happen.  I start sobbing uncontrollably.  It’s like a half-sob/half-laugh, but there is nothing funny.  I just couldn’t quit.

Every emotion rolled over me at once; I missed my Dad, I am leaving Hunter an orphan when I am gone.  Please let him marry a wonderful girl with a big, close family.  Why, oh WHY is my dear friend going through what we just spent the last year enduring?  Dear God, please spare her sweet family.  Make a miracle.

 The world had dealt too much on my emotional plate at that moment.

Juju, my hero, steps up. She grabs the money, tells me to go to the car and she’ll meet me there.  I gather up the trash, head to refill my cup and I can hear the man talking to Juju.  I can’t hear what she is saying, but he is responding.  I look up to see her headed around the corner and we both head to the door.

As I regain my composure in the car, she relays the incident to me.  She approached the man and told him that we were missing our Dad and wanted to know if we could treat him to dinner.  He answered “yes” and then told her that the anniversary of his Dad’s passing was last Wednesday.  He proceeded to point at her cross necklace and tells her that was her good luck charm.  He was gracious. 

Juju has a gift.  She even expressed that she believes that someday she will work with the less fortunate; maybe not as a job, but as a volunteer.  I believe it.  She does have a gift.

 She has a gift of knowing and a gift of words to be able to approach people and not have them feel threatened or offended.  She has the gift of charity – as defined by Merriam Webster "generosity and helpfulness, especially toward the needy or suffering; also, aid given to those in need." 

She NEVER seeks attention. She does NOT like any attention drawn to her.  In fact, I may be taken off the Christmas card list for writing this post.  I'll take my chances.  I want the world to be inspired by her the way I am... 

a little bit of everything

I haven’t blogged in a long time.. there has been a ton of stuff happening and I am too much of a perfectionist to try and organize it into the perfect blog. So I give up.  Here is a sloppy blog and it’s not even in chronological order.  Sorry.

We have our first prom out of the way.  Whew!  It was a doozy getting the details nailed down, but when the day arrived, it was perfect.  Pictures at the Botanical Gardens.  The date’s mom taking them to the Worthington and then to Project Celebration.  And finally, Juju and I picked Boy up at 4:00AM. Yes.  In the morning.  In Euless.  We crashed at Mom’s waiting for the word he was ready to call it a night.  Or a morning.

Hubby is busy wrapping up school.  It gets super busy this time of year. Choir concerts. Band concerts. Theater productions. Cheerleader tryouts.  Yearbook dances. And a few more that escape me.  Spring is in the air.  Which I found out means “flirt” is in the air when Hubby and I went to Academy and he had a lady (student’s mom) fawning all over him.  Telling him how good he looked.  I was apparently wearing my invisible suit that day.  Geez louise.  He’s not living this one down for quite a while.

Mom’s Day is coming up.  I splurged on a gift for myself and bought a matching one for Juju. Every since I came across a pinterest post showing handwritten notes engraved on jewelry, I have been obsessed with finding someplace close to buy one.  I finally saw a website, thevintagepearl.com, that offered the same thing.  Juju had an anniversary card where Dad and Mom had both signed it.  It was perfect.  And it is now hanging around my neck.  Happy early Mother’s Day. To me! And Juju!

By the numbers…

31 days till Graduation  Are you KIDDING me?  I have 31 days until my baby bird is able to leave the nest if he chooses.  I. Can’t. Take. It.  I am throwing myself into spreadsheets organizing his invitations and thank you notes, as well as organizing his party.  I don’t even want to think about that night.  Buy your stock in Kleenex now.   And I am trying to figure out a way to say “hey, you got this invitation because a) I want to brag and b) I spent a small fortune on pictures and you need to see how awesomely handsome my kid is but c) it is NOT and I repeat NOT a solicitation for money.  Is there a way to do that???? I want to send an announcement to everyone I know, but I don’t want them to feel obligated to send back cash. 

  

46 days till Camp CommUNITY I am back.  I gave up camp last year for a few reasons.  But I am going back this year and am stepping it up a notch to Co-director.  I am a little, ok a lot, nervous.  This is a big responsibility.  It is very exciting and like with anything I do, I plan.  I will be planning from now until June 22.  I have a binder.  I have a legal pad.  Last night I bought a small spiral that I can make notes in at camp.  Plan. Plan. Plan. 

