Everytime a Bell Rings

Last year, about six months after my brother died, my dad found out he had prostate cancer.  A little while after that my parents found out the person that owned the town home they have been living in, for the past fourteen years, passed away and they would be needing to move.  The family was going to sell the property.  A short time after that news, my parents' washing machine overflowed and flooded the bottom floor of the town home.  Because it was their washing machine that caused the problem, they had to take care of the clean up.  I was pretty worried about my mom's sanity at that point.  There were, of course, car problems along the way to be the cherry on top of their crappy ice cream sundae of a year. 

I didn't mention any of this on Facebook and only talked about it with a few friends.  First, Facebook, for me at least, is just a way to share fun.  I prefer not to be too serious, political, or bring anyone down while I'm on Facebook.  I'm not saying everyone should be like me.  It's just how I use Facebook.  Facebook has been a wonderful tool for staying in touch and re-connecting with friends and family!  I love that!  Second, it proved to be a useful tool when it was necessary to let friends know about my brother's death.  Everything about that chaos happened very quickly and I just couldn't call everyone that knew him or my family.

When it comes to the last year for my parents, well, I didn't feel it was my place to say anything about their struggles unless they asked me to.  My mom is on Facebook but rarely posts anything.  I also didn't say anything because I did not want the attention to ever be about me.  I wanted to say, "Hey everyone, please pray for my dad, that he would kick this cancer's butt," and "Pray for my mom, I think she's gonna lose it," but it just seemed like Facebook wasn't the right place to do that since I don't really want to post something so serious if it's not going to be taken seriously.  And by that I mean, followed up on, not just post that info and then people say I'm praying but never ask how life is going later.  I have cried about my brother to friends here and there.  And I've expressed that besides the loss of my brother, the hardest part has been the lack of acknowledgement about his death from people who knew him his whole life.  I know death isn't a fun subject and some have a harder time dealing with it than others.  It has just hurt to not hear from people that I thought I would have, more than I realized it would hurt.

I didn't want to say anything about my dad having cancer because I didn't want to cheapen how serious it was and how hard it was to know he got this news.  I had the "why God" moment but moved on from that quickly.  I know God knows what He's doing.  Even with death and cancer.  I was frustrated for sure.  Oh nice one God, he loses his son and now he has cancer.  Kick him while he's down why don't you?!  And while You're at it, why don't you pour lemon juice on his paper-cut with that whole 'you have to move' thing.  Geez God, take it easy!  I know You won't give my dad anything he can't handle but chill out!  We get it, my dad's a bad a$$!  (And then there's my mom's Ginger Rogers to my dad's Fred Astaire, she can do anything he can do, but backwards and in high heels.  My mom is a rock star.  My dad would agree.)

So here we are, Monday morning, my mom calls me a little after eight in the morning, which is not unusual.  She tells me today is my dad's last day of treatment.  Finally, after eight weeks, five days a week, he's at his last appointment.  She asks me to call my sister and then call the lady who works at the front desk so we can be put on speaker phone and cheer on my dad as he exits his last treatment.  I call Jocelyn, we call the office, she puts us on speaker phone and we hear my dad come out of treatment and ring the bell.  It's his graduation day!  That's what the staff calls it.  Oh that sweet ring!  Hallelujah indeed!  We are rejoicing.  I can barely get the woo hoos and yays out before I start crying.  Ding ding ding!  What a wonderful sound that bell made!  Thank you to Claire, the nice lady at the desk who made my dad's visits so effortless.  And thank you for putting my sister and I on speaker phone!  My dad doesn't hand out praise and compliments easily, at least not to people outside our family, but he could not say enough about Claire and his doctors and the rest of the staff.

Here I am sharing all this and I just said it wasn't my place to do so.  Well, I am justifying all this sharing because it's good news.  My dad will have to go back in thirty days to find out how his body is doing.  I'm not worried.  I really haven't been worried since he told me he had cancer.  My sadness and worry have solely been about the fact that I couldn't be by his side to give him a hug when he needed it or to make dinner for my parents when they were exhausted.  I have told my parents that I have never felt so helpless in my entire life.  I know my plate is pretty full with a seven year old and an almost nine month old.  It doesn't lessen my desire to be there for my family when they need me. 

