Keeping it Real

So many blogs I read suffer from excessive sappiness. They convey to all of blogdom the illusion that the writer's life is one filled with raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, and bright yellow packages tied up with string. In other words, perfection. I know better. I know that even the most gallant husband occasionally farts in bed. I know that kids screw up - sometimes badly - and then argue that you're the idiot. I know that a mother's heart doesn't always swell with pride - sometimes it breaks into pieces. I know that money doesn't grow on trees, and that hard work doesn't always pay off.

You may have noticed that this blog has been dark as of late. The last few months have been a bit rough, and I've struggled with what to write when everything isn't rosey. Sister Mary Patrick's words from 2nd grade haunt me: "If you can't say something nice don't say anything." Some of you have asked what has happened to the blog, and I've claimed to be too damn busy, which is partially true. The rest of the truth is that I'm worried that you really don't want to hear me whining about my problems. But this is where we are right now, so I'm choosing to occasionally expose a bit of what is real. It may be ugly. And even stinky. Here are the facts:

• The job that Al took in August lasted about two months. It was not a good fit, so he quit and has been a stay-at-home dad since. Al has been traveling through some dark days. Walking alongside him has not been fun. Some days I don't want to do it.
• Brent still doesn't have a steady job. Though he is amazingly able to get by on nearly nothing and can tolerate conditions that most of us wouldn't, I worry about his future.
• I found out on Thanksgiving that I'm going to be a grandmother!! Darrin and McKenna are expecting in July, and I couldn't be happier! But McKenna has been so sick, and I feel so helpless to know what to do for her. I just pray the cloud lifts for her soon.
• David's enlistment date has been moved up by 2 months to January 23. He's decided he needs to cram in all the partying he can in his remaining days of freedom, and that has led to some conflict at our house. Hearing the garage door open every night at 4 a.m. doesn't give me a very good night's sleep, so I'm a little cranky at times.
• Hannah, who is almost a dream child, is sensitive to all of this. It breaks my heart to see her cry when carelessly-chosen words are spoken.
• Work is as demanding as ever - maybe moreso. 10-12 hour days are the norm, and being a boss means not every decision I make is popular. The hospital has become the safety net for every social ill, and I worry about the safety of my nurses sometimes. Being the sole bread-winner has its own set of stressors, but I am genuinely thankful that I have a job at a time when many people do not.
• Food is my drug of choice, and I've be using it a lot more as the stress level has been higher. I've packed about 15 pounds onto my already pudgy frame, resulting in my highest nonpregnant weight ever. Ugh.

Those are the things I can share. There are other things that I will not share in case I decide to run for President someday. My theme for 2012 is Victory (see yesterday's post.) Victory implies a battle. Battles are hard, and dangerous, and scary. But therecan be no victory without a battle. So into the battle we go - sometimes unwillingly; sometimes nervously; sometimes scared out of our minds; and sometimes with hopeful enthusiasm. I'm trying to make it the latter.

Public Service Announcement

Attention all God-fearing men...please add this to the list of questions you should NEVER ask a woman:

"Did you put on some of that fake tanning stuff, or are your feet just dirty?"

Seriously. I cannot make this stuff up.

You Can Lead a Horse to Water (or Reflections on Why I May Be a Control Freak)

Certain male members of my family accuse me of being a control freak. I prefer to think of myself as organized and wanting nothing but the best for the people I love. They don’t always see it that way.

Take today. I had a great idea to attend an event that would be encouraging and uplifting, imparting wisdom and opening our minds to wonderful truths. What’s not to love about such an opportunity? When I shared my great idea, it was met with a fair amount of resistance, with words that I prefer not to post in a public forum. It was then that I realized once again an immutable truth was at work…namely that some men reject any idea, no matter how good, that comes from the mouth of their wife or mother. I know this truth; I’ve experienced it too many times to count. Why is it I never learn that the only way to entice some people to do what is good is to make them think it is their idea???