51 days till THE CRUISE Yeah. Carnival says it is still happening.  I am not as confident but will continue to shop prepare as if it is.  Juju is talking about taking a solar powered battery charger. Check. Water purification tablets. Check. Bottled water. Check. And extra food. Check.  Now to find a suitcase to hold my clothes.  Our cousin happened to be in Mobile the other day.  This is where the Triumph is currently undergoing repairs. This is the text Juju and I received: “Just put my eyes on the Carnival Triumph in the port of Mobile… still have a lot of work to do, looks rough on the outside.”  Oh. My. Gosh!  That doesn’t help.  Not at all.  Not one bit.  Let’s face it. Carnival says the next sail date is June 13.  This ship still has to get to a dry dock in the Bahamas or someplace and get fixed from the storm damage.  Then it has to make its way back to Galveston.  And it only has 51 days.  Did you see the big gash ripped in the side of it?  We are a) getting canceled or b)will be the maiden voyage.  I don’t know which I truly want.  I’ll keep you posted on Cruise Watch 2013!

Lastly, I want to talk about my sister.  Juju.  This girl is my rock.  We have spent most of the last 17months together. Side by side. Non-stop.  You might think that we would be sick of it, but we are not.  We are closer than ever.  We talk about our grief journey. We understand that we are not always at the same place at the same time.  It comes and goes.  We understand that each of us has triggers and that each of us handle them differently.  We also don’t let that dominate our time together.  We shop. We laugh. We share our family stories.  We share our work stories.  We share our love of food stories.  We share our future hopes and dreams.  Whenever I look through the photos on my phone, and I land on one of the two of us, there is always a smile that immediately pops up on my face.  Those pictures take me back to an adventure and I can immediately remember the little details of what was happening.  I love that we love pictures so much.  I am not very good about posting them on here, but I am working on that.  So here is a little homage to my “sister”. 

Pieces of joy…

I guess after re-reading my last blog I have decided it was truly a downer.  Thank you for your messages of support and encouragement.  Grieving is hard.  It is slow.  It is not fun.  I am only a few months into a process that can take quite a bit of time.  There is no “by the book” process either.  We are all different.  For that matter, I will forever be different.  A piece of my heart is gone.  Until heaven.

This weekend was not one I was particularly looking forward to.  Last Easter Dad was in the hospital for treatment.  It seemed we were always at the hospital for the holidays.  That will inevitably make them hard for some time to come.  It’s a trigger of remembering this journey. That didn’t end the way we wanted.  The only thing I was initially looking forward to was the extra day off from work.  A three day weekend is awesome this time of year with middle schoolers.  So I am really excited to reflect on and write about the things that surprisingly brought me some joy.

Friday – I stayed in bed.  Late. That’s what I do when I do not have to go to work or have an appointment of some sort.  Hubby was working on a trailer at Mom’s and I didn’t have to be anywhere.  I did some cleaning and some laundry and waited for Hubby to get home.  He grilled some hot dogs.  I made some loaded fries that were out of this world delicious.  Never mind that my kitchen looked like a science experiment had exploded when all was said and done.  But it was worth it. Slap your momma good, worth it.   We watched some basketball and laughed about how busted our brackets are.  I had pieces of joy.

Loaded cheese fries.. messy but worth it!

Saturday- We never go see movies.  We always SAY we want to go see ‘this movie’ or ‘that movie’ but we never have make the time to go.  Saturday we changed that.  We planned a Double Feature with GI JOE and OLYMPUS FALLEN.  We even managed to get Boy to go with us to the first movie.  I almost couldn’t contain myself.  My two favorite guys. At the movies.  The only unfortunate part was that Boy has inherited his Juju’s movie magnet gene.  He had people creep next to him, even though my purse was trying to give him some space, and then they creeped in front of him and leaned WAY back in their chair. Seriously, he’s 6’2”.  He barely has room for his legs, let alone the jackwagon’s efforts at sitting in his lap by leaning back so far.  But other than that.  I had pieces of  joy. Channing Tatum, The Rock, Gerard Butler pieces of joy!

Turn your head to the right and this picture will display the joy I had
spending time with my boys!

Sunday – I knew this day was going to be rough.  I wanted to be at church with Mom because I knew it would bring her joy.  Me? Not so sure. Church is still a dicey place for me.  I am working on it. I promise.  I was praying pleading that Jesus would open my ears and let me hear what I needed to hear.  It didn’t happen.  At the end of the service, I looked over at Hubby and made the “eyes” at him that said; take a right out of the pew and head to the door.  We did.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was so hoping for some “Son”shine and rainbows from the message, but I didn’t get any.  Of course, there is always lunch at Mom’s to turn things around.  We are slowly but surely getting back to Sunday dinners.  And just as we are about to get to Mom’s house (still deflated from my church experience), I look over to my right.  Just as we approach the church on the corner, up the hill from Mom’s house, I nearly leapt out of my seat.  I saw a person dressed up like a bunny.  A tall, white bunny.  A pristine looking bunny.  Running and skipping and waving his/her arms in the air.  There were kids running all over the field. With baskets.  Picking up eggs.  I burst into a quiet sob.  I yelled at Hubby and Boy to “LOOK!”  Look at that.  It was joy.  I found pieces of  joy.  On a morning when I thought joy was lost, it was right there for me to see.  A field full of kids, racing around for eggs and a tall, white bunny skipping alongside them.  It kind of made me think that Heaven might have been having their own egg hunt for the little ones who are already there.  And that the adults are watching with smiles on their faces.  With joy!