Now my parents are about to be homeowners for the first time in their lives!  I will admit I wanted them to move to Minnesota so they could enjoy their grand-kids more but there was just no way for that to happen.  So instead I am taking delight in the joy they are finding in being homeowners.  (They have been raking leaves like crazy!)

Maybe I should have shared my dad's diagnosis when it first came to light.  Maybe he would have gotten more of the support he needed.  I can't start regretting that decision now.  I'm sharing now in the hope that prayers are offered up for my dad to be cancer free and for my parents' move to be smooth.  I know there will be other struggles for my parents, for my sister, friends, and me.  I also have faith God will get us through those rough spots.  Knowing God doesn't mean you don't have bad things happen to you.  Bad things will always happen but having faith means knowing that God will be with you through those things and you will come out on the other side.  If He brings you to it, He will bring you through it.  Cliche, I know, but it's true.  My family is living proof of it.

I Mustache You to Look

My friend, Kendra, tagged me in a Facebook post the other day.  I was supposed to take a picture of myself with no makeup on and post it in the name of finding a cure for cancer.  I have no problem taking a picture of myself without makeup, but I just forgot to do it.  Today, as I was getting dressed to run an errand, I remembered the no makeup picture and thought, "I will gladly not put makeup on even though I am leaving the house to be seen in public.  It's exhausting getting prettied some days.  But I don't like to just snap a picture without thinking about it.  I'm a photographer after all.  So I went about my business and waited for inspiration.  I went to Target.  I got coffee.  I pulled out my adorable crocheted koozie I bought on Etsy and wrapped it around my coffee.  It works so much better than the cardboard ones!  I'm saving the planet and supporting a small business by spending money on Etsy!  Yay me!  I get my groceries and keep walking through Target, who knows what deal I might find, it's called boosting the economy.  Duh.

I get to the baby section.  It's like the coffee felt this was its opportunity to be free, it leaped from my hand and plummeted to the floor.  I reacted and jumped back so it wouldn't splash all over me.  Rats, barely had a gulp and it was gone.  Spilled on my koozie, my new handmade koozie.  And I happen to be in the only place that's carpeted in Target.  It's bad.  It's really bad.  It looks like something died on the carpet.  I pick up my cup and find a trash can.  There happens to be paper towels by the can for spills.  But this is carpet I've spilled on, I'm not doing much good.  I think two women saw me spill.  I can't just bolt out of Target.  I make sure those women see me trying to clean up.  At least they won't judge me too harshly.  Now what.  Do I call someone over?  Do I find an employee and blame someone else.  Why do I feel like a criminal?  I've never spilled anything in a store in my life.  I'm really embarrassed.  I'm bummed about my coffee and my koozie. 

I make my way to the checkout lane.  I tell the lady who's ringing my stuff up that I spilled in the back of the store.  She lets another employee know who is able to go inspect the damage. 
She asks, "Is it bad?"
I timidly reply, "Yea, it's on the carpet.  I tried to soak up what I could with paper towels.  I'm so sorry, I've never spilled anything in a store." 
The employee is so nice, she says, "It's okay.  Actually, thank you for telling us, no one ever does that."
I am surprised by this and reply, "Well, you've got me on camera, so it's not like I could deny it!"
We all laugh.  I am still embarrassed but I feel that I am maintaining my dignity by fessing up.

I pay for my items and head back to get another coffee, my money is ready.  The barista sees me coming and looks puzzled.  I tell him I spilled my coffee.  He makes me another one and doesn't charge me!  I am so grateful.  He tells me it's no big deal, it was an accident.  He explains how some customers come in during the morning and come back at the end of the day trying to get a free refill by saying they spilled their coffee.  What?!  Why?!  Who would do that?!  I show him my sad coffee stained koozie.  We chat for a moment about our love of Etsy, I thank him, I'm on my way.

I put Jack in the car, load up my groceries, I'm ready to go.  Oh wait, here's my chance for a no makeup selfie!  This week has been hard ( I won't go into that part), I spilled coffee, embarrassed myself, my new koozie is stained, and it's starting to snow.  Why would I take a picture right now?