I was contemplating this question in the shower (which is where I do my best thinking) when the horse analogy occurred to me. You see, I’m a nurse (stick with me here!) Specifically, I spent the majority of my career as a critical care nurse. I save lives. Many of the lives I’ve had a part in saving have gotten into their dire situations through some choice they have made to eat too much or too little, smoke, drink too much, drive too fast, engage in careless or reckless behavior….the list is nearly endless.

Here is where the horse analogy fits….at the hospital we force the horse to drink. These people are led to the water (a hospital) where we promptly do the equivalent of anesthetizing them, sliding a tube down their throat, and pouring water into their stomachs thereby saving their sorry butts from the consequences of their actions, at least temporarily. The hope is that they are enlightened to change their choices and go on to live long and prosper. Sometimes it works; often it doesn’t and they go right back to the behavior that brought them to the water in the first place.

Upon this grand insight, I asked God why is it that some people are so closed to great ideas (mine or anyone else’s.) And He brought this scripture to mind:

He [Jesus] replied, “This one can come out only by prayer.” Mk 9:29

Jesus was telling his disciples that sometimes they will make no impact through eloquent or persuasive words, through works of their hands or mighty intellect. Sometime the only thing that will work is prayer. Which, then, begs the question “Why isn’t that where I start??”

I suspect that is the topic of another shower.

September 11, 2010

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard the news of the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. I was teaching a group of newly hired nurses at Mercy Medical Center. It was the second day of their employment, and I had just introduced myself and outlined the plan for the next four days of classes. It was a routine I had performed many times before. According to the itinerary, I had just introduced the first speaker of the day and shortly after 9 a.m. I walked up to our IT department, where I would confer with the computer trainer who would be spending the afternoon with the group. We always reviewed the attendance roster so that she could prepare the new employee logins. As I entered the cubicle-filled room, there was loud chatter from the usually quiet group. I asked if I had missed the invitation to the party. "The World Trade Center has been bombed" someone in the group told me. Shocked, I looked to see that several people were streaming live newscasts on their computers. Looking over shoulders, I watched the smoke billow from the first tower as together we saw the second plane cross the field of vision, then disappear. It took a few moments before we realized what had happened.

At some point I remembered my room full of new employees. I returned to the room, watched as the speaker finished, and prepared to dismiss the group for the morning break. I struggled with whether to break their concentration with the news. Would the rest of the day be lost in a wave of distraction? What if the US were under some big attack? Didn't they have a right to know? I decided to give them what sketchy information I had. "You need to know that in just the past few minutes I've learned that there has been some sort of attack on the World Trade Center in New York. I don't really know any details. We have a 15 minute break and there is a television in McDonalds just down the hall." One of the women in the group cried out, "My son just finished Marine boot camp. Oh my god, we're at war!" and she ran from the room.

The rest of the day and week is a blur of images and impressions, but those few minutes are crystal clear in my memory. I asked Hannah today if she remembers anything from that day. She was 4 years old, and though we tried hard not to, apparently Al and I watched enough television and conveyed enough fear that she slept in our bed for several nights. Today, she doesn't remember any of it.

For a few years, each September 11 brought a bit of nervousness as rumors of terrorist activities circulated. Now, nine years later, it seems that things are pretty much business as usual. The BIG Iowa vs. Iowa State game was the news of the day, and the families of Hannah's fall softball team had our own tailgating party during a break, circling a generator-powered big screen TV that one of the dads provided. Aside from the flag flying at half-mast at the softball field, there was no mention of that infamous day.

These little girls are playing in the shadow of the flag pole, completely unaware of the meaning behind the flag's position. They weren't even born yet in 2001.

Most of the girls playing their games today have little or no memory of September 11, 2001. The flag was a quiet reminder to the rest of us who vividly remember that day.
















And as a reminder that fall is nearing, I caught this photo of these children playing in a freshly harvested field. Though the sun was out, the wind was cool today. It reminded me very much of this day 9 years ago.