Juju brought Boy a collection of "special" eggs from through
the years of egg-hunting at Grandma's.  I loved the ones
where he had written his name on them.  Juju even
included some prize money and candy.  Pieces of joy!

Cream or Coffee Grinds?

I am currently waging an epic battle in my life with negativity.  It’s not a new thing.  I usually admit that I see the glass “half-empty”, that Juju is the “nice sister” and that grudges stay with me for a long time.  Even when I proclaim to be “over it”, I can rattle off the details of the offense quicker than a fly gets to honey.  Forgiveness is hard for me.  Forgetting even harder.

I have some amazing women in my life that serve as examples of Godly women who have the gift of inspiration and of being true role models.   They constantly try to lift me up and get me to see the ‘other side’ of situations.  But it ain’t easy.

It’s been a serious long spell of feeling little to no joy.  I can “picture” me going home, fixing dinner, laundry, treadmill, cleaning.  But what you would actually “see” if you were in my house is me curled up in my LazyBoy, wrapped in a blanket, flipping channels. Till bedtime.   Even bedtime is hard for me.  My dreams have become so disturbing that I don’t want to shut my eyes.  I take a melatonin at bedtime to try and help me relax. But I can’t.  

And I can’t quit crying.  It’s worse now than three months ago.  I watched some video clips from The Voice. Balled like a baby.  Because the judges were being nice.  Gave Hunter some bad advice that really put him in a bind.  Choked back tears when I realized my mistake.  I read my name in Holly’s blog this morning.  Burst into tears.  

Life is hard.  I’m a rational person.  I know this gets better.  But does it?  Really?

Every time I have started to write this blog, I have composed an entire short story detailing the actions of the idiot pastor that is a nuisance to our community.   I could link you to his fb and his blog and let you see for yourself what a sanctimonious jerk he is, but what purpose does it serve.  Five minutes of me feeling better exposing his unbelievable gift of beating people up in the name of Jesus?  Then what?  What would that solve?  And I can hear my mom in the background of my mind saying, “Be cream, dear.”

My mom is the most awesome women I know.  She has a heart of gold.  She forgives. She is compassionate. She is generous.  She lives and breathes Christ in her heart.   All of the things I struggle with.  And she tries to keep me thinking positive in all situations. That may be her biggest struggle in life.   “Be cream, dear.”  I hear it often.  If you don’t understand the analogy, you may need a tutorial in how you arrive at the delicious goodness that is cream. 

To arrive at cream, start whipping milk, the cream will automatically come on the top of milk.  You can then separate the cream from the milk.

Cream rises to the top.  It gets a little beat up in the process, but it always rises to the top.   So now you see why Mom is always after me to “Be cream.”   Can I just say that being “cream” is HARD.  Very hard.  I’m not a cream person.  When I get a little beat up, I want to beat back.  In fact, after a particularly hard week of trying to be cream, I exploded with a new analogy.  It went something like this…

I am not cream.  I cannot be cream.  I am coffee grinds.  I am dark.  I am bitter.  I sink to the bottom of the cup. 

Not my finest moment. But honest.  I am tired of forgiving other people. I am tired of people getting to be insensitive and being expected not to react. With how I truly feel.    But Mom has a point.  Being dark and bitter is hard too. 

This is not one of my finer blog moments.  But I had to get this out there.  Off my chest.  Out of my head.  I have cried three times in the writing of this.  It is time to move on.  It is time to beat some milk and find the cream.  Even if it is forced. A little like Cool Whip… sort of cream, but not really.  I’ll do my best.

Easter card I sent to Juju...I have no idea when
they took this picture of me LOL

From the heart of a child...