I'll tell you why.  Because I have a working car that got me to the store.  I have just enough money to cover a frivolous frou frou coffee and my groceries.  I can clean the koozie and it will still work even if it's stained.  And I do not look hideous without makeup.  Some days it's harder than others to find joy, but you still have to look.

Permission to Fail

12/6/2013 around 9am

Today I'm giving myself permission to fail.  I fail all the time but I feel the guilt that goes along with it.  Today I'm going to ignore the guilt.  Jack will not care that I didn't decorate the house for Christmas.  Rylee will be happy when the tree is finally put up.  I'm not going to make excuses as to why I didn't accomplish the things I wanted to accomplish.  I'm going to make sure my family is fed and that will have to be it for the day.  I'm sick of feeling like a failure because I'm not exercising, cleaning, crafting masterpieces, socializing, running a charity, or running a marathon.  I don't sleep normal hours, I haven't for over a year.  

I'll have to finish this thought later, Jack is crying and needs to be changed and fed.

 

(Never got back to finishing that thought.  Fail.)

12/10/2013 between 6pm and 7pm

Need to clean the kitchen so I have counter space to prepare dinner.  Jack won't settle down, cleaning is on hold.  Twenty minutes later Jack finally goes down.  Quick clean!  Done, for the most part, still can't see the dining room table.  Oh well, quick, make the dinner!  Get the bath ready for the kids.  Tub needs a quick scrub.  Rylee undresses Jack, he screams the whole time.  I pick him up, he's fine.  Bath time, at least until the timer goes off.  Start washing Jack, John is calling.  Got the last copy of Despicable Me 2 with Minion toys in the south metro area, great job honey.  Back to the bath.  Timer is about to go off.  Get Jack out of bath, turn on shower to rinse all his hair.  Shower head twists, floor is wet, my right side is soaking, Jack is screaming now and squirming.  Now my front is soaked from holding him while trying to grab my towel because I forgot his.  Instruct Rylee to wash and condition her hair.  She can handle it, she's done it before.  Trying to dry off Jack while he reaches another octave.  Harley the cat is meowing and pacing in Jack's room.  His crying is freaking her out.  My ears are about to bleed.  Timer is probably going off, I can't actually hear it over Jack.  Set him in his crib.  Get Harley out of Jack's room, shut the door.  

Yup timer is beeping.  Jack is screaming.  Rylee is calling for me.  She can't open the shampoo.  She already used conditioner.  There's a pile up of it and she needs help rinsing.  Apparently I needed to instruct her again, she can't handle it.  Hold on Rylee, just get under the water.  Pull dinner out of the oven.  Make a bottle for Jack.  Harley is reaching under Jack's door meowing and thinking she can help him.  Get Jack out of crib.  Prop Jack up in the chair with bottle.  Rinse Rylee's hair out.  Put bottle back in Jack's mouth.  Get Rylee's plate ready.  Crap, I didn't make a vegetable.  I suck as a mother.  Put the bottle back in Jack's mouth.  Phone is buzzing with multiple texts.  Get my food, cut up my chicken for easy and fast consumption while holding the unappeasable Jack.  Eat while plate is balancing on lap.  Chicken is gone in 72 seconds.  Home Alone is on, fine, dinner and a movie for Rylee it is.  Burp Jack.  John is home.  I haven't showered. Type this whole thing on my iPod with one hand while holding Jack as he falls asleep.  Hand over to John to read so he doesn't think I'm just cranky.  I can't form words with my mouth at this point.  

Thoughts about other things I've failed at start rushing in.  I haven't made a Christmas card.  I really wanted to do that this year and time is flying by.  New Year card perhaps?  The basement is a mess.  I wanted to make Christmas presents with Rylee.  Can't keep up.  My bedroom closet is a mess.  I can organize so well.  Why can't I maintain it?!  Tree still isn't decorated.  What about Christmas cookies?  Rylee is really looking forward to making Christmas cookies.  I really need to clean the kitchen table.  Rylee hasn't done her reading homework for the night.  I guess we'll worry about that in the morning.  Why am I writing when I have so much to do?  I have no energy.  Is is still okay to sleep when Jack is sleeping during the day?  I do have to get up in the middle of the night and really early in the morning, I need sleep right?  I don't get to go out with friends for cocktails and a movie.  I guess I'll eat what I want because that makes me happy.  I am gaining weight, I guess I can't eat what I want.  I need to exercise.  When?  Don't make excuses.  Something always gets in the way.  Now it's sub-zero temps outside, walking is just not going to happen.  Go to a mall and walk.  Then you have pack everything for Jack.  Lift the stroller into the car.  Get the stroller out of the car.  Your back will go out again.  But if you exercise it will help your back.  Oh my God, I think I'll just go lay down now.  Oh how soon we forget about giving ourselves permission to fail.  Or was that permission only for one day?