I grew up in a house where we had ‘more than enough’.  It may not have been everything I wanted, but it was most certainly everything I needed. And then some.  My mom was and is a perfect example of someone who lives out the tenet of Christian charity.  She is generous beyond words.  Many people have been on the receiving end of her generosity and they never knew where it came from.  She does not desire or seek recognition for her acts.   My sister is much the same way.  She has a heart as big as the world and as soft as a downy pillow.   She often gives away money to those whom most of us refuse to make eye-contact with.  Even if it means pushing me out of the passenger seat of her car at a red light, in the rain, to give a man in a wheelchair money that she was about to spend at Sam Moon’s in Dallas. (And that is just one story; I could tell a hundred about my sister and her generosity to friends, family and co-workers, but she reads this blog and wouldn’t want the attention. She’s a chip off of Mom’s block) I wish I could follow up these statements by saying that I am the same way.  I’m not.  I have a heart as hard as the west Texas soil and as closed off as Fort Knox.  It would take a special kind of chisel to get me to break.  I am selfish.  My boot collection proves it. I provide for my family.

Which leaves me wondering, did I fail my child for not being the kind of example that my Mom was to me?  Or that my sister has been in our adult years?  Not at all.  You know how I know this? Because he walked in the door to Mom’s house yesterday after taking his zoom-zoom to be washed and told this story….

I went by Pep Boys after washing my car to get some cleaner wipes.  I had a rebate card and some money left on a gift card I was going to use.  This man walks up to me (and he is not dressed very nice and is a little dirty) and comments on my jeans.  He says, “Hey, I like your jeans.  I have a couple of pairs like those too”.  So I just nod and say, “Thanks.  I like them too.  Did you get them at Buckle?”  Man says, “Yeah, Buckle, that’s where I got them”.   He then tells me that he missed his bus and that he was going to see his kids.  It runs on the hour and he was wondering if I could help him out.  I thought he was going to ask me for a ride and I got kind of nervous.  He then asks if I had sixty dollars and I was like “Sixty dollars?” (with a surprised voice since you can’t hear this blog) And the guy says “No, no, SIX dollars”.  So I say, “Well let me see what I have”, and I open my wallet and there is a $5 bill and a $1 bill and he says, “$10 will work if you have it.”  I pull out the money and tell him I have exactly $6 and give it to him. 

After he finishes the details of the story he says that he “thought of Juju” when the man asked.  He said it felt like the right thing to do, and then when he saw that he had exactly what the man asked for, it felt like God was telling him it was the right thing to do.  How precious is that?  And it answers the question that it’s ok if I wasn’t the example I needed to be to him.  I didn’t have to be.  I had Juju and Mom helping out all along.  I am so grateful for these amazing women to be in my life and I am so grateful that their hearts of gold have planted the seed of generosity in my son, even when I didin’t do it.  I hope that whenever Boy is faced with similar situations, he remembers Juju and keeps his heart open. (And he remembers his Mom telling him “never give a ride to a stranger.” “Make sure if you are opening your wallet, turn away so they cannot see what you have.  You don’t want them to wait for you outside and mug you.”  “And be careful when you go out to your vehicle. See if they are still in the area.”  “And only roll your window down a little if you are giving someone on the street money. Don’t let them get their arm in your window.  Keep your door locked.” – See?  Hard as a rock, but as proud as a peacock! 

facebook; the good, the bad, the ridiculist (borrowed from Anderson Cooper)

Lately I have been wondering if facebook has run its course in providing entertainment, information and a way of keeping in touch.  If I deleted the people that I have no “real” connection with, I would probably be left with about 20 people on my “friend” list.   When you think about it, it’s a socially acceptable way of being nosy and voyeuristic into other peoples’ lives.  And what is the point of that? What benefit does it provide?  How does that enhance my existence on this earth?   I publicly stated a few weeks back that I was de-friended.  No sweat off my back.  She obviously didn’t like my point of view on NFL players and I really didn’t like her point of view that lying about attending my Dad’s memorial service was appropriate “friend” behavior.  C’est la vie. (PS- she not only unfriended me, she left facebook for a while, which is her usual M.O., and now she’s back, but has blocked me.  Wow, who knew my opinions were so powerfully offensive)!

Maybe we should come up with “facebook friend contracts” to make sure we are all on the same page when it comes to how we use facebook.  Or maybe a pledge we all post.  Here, I’ll start:

Things I promise NOT to do on facebook:

1.    I promise NOT to post more than one “duck face, self portrait” a week.  (I’ll post those on instagram – LOL)

2.    I promise NOT to use a picture of my boobs in a t-shirt as my cover photo.  (Ain’t nobody got time for that. Wait, she had time for that.  That explains some things)

3.    I promise NOT to defriend you because you state an opinion that I do not share.  In fact, I welcome your diverse opinions.  We don’t have to be the same political party, faith or share the same views on the economy, gun control or thugs in the NFL to be friends. 

4.    I promise NOT to defriend you because you “Share” everything.  And I don’t mean share details about your life.  Bring that stuff on.  I’m nosy.  I mean “Share” all of those e-cards and ‘One Like = you’re going to heaven’ and pictures of people missing and critically ill babies in hospital beds.  If I can be your friend through all of those ridiculous posts, then I should be added to your Christmas list. And if you don’t celebrate Christmas then sending me a birthday gift will be just fine.

Things I promise TO do on facebook:

1.    I promise TO post a million pics of my kid’s tennis season and my nephew’s baseball season.  They bring me joy.

2.    I promise TO state my opinion on a variety of topics, early and often (Chicago history buffs will get that). 

3.    I promise TO start hitting you up to be a part of our Relay Team or to support us through your prayers.  I have tried really hard to cancel my participation, because nobody wants to have to go change your registration from “In Honor of” to “In Memory of”.  But something is stopping me from quitting.  Mostly my awesome sister, who is my rock.  And the fact that Dad wouldn’t want us to quit.  He’ll be there with us.  So be prepared if you are in my area.  Join our team!  I will post the link later this week (early and often).

That’s not fair…

How many times as a kid did you say the words, “that’s not fair” or some variation of?  In our society we are hung up on a sense of fairness.  But the point that is usually being made is actually, “that’s not equal”.  For some reason we equate fairness with things being equal. And that’s a shame.

As a teacher, I get a lot of opportunities to distinguish between fair and equal.  I have a classroom with up to 20 kids who each learn differently and each deserves the opportunity to achieve success using their natural abilities and the tools I can provide.  (SIDEBAR: Anyone out there reading this who just did a double-take that I only have 20 kids in my class instead of the usual 30-35 you hear about in news stories, well, that’s the advantage of a small district. And I love it.  My classes range from 12-20.  We call it Paradise for a reason. And before you get any notion about packing up and moving out here…stop. Except H.E.E., you have already bought land.  You bring those sweet kids and let me get a crack at ‘em. Everyone else stay put.  If you all move out here, I will have 30 kids in my class) So, a room full of kids who each learn differently.  What do you do?  How do you treat them fairly?  Well, first of all, you acknowledge that fair is not always equal.

There is a thing in education called “accommodations”.  Some students receive these by law because they have a diagnosed learning difference and these accommodations help them to master the learning standards and skills.  If you are old like me, you might remember being in elementary school and looking around and realizing that your friends in class were grouped by “ability”; the smart kids in one group, the average kids in another, and then the students that had the most difficulty were in the final group.  We don’t do that anymore.  Teachers can have lots of individual learning accommodations in one classroom.   It is challenging work.  It is rewarding too.  I think I find it most rewarding when you have students that might be struggling and they don’t have any mandatory accommodations, yet you find the way that they learn and you help them.  But wait? Is that fair? To give a student help that is not mandated on a piece of paper in your file?  Absolutely.  It’s fair.  It’s not equal.  And there is a big difference.

Several years ago, I was actually called out by a student about another student receiving a different assignment.  They wanted to know why they had to do “more” work.  This was a perfect time for me to explain the fair and equal principle, without embarrassing any of the students involved.  The story goes…  Imagine you have been outside riding your four-wheeler (hey, we are in Paradise, it’s what kids do) and you have an accident.  Your parents need to take you to the hospital. They have a choice: Hospital A where every patient is treated fairly or Hospital B where every patient is equal. (You already see where this is going don’t you?)  You insist on going to Hospital B because you want the same treatment everyone else gets (because as a kid you think fair means equal).  You get to Hospital B and they look at your injuries and give you an aspirin.  That’s what they give everybody at Hospital B. The problem is you broke your arm and an aspirin doesn’t quite fix that.  But, you were treated equally with every other patient that came in.  Obviously, your parents whisk you away to Hospital A where the treatment is fair and you get your arm put in a cast.  The kid in the room next to you is getting stitches on his forehead and another patient down the hall is getting antibiotics for an infection.  All of which is fair, because each patient has unique symptoms. 

I have shared this analogy (variations of) many times throughout my career.  Which is not to say that I don’t have my moments when I have to remind myself that fair does not always mean equal.   I think it is something that we need to remind ourselves of when we are faced with applying rules/standards/expectations and we try to make it “one size fit all”.  Life is gray.  There are times when black and white standards/rules must apply but there are times when you have to look at the big picture and be fair.

Let facts be submitted to a candid world...