Oh super, the Victoria's Secret fashion show is on tonight.  I don't want to fall into complete and utter despair, so I won't be watching that.

Honing My Craft

My back has been seriously messed up for over a week.  I can't rest like I need to because I have a baby to take care of.  I have to pick him up to feed him and change his diaper.  Darn kid won't take care of himself.  He's almost four months old, shouldn't he be able to handle life by now?  On top of the bad back, I got sick.  My throat is sore.  The next phase always consists of my voice getting dark and seedy.  If I could sing, I'd give Janis Joplin a run for her money.  My mom was checking up on me today.

The text message went like this...

Mom:  How r u doing today?

Me:  Let's just say I sound like an ex Vaudeville dancer who fell on hard times after and injury and was reduced to performing in a smokey gin joint until she was forced into a retirement community in Boca Raton where she regales her neighbors with stories of the good old days when Morty said she was gonna be a star.

She then proceeded to ask if I had considered being a stand up comedian when the kids are older and fairly self-sufficient.  Flattered, I responded the obvious fact that she and my dad, and possibly my Aunt Rita, are the only ones I can make laugh on a consistent basis.

I also reminded her of my life scarring incident in junior high where I was to perform a scene from the Crucible with three classmates in front of the entire school.  I was to embody Danforth and recite complex line after complex line.  Needless to say, the scene did not end with a triumphant applause while my fellow players and I took a bow.  No, I got a few lines in, scanned the dark auditorium with my eyes, and froze.  My mind was erased like and Etch-a-Sketch.  I exited stage right with most haste, proceeded to plow through the backstage like Jared Allen headed for a quarterback, and lock myself in the bathroom.  It was as bad as you might be imagining.  My mom took off work that day to see me perform.  She came backstage and coaxed me out of the locked bathroom to calm me down.  She had to go back to work, and I had to face my befuddled classmates.  My teacher, Mrs. Crabtree, hugged me and assured me it happens to all great actors, but the important thing was to play on!  I never attempted acting again.  I figured I was best suited for a behind the scenes supporting role.  I learned lighting in high school, helped with a few productions, and left it at that.  I let my friends entertain the audience and reap all the glory.  

I'm a parent now.  I've watched Rylee freeze in front of an audience during a preschool performance.  She was a pumpkin, she was amazing during rehearsals (as the teacher told us) but all those eyes proved to be overwhelming and she ran to my arms crying.  After two more holiday performances she got over her stage fright.  She's a ham now and doesn't seem to mind the attention.  I knew she'd get past the scariness of being in front of people, but it would take practice.  She also started this process a lot earlier than I did.

I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't run off the stage?

Cool thing about parents, the good ones, they can always see you doing so much more in life than you can see yourself doing.  They want you to find a passion and follow it.  They don't want you to just get by, they want you to take over the world.  They never think it's too late to pursue a dream.  They want you to be responsible of course, but they've got your back.  You want your kids to be more than you were.  I want Rylee to be the best at what ever she chooses to do with her life.  If all that she ends up doing is working at a fast food place, then I hope she's happy, and gets employee of the month every month.  Would I prefer she do more?  Of course!  I want her to change lives, make the world a better place, be the best person she can be.  But a person working at a fast food place is just as capable of making the world a better place as a person on the Fortune 500 list. 

Here's an example:  His Mama Raised Him Right

My mom knows I'm capable of a whole lot.  I know I am too.  Right now I'm perfecting the art of being a mom.  I'm honing those skills that enable me to love, encourage, discipline, be patient, and have fun when I'm exhausted.  I learned how to be a mom from the best.  My mom doesn't always see how much she's capable of, but she taught me how to see that in other people, just like she sees that in me.  Rylee will do the same thing, or at least that's what I can hope for.