Recognize that phrase from the title?  If not, you can locate it in the "Declaration of Independence".  The complete phrase is "To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world."  It's the phrase that appears right before what I like to call the "He did" portion of the "Declaration".  You see, when the colonists/founding fathers reached their max boiling point with King George III and he  refused any of their attempts at working things out, they drafted the Declaration.  If you have never read the entire text of the Declaration of Independence, I suggest you do so.   It won't take long and it is pretty interesting.  You see, they didn't just decide to break away from Great Britain and go their own way like petulant children who took their toys to a new sand box.  They thoughtfully and carefully took actions at reconciliation and then decided it was in their best interest to "break up" and they listed those reasons in the Declaration.  I actually use the "boyfriend/girlfriend" analogy with my students.  If you are a jerk, you just break up.  If you are a mature young person you explain your actions so that the person on the other end of the break-up isn't left wondering where things went wrong.  That's what ol' TJeff did.  He listed out, very clearly, all of the actions by KGIII that led to the break-up.  And the list is long.  About 27 "He did"'s if I remember correctly.  Some little. Some big.  But they all validate the need for the "break up". 

Some people might say that you shouldn't "judge" someone like that; you shouldn't list out their past trangressions.  I am sure that TJeff might have exaggerated on some of the points, but not much.  There seems to be proof to back up what KGIII was being accused of.  I understand that nobody is perfect, but sometimes you need to be called out on  your actions.  As long as facts are being used. 

I wonder how TJeff and BFrank and JAddizzle would have handled it if they had had access to facebook or twitter while composing the document.  Would they post their list of "He did"s only to have their "friends" post they were too harsh and that KGIII shouldn't be held accountable or judged by his actions?  Or that the transgressions were in the past and maybe KGIII had turned over a new leaf and was going to become an upstanding leader and start listening to the colonists and treating them fairly?   Oh I am a firm believer that liars, cheaters and thieves can repent and start over. But I also believe that if the facts are indeed factual, TJeff had every right to compose the list of "He did"s.  And that doens't make him "judgmental".  It makes him informed, able to state his opinion backed by true and accurate information.  And when you choose to live your life in the spotlight (like KGIII), you are subject to people stating the facts; the good and the bad. 

And people like TJeff and BFrank have every right to "let facts be submitted to a candid world..."

Better late than never

My baby is growing up. Fast. Before my eyes.  Some days I can't stand it.  Some days I burst with joy at the wonderful young man he has grown into.  I didn't deal him an easy life.  Growing up the product of divorce.  But I didn't let it define him either.  Both families love my Boy to the ends of the earth and he is spoiled rotten made to feel special each day.

I truly intended to have a blog to post on his birthday but it didn't happen.  I used all of my energy to make sure that he had a great day and that I wasn't mired down in my own grief.  I just know how proud my Dad would have been to witness his grandson turn 18.  It is just another in a long  line of things we have to adjust to.  That is not to say that there were not tears but they had more to do with the fact that my Baby is 18 and is technically an adult.   My original idea for a Bday post was to go back in time and tell the story of his birth.  And now that I have waited two weeks and we have celebrated his big day, the blog will be a two-fer:  January 3, 1995 and January 3 2013.

To the beginning:
I had an awesome pregnancy.  There was no morning sickness.  Hunter was active in my belly and I loved it.  I also loved food.  Every time I had an OB appointment, Too Tall and I would stop and eat at Campo Verde.  Chips, salsa, queso and cheese enchiladas.  Every time.  In fact, it is safe to say that I did that on every trip to Fort Worth, OB appointment or not.  And remember, my parents live there.  I had a lot of chips and salsa in those 40 weeks.  I also had a lot of chocolate shakes. There wasn't a Braums I drove by without stopping.  (see above: parents in Fort Worth, Braums at corner of Quebec and 199).  I guess the only complication you could say I had during this pregnancy was gaining weight.  A lot of it.  To the point where my OB told me I could eat what fit under the door.  I guess he thought that would be a good illustration.   But my comeback was that a lot of pizza could fit under the door.  Fifty pounds later, I began to wonder if I should have listened to him.

On the morning of January 3rd, I had my 40 week appointment.  I had spent the morning at school making last minute lesson plans for my substitute.  I was not going to be returning to work after the Christmas break and wanted to be caught up as much as possible.  Too Tall met me at the doctor and the appointment went fine.  I was dilated a little and since I was having a big boy, Dr M was not going to let me go past my due date.  We were told to return to the hospital in the morning to be induced.  Too tall went back to work and then home and I went over to my Mom's. (There was some debate earlier about going to see my Bro-in-law's basketball game in Nocona.  We decided against it and that was a fortuitous decision) I start feeling "crampy"around 6:00 and Mom and Juju told me I should just stay in Fort Worth.  Nope.  I had laundry to do and wanted to go home and get everything ready for the hospital.  Juju kept trying to get me to tell her when the cramping started and stopped but it wasn't like that.  It was just like a 13 year old having pms cramps.  So off I went.  Home to do laundry.  About 8:30 or 9:00 (stop reading if you are squeamish) I lost my plug. (BACKGROUND: I did not do ANY birthing classes.  Waste of time.  I was self-proclaimed walking in to the hospital butt-first to get my epidural. This is important for the rest of the story.)  So, after that 'thing' falls out in the bathroom, I start getting panicky.  I call my doctor, who is obviously not at the office and is obviously expecting to see me tomorrow morning.  We don't have call waiting, so I keep calling back and he keeps calling me getting a busy signal.  I think we were both pretty frustrated.  Finally, it is decided to go ahead and head to hospital.  He will meet us there.

Too tall and I get my bag, the baby bag, and the car seat (Is it installed? Heck no.  We just throw it in there and this will be important later.)  and we head to Fort Worth, Harris Downtown.  Those cramps are now fierce.  I can definitely tell you when they are starting and stopping and there is not much time in between.  Maybe 5 minutes.  Maybe 3 or 4.  At Azle we have a decision to make.  I am biting on the seat belt strap to keep from birthing in the car and to try and not push this baby out immediately.  Do we stop at the Harris Azle or keep going to Fort Worth?  People, we rolled the dice. Big time.  And we kept going to Fort Worth.  If we had left Paradise 15 minutes later, that would have been the wrong call.

We get to the hospital and the people in the ER think I can control this baby.  That I have some sort of magical power to keep it from bursting from my loins.  However, they do catch on pretty quick and get me up to a room.  Yeah, it's time for that epidural.  First they start an IV, which took two tries. The blood squirting across the room on the first was an indication they misses and should have been an indication to me that the epidural was a pipe-dream.  I am trying ever so hard to answer the questions and not give birth at the same time.  When they finally get to the epidural question the nurse asks Too Tall if I can stay still long enough because they have no more time to do it. Now or never.  HELLO?? I am the one enduring the pain.  Ask me.  And what does Too Tall say?  NO! She can't do it.  Don't give it to her.  I am sure that I made him pay for that later, but I was too busy trying not to push this bowling ball out.

 I realize that it is just me and Too Tall in the room.  Where is my Mom? Where is my sister?  We called them from the road. They live 15 minutes from the hospital.  We lived an hour away.  However, I quit worrying about them when I hear a nurse say "he fell back asleep, we have called him again and he should be here shortly."  WHAT? MY DOCTOR WAS TAKING A NAP?  At that point, I was about 30 seconds from "lift off".  My baby was coming, like it or not.  AND WHERE WAS MY MOM?  Too Tall has already betrayed me by denying me drugs.  I needed someone who understood what was happening, because all of those people yelling at me NOT TO PUSH were getting on my  nerves.

Finally, Dr M walked in and he literally sat in the chair, pulled out a needle and then some scissors (I won't be graphic but ladies who have birthed have now crossed their legs, just like when a dude sees another dude get hit in the whoohaa's).   TWO pushes later.... WE HAVE BOY!  but WHERE IS MOM?

Too Tall and I get to see our bundle of joy and then they whisked Boy off to the workspace because he apparently swallowed some meconium.  He was quickly deemed ok and put his lungs to the test.  Unbeknownst to me, this is the conversation taking place outside in the hallway:
Mom:  listen to that baby crying. they must be having a busy night
Juju: ahh, sweet babies
Mom: (as they get closer to my room and continue to hear the crying) surely that can't be Amy Lou.  This is her first baby and it will take hours of labor
Mom and Juju: (walk in door. look around.  shock settles in).  You had a baby? 
Apparently the whole time I was worrying about where my Mom was, she was at home: getting dressed, doing her hair, applying make up.  Because first babies take forever.  (I had never been a conformist and no need to start then.)

That day was so full of emotions.  My baby arrived at 11:36 at night and we were kicked out of the hospital about 8:00pm the next night.  Not even a 24 hour stay.  We didn't have the car seat installed.  I didn't have my baby dressed in his going home outfit. But they wheeled me to the ER sliding glass door with the wind chill about 30 degrees, and a baby wrapped in a hospital blanket, to send me home.  I am lucky I didn't pop a stitch riding back to Paradise in the  backseat of the car, with a death grip on the car seat, begging God not to let my baby fall out of his rigged car seat.

And that's how Boy came into the world!

Eighteen years later:
Boy was not happy with me when I told him that he had a doctor's appointment to finish up one of his vaccine series on his birthday.  And even unhappier when I told him that we would need to leave about 8:30am to go get his DL renewed.  To soften the blow, I suggested that we make a day of it: breakfast, shopping, and lunch before he went out with his friends.  The great thing about having a kid a grown up in 2013, is the fact that you can document everything instantly through fb and instagram.  (back in 1995 you dropped off a roll of 35mm film at WalMart and waited 3-5 days for prints).  So in honor of the times, I am going to write less and post pics in celebration of the day my Baby turned 18.