After my mom reads this, she'll probably tell me I should write a book.

Life is Full of Awesome

My emotions may be getting the better of me as I am nearing the end of my pregnancy.  I am torn between trying to savor the feelings of being pregnant for the last time and wishing it was over with already.  I am content with having two kids.  I am not okay with being pregnant any longer.  It takes a toll on my body that I just never fathomed.  That's not to say it's like that for everyone, so please don't let my pity party prevent you from getting knocked up if that is what you desire.

One week to go and Jack will be here!

I have been without decent sleep for months.  I am so blessed to not have to go sit in a cubicle all day in the midst of this gestational torture.  I asked God over and over again to bless me with another baby, so I try really hard not to complain about my lack of energy and constant aches.  I will admit, I have on occasion called and whined to my mom.  If I couldn't do that, I wouldn't have made it this far.  She's my mom, she's sympathizes when I need it, that's part of her job.  I've cried to my husband too of course.  He's been, as cliche as it sounds, my rock.  He's done so much around the house and not forgotten to tell me how it will all be okay.

In the midst of the most emotional year of my life, I have been blessed so many times, I've lost count.  Between friends coming to visit Minnesota for no other reason than to be with me after my brother passed away and receiving countless gifts for a baby who hasn't been born yet, I have been overwhelmed by it all.  The way friends have expressed how happy they are for my family has had the greatest impact on me by far.  The gifts are wonderful, but the support is what has sent me into tears over and over again.  Yes, I've got the hormones running a marathon through my veins, but these tears have come from a thankful heart.

The latest package received in the mail wasn't for Jack, it was for me.  It was a mesh-mash of stuff that had my name written all over it.  Though the presents were fun, the note that accompanied it did me in.  Sometimes it's hard to wrap your brain around how you so effortlessly became friends with someone in the first place, but you are so thankful you did.

My friend JoAnna, or as I like to call her, JoAwesome, is someone I met through my previous job in insurance.  We met in Boston during the most boring training ever.  When we started to chat I knew instantly she was the kind of woman I could rely on if my bra strap broke in public.  I told her this right away.  If it happened, I don't know how we would fix it, but she would be the one to turn to.  I think her wheezing laugh is what cemented my love for her.  She thought I was funny and I thought the same of her.  The emails exchanged during training had me biting my tongue on more than one occasion so as not to burst into hysterical laughter.  I know I had to excuse myself to the restroom at least once so I would have an accident.  Good times, good times.

We asked for a "Boston" drink, the bartender gave us "The Green Monster."

And as if I didn't already adore her, she took her awesomeness to another level when we had a free night to roam the streets of Boston.  We ate delicious food, had some drinks, and took pictures.  These pictures were not just any pictures though, she took my kind of pictures.  Taking pictures of funny things is at the top of our tourist list.

This is why we are friends.

The day before my 30th birthday we had a meeting so I got to see JoAwesome for an hour or so. 
Just enough to keep me going until the next time.

When the trip had to end, we took a cab ride to the airport.  We crammed in the backseat with more people than I think was actually allowed and proceeded to pray the whole way through our nervous laughter.  See, we got the cab driver that you thought only existed in movies.  The man was dodging and weaving but never seemed to break.  I think we needed to get to the airport in a hurry, but not as much of a hurry as he seemed to think we needed.  It may be my imagination, but I could have sworn people were jumping out of the way on a sidewalk and pigeons parted like the Red Sea as he blared his horn in hopes for a big tip.  I think the tears flowing during our laughter were welling up from regret that we had not called our loved ones before getting in his cab.  We made it through our harrowing experience with nothing but emotional scars.

After a fun trip like that, work was never the same.  We were on a "new friendship" high.  We were a long distance support system via email.  We relived our time in Boston through funny pictures and retelling exaggerated highlights.

Another meeting.  Tiny sombreros were optional, but not for us. 
When you see a tiny sombrero, you wear a tiny sombrero.

We got to see each other for a few moments during meetings, but it was not enough time to make memories like those we achieved in Boston.  Never the less, our friendship has grown.  Life has brought us each some sadness but also immeasurable blessings.