His new license and with my urging he became a registered voter.  His
new license and voter registration card came in the mail yesterday.  Proud Momma!

We had a nutritious delicious breakfast!

When we arrived at the doctor's office, we were fortunate enough to get the last nurse left from our original pediatrician's staff.  I was so excited I teared up telling her Boy was 18.  She immediately handed the shot papers to him and told him he was legal to sign for himself.  Boy took the pen with pride and started signing and she gave him his first "grown up" lesson; always read what you are signing.  After looking it over, it was time for the shot.    I teared up once more when I talked to her about what our next steps were since they would no longer see him when he started college.  I thanked her for her years of looking after us and left with a little sadness gratitude in my heart. 

Boy took some of his Bday money and bought some new clothes.  I owed him
a pair of shoes from Christmas that didn't work out and he found some jackets
that he had been wanting.  Win. Win.

We couldn't go to Fort Worth and not stop and see Grandma.  She is the hostess with
the mostest.  It had not been that long since donuts, so we decided on some nachos for a
quick snack.  I did't want this to be about Papa not being there, and it wasn't.
We talked about how proud we are of Boy and that if he keeps making
good decisions, the sky is the limit.

When you are 18 and you have a sweet ride really nice car
that your generous Dad gave you, and you are going out for your Bday...
you wash it.  Actually Boy washes his car ALL THE TIME.  He
takes care of it and this car is in better shape then when he got it.  (Papa would
be proud!)

And when you were born with a camera in your face and you know
where to stand at any given moment to capture the moment, you know that
you are going to have to take ONE MORE picture with Mom before you are
cut loose to go out with friends.

Happy 18th year Boy!  You are my precious gift from above.  I don't deserve all of the joy you have brought into my life, but I am forever so grateful for it.  I look forward to watching you finish out your Senior Year in style!  Thank you for letting me spend the day with you, I couldn't ask for a better kid!

New Year? Nothing new to see here...

Well, we have turned the page on the calendar to 2013.   For most people this is a time of making resolutions, new beginnings,  setting goals, and looking ahead to opportunities that might present themselves throughout the year.   I have none of that.  That flip of  the calendar means doodly squat to me.  Zip. Zilch. Nothing.  The most pressing thing I am looking forward to is the Hospice Grief Counseling class that I will be attending the 2nd week of the month.  If I had to guess, I have rolled right on into the anger stage.  I don't like it here.  But here is where I seem to be. 

I am constantly beating myself up to remember all of the blessings I have in my life.  Like a hubby who takes me moment by moment.  Who continues to support whatever mood I am in and turns a blind eye to the massive amount of retail therapy I have brought into the house.  He often finds me crying in my chair at night and will ask, with love, if I know that my eye is leaking.  It's his loving way to cheer me up and let me know that he's here for me.  In fact, it has been his humor that has lightened the mood on several occassions.  For instance, at my district Christmas dinner a young boy was singing "Little Drummer Boy" with the voice of an angel, when I looked up and saw my BF smile and whisper "I love you", I started sobbing.  Not like quiet tears running down my face.  Full on shoulders heaving sobbing.  I couldn't stop.  I tried to stop.  People scrambled for napkins, kleenexes, shirt sleeves, anything to mop up the mess I was leaving on my face.  Hubby jumps right in to help by whispering, loud enough for the table to hear, "It's OK honey, he's just a little boy, it's really not that bad."  Which made me stop because this boy had a voice.  We all laughed at the ridiculousness that this young man sounded anything but amazing and the sobs subsided.   I cry a lot.  At anything.  Hubby and I spent the weekend at his Dad's (that's a whole other blog) and everytime my family was mentioned, I couldn't speak. Without choking back sobs.  It just happens.

I have mentioned in my previous blog that I am not getting out much unless I am with Mom, Juju or Hubby.  See above paragraph if you don't remember why.  I am trying to get past it.  I have a baby shower this weekend.  I can't commit to going.  My sweet friend understands.  She is a blog reader.  She has text me throughout.  I wish I could say that I could go.   What I fear happening would be showing up and the moment she hugged me... waterworks.  And not the pretty kind. 

I really don't know how long this will last.  At what point am I no longer within the realm of normal grieving.  Which is actually an oxymoron or some such literature device.  Grieving cannot be boxed into normal/abnormal/unnormal, etc...  We have to do it on our time, in our own way, while trying to put one foot in front of the other. 

So while everyone else may be turning the page on the calendar, coming up with a new workout regime designed to lose 10 lbs, promising to be nicer, go to church more, or whatever goals seem worthy, I am simply getting up, doing the best I can for my family and going to bed.  Repeat.