Louis is just one of those kids you fall in love with instantly.

I was so proud of JoAwesome when she quit smoking and reached her year anniversary of doing so.  I wrote her a ridiculous poem and had another friend show up at her office and read it to her.  I squealed and cried as I scrolled through a power point presentation she made to announce she was pregnant.  (I forgot to mention her amazing talent for power point slide shows.  They were, by far, the highlight of my work day when I had the privilege to receive them.)  I was so excited to finally meet JoAwesome's ADORABLE son, Louis, when she came to the KC Zoo while I was in town for my high school reunion.

This kid was born awesome.

Rylee managed to con JoAwesome into buying her a penguin.

The moment I felt friendship in a way I had never experienced was at my brother's memorial service.  JoAwesome had never met my brother, but she came to the service for me.  It was a moment I realized I didn't have to have the right words to say.  Saying thank you was all that I knew how to do.  Sometimes you just have to accept someone loving you even if you have nothing in return.
 

We are so hot.  No really, it was really hot that day.

And that's where I've been these last months with all the packages I've received.  I am overwhelmed by the excitement people are feeling for me, for my family.  I can and will send thank you notes, but they just don't do justice conveying what I feel.

We Met on Our Bikes

Happy Birthday Lisa!  This is a day early because something happened today that I had to share.   

Well, it has actually been building up to today.  Rylee's BFF at school, Madeline, has a birthday 

today.  Rylee had me mark this on the calendar about two weeks ago.  Last week she picked out 

a few presents to give her friend.  And yesterday morning she picked out what she would wear on 

Madeline's bday.  Her shirt says something about friends on it.  She wore this same shirt on their 

first play date some months ago.  Out of the few things Rylee picked out for Madeline, the one she 

was most excited to give her was the "Best Friends Forever" necklace from Claire's.  She didn't 

even want to wait until she got to school; she said she wanted to give it to her on the bus.  I could 

actually see Rylee opening her backpack to retrieve the inexpensive treasure as her bus pulled away 

this morning.  I smiled because my heart was so happy to see my daughter starting to enjoy giving.   

I'm not delusional, she's six, and she’s all about receiving gifts.  I just couldn't help but be excited at 

the joy she was experiencing over thinking about someone besides herself or someone in her family.   

She notices things she wants to buy for other people more and more.  Granted, she's not forking over 

the money, and we have to say no often, but it's the thought that counts!  

Before my sixth grade "graduation".  Lisa sat through the absurdity, then we went to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch!

All this to say, I realized the first person, other than a family member, I was excited about giving 

presents to and making cards for was Lisa.  We grew up across the street from each other.  Her older 

brothers babysat my siblings and me.  We swam together, built forts, watched the Monkees, stuck up 

for each other, wrote letters to each other even when we lived just across the street, and also when Lisa 

moved away.  Lisa was happy to let me do her chores, because to me, feeding her farm animals was 

new and exciting.  For Lisa it was avoiding a monotonous task she had to complete daily.  She 

introduced me to pomegranates and kumquats, they grew in her backyard.   I also enjoyed one soda 

a week on Saturdays thanks to her mom, Sue.  Sue also prepared us the most amazing after-swim-meet 

breakfasts.  Sue can cook a mean waffle.  

Lisa was a grade ahead of me and when she moved away, I was devastated.  I didn't know how I would 

make it in Jr. High without her.  I did it, but it wasn't easy.  I visited Lisa every chance I got.   

She moved to a place where it snowed and we took advantage of sledding in the great outdoors.   

Time passed and the letters dissipated.  Then I moved even farther away, to another state and it got 

harder to maintain our friendship.  We were learning how to navigate high school, boys, 

peer pressure, life.  We were figuring out who we were and that takes a lot of time and energy.  When 

I visited California I would see Lisa and marvel at how much she changed.  She got so tall!  But for all 

the changing we were doing, going from girls to young women, Lisa didn't stop being my friend.   

The girl I grew up with was still there, thank goodness.  Now we talk once or twice a year.  We live in 

different states and far from where we grew up.  We both married men named John and we both have 

beautiful girls of our own.  We've experienced significant loss but know God has a plan for us.  We 

know we aren't each others BFFs anymore and that's okay.  We're still friends and love each other.   

It's the sweetest end to an era when it fades but doesn't leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

 
Lisa, Me, Dave (the eldest bro)  See, Lisa got way taller!

 I still have the half of my “Best Friend Forever” necklace that Lisa gave me. I don't remember when 

she gave it to me.  I don't remember if it was for a birthday or Christmas or when she moved.  It really 

doesn't matter.  It’s one of my prized possessions.  I still have the card she made me when I got the 

chicken pox, also a prized possession.  I cherish the fact she came to my wedding, and regret I couldn't 

make it to hers. No matter what, I had an amazing childhood and one of the biggest parts of that was 

because of Lisa.  I know my daughter may not have this current BFF, Madeline, forever, but her 

memories are starting now.  She's learning what it means to be a friend.  I'm glad I had someone like 

Lisa to help me learn how to be a friend. 

 

 

She Still Teaches

I sat around a lot today.  A lot.  I watched Rylee play at a birthday party.  I watched Rylee play at a park.  I watched Rylee draw while we waited for John to do something at work.  I sat in the car while John took Rylee into a store so she could pick out a Mother's Day gift for me.  I sat around a lot today.  By the end of the day I was spent.  Sitting shouldn't make you tired, well it can whether you're 27 weeks pregnant or not.  If your brain isn't being stimulated, your whole body gets pooped.  I wasn't angry about my day, a little frustrated, but not angry.  Of course I would rather have been doing something a little more fun than waiting on everyone else.  I wait on my husband and kid most days now.  It's part of my life.  I'm not complaining, just acknowledging a fact.  When you are a stay at home mom, without the luxury of extreme wealth, you realize your job is your family.  It's not a chore, it's privilege.  You have to remind yourself of that fact sometimes. 

My mom pregnant with me, Jessica the Magnificent.

There are lots of moms out there who would rather stay at home to be with their kids.  Some are married, but still have to work.  I was there, I did that.  Some moms are on their own and working more than one job.  I cannot conceive how hard that must be for them.  I try to think of them on the days I want to get away from my kid.  I love my daughter, obviously, but if your entire day consisted of the company of only a six-year old, you might find yourself talking to strangers at the grocery store more often than is probably normal. 

Brand new mama, October 1978

I am now in a position where John and I are making life work without me having to actually go to work.  My mom stayed at home with my sister, brother, and I for a long time.  I have no complaints about my childhood.  It seemed pretty fun to me.  Here I am, on some days, exhausted by my one daughter, and I stop and think about my mom.  She had three to look after.  Granted, when there are multiple kids, they do a great job of occupying each other.  But there are moments when kids need something more.  For my siblings and I, it was water.  We were either in the pool or at the beach.  My mom watched three kids at the pool or at the beach a lot.  Sometimes more than three kids, if one of us brought a friend along.  Snacks, sunscreen, toys, sandy butts, tar covered toes, seagulls, towels blowing away, sunburns.  How did she do that without losing her mind?!  

I'm sure I never cried, and was always an angel.

I know I went through a phase where I could not sleep when it was bed time.  I would sneak and try to watch TV through this triangular shaped whole that was on our stairs.  I have no way to explain what that looked like, but I can tell you I was good at not getting caught.  The few times my parents did catch me I couldn't understand why they got so mad at me for being out of bed.  Sheesh, can't a girl watch a little Carson before bed?!  Yea, I get it now.  I get the yelling, "Back to bed now!"  Dad worked a hard day at the Gas Company.  Mom put up with our shenanigans all day, they wanted us to go away.  And then mom went back to work full-time after Caleb was in school.  How the hell did she do that?!  I still can't figure it out.  Now I understand the urgency in which my parents left for a weekend retreat with our church.  I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure they skipped to the car while we were inside crying with a baby sitter.  And I swear the tires peeled out of the drive way as they left the house.

I have been so blessed to have so many amazing women in my life, who at one point or another have been there for me as if they were my own mom.  Those moms know who they are.  Over the years they may have received a mother's day card or two from me.  It's not out of obligation that I send them a card, but out of love and thanks for the love they have given me in their own unique way.

My mom, however, is the mom I admire most.  She's the mom I strive to be.  I remember being in the check-out line at a grocery store and watching my mom strike up a conversation with a stranger.  A seed was planted.  If my mom can laugh with a perfect stranger, so can I.  I have made friends this way.  Rylee sees me talk and laugh with strangers now.  Sometimes she asks if I know them as we are headed to the car.  I tell her no, but it's okay because that's how you meet people.  I tell her that if she's with me it's okay to talk to strangers, because you never know, you might be blessing them, or they might bless you.  My mom taught me friendship. 

October 2005

My mom has faced many struggles in her life.  Many of those she faced while being a mom.  Through all of those "character building" moments, my mom never stopped being there for me.  During many of the difficult things she was going through, I was too young to understand she could have used a break from us kids.  She didn't stop being my mom just because she was sad, upset, angry, hurt, or grieving.  The hardest thing about my brother's recent passing is seeing the hurt it has caused my parents.  I am a mom now.  I don't want to experience the pain my mom has experienced due to losing a child.  The past months my whole family has grieved in different ways.  I am now realizing I have put some of my grieving on hold, and I believe it's because I have had no choice.  I can't tell my daughter to go away because I want to lay in bed and not do anything.  I can't schedule a weekend where I send my daughter off to her aunt's so I can plan on grieving.  It doesn't work that way, I don't operate like that.  My mom has still been there for me when I have need to cry or vent or laugh, even in the midst of her own grief.

My mom taught me grace.

Three Generations

I don't remember the year, but I remember the gift.  There was a Mother's Day when my dad took us kids to pick something out for our mom.  I don't know what store we went to, but it was something like JCPenney's.  There it was, on a round display table with 100 other jewels just like it.  A "Genuine Austrian Crystal" clad heart-shaped pendant.  It sparkled like the Hope Diamond.  I had no idea what the Hope Diamond was back then, but now I know the cheap glass jewelry we saw was better than any real precious stone in the whole world.  "Dad, this is it!  This is what we want to get her!  Please Dad!  Pleeeeaaaasseeee!!!"  I don't remember if he hesitated, I don't remember what it cost, it doesn't matter, Dad paid for it.  It was probably $16.99, which to us was incredibly expensive because we had no concept of money.  And because we thought it was incredibly expensive, it made the present for mom that much more exciting.  Surely she would gasp, she would faint, she'd regain consciousness and cry tears of joy.  She'd hold us in her arms weeping over our generosity and impeccable taste.  Was is too much to think she might never make us do chores again?  One could hope!  But we didn't let ourselves get ahead of ourselves.  After all, this was mom's special day.  We couldn't think about our selfish dreams of not having to actually pick up after ourselves.  Do I remember the moment we gave it to her?  Nope, nothing.  Where is that "Genuine Austrian Crystal" clad heart-shaped pendant you ask?  In her jewelry box, missing several "Genuine Austrian Crystals", but it's still around.  

An Original Masterpiece by Rylee Roemer - May 11, 2013

My best Mother's Day memory as a mom, so far, was when Rylee walked a card over to me from across our living room.  She had just started walking so it was a very big deal.  I cried the happiest tears you can think of.  She's six now and this is the second year she has been excited to get me something.  Last year she set out to find me a necklace that had MOM and a heart on it.  John said she was waiting to find the right necklace.  She found one, and I love it.  I really do wear it.  It's after midnight as I finish writing this, now Mother's Day, so I don't know what she got for me yet, but it doesn't matter, I know I'll love it.  The thing that is making me so happy right now is that she is learning to read and write.  She has an amazing and detailed imagination.  When she is left to her own devices, she draws the cutest things and has the best stories to go with them.  In the midst of all that waiting I did today, Rylee surprised me with a drawing that brought me to tears.  The picture above is her giving me my Mother's Day gift and she drew me with a surprised face.  She didn't have to explain the picture, it's obvious what she was trying to convey.  And the words, "Happy Mother's Day" aren't perfectly spelled, but she's doing exactly what she should be doing, trying.  The "I love my mom", well, no words are necessary to explain how precious that is to me.

My mom taught me how to be a mom.

April 2013