The laughter of our children reminds us that life goes on and even the painful memories of the worst tragedies fade in our memories over time.  May God continue to pour his blessings upon America. And may America never cease to be one nation, under God.

The Airing of the Grievances

My brother-in-law, Dan, has made sarcasm an art form. Last week he introduced me to a holiday I had missed while I was changing diapers in the Seinfeld era - Festivas. If you missed it like I did, here is a summary.



I was particularly attracted to one tradition of this fine holiday - the annual Airing of the Grievances. "This is it!" I thought. "The solution to the 'Bah Humbug' that overtakes me each Christmas!" So I've decided to give it a try. Who knows - perhaps it will become an annual December 26 tradition....

1. Al, I love you honey, but please cease with the Office Depot clearance gifts. At least take the price tag off so I don't know you paid less than a dollar for a Christmas gift. For pete's sake, it costs more to wrap the dang thing!
2. Kids, show a little gratitude, will you? If you hate something I give you, simply smile, say "Thank you, Mom!" and return it for something you like. Lie and tell me how much you love it, but that you'd prefer one in a different color, or a different size, or a different language.
3. And while I'm addressing the kids, it wouldn't hurt you to pitch in a little and help with the preparations. If you hadn't noticed, putting together the Christmas Eve meal is a heck of a lot of work. Don't show up in time to shove it down your throat and say, "When do we open presents?" If you want to win brownie points, come by the day before and help clean house.
4. To those of you who send Christmas cards, if you can't write even a simple note, don't bother. Hey, I understand how busy this time of year is, but seeing pictures of your family, reading your sometimes overindulgent letters, or even getting a simple note of well wishes is vital to my mental health. But those of you who only sign your name to a card are wasting the postage. I'd rather get a phone call.
5. To the snowplow driver...if you plow in our driveway one more time there's gonna be hell to pay! Shoveling out for three days in a row has been a bonding experience for Al and I, but what a backache!
6. To Brent, Darrin, and David...you should be ashamed of yourselves for letting your aging parents shovel out ten feet of snow by themselves while you were nestled all snug in your beds with visions of sugar plums dancing in your heads. What if your father had a heart attack?
7. Neighbors and friends...your generosity is touching, but if I get one more batch of fudge my thighs are going to explode! If you are compelled to bring food, how about some Christmas veggies? Or better yet, bring a fruitcake. I won't be tempted one bit by it and will feel no guilt in throwing it away.

There. That was cathartic. Actually, since I know that less than 10 people follow this blog, and none of them are on the list above, this Airing of Grievances has most likely fallen on deaf ears. Oh well. That's just as well. You know it's all just in good fun, right??

February Frenzy

And so it starts...the second craziest month of my year - February. What, you may ask, is so crazy about February?? Well, it has hands down the most birthdays of any month of the year - for members of our family, at least. And these are not meaningless birthdays. Here they are for those of you who need reminders to make that obligatory birthday phone call...

February 5.......David turns 16 (we'll need to fit the Department of Transportation into that day somehow, and then I would advise you all to stay off the road for a few weeks.)

February 6.......Al turns 50! Now that's a landmark birthday any way you cut it.

February 8.......Dad turns 75 (we hope to celebrate with him if he ever returns from his world travels)

February 19......Hannah turns 11 (I'm pretty sure she will be getting the short end of the stick this year - there won't be much left once we get to the 19th!)

Anyway, to start this month of birthdays off, I've created a scrapbook page tribute to Al and his half-century of life. It even won a contest over at www.jenwilsondesigns.com which, I've been told, is because he's so incredibly HOT for an old guy!! Click on the picture to see it full sized.

Love ya, honey!

Top 10 Things I've Learned About Wrestling

I've learned a lot about wrestling this season. Since I'm past the age of being able to truthfully say "I learn something new every day," I'm pretty excited. So here is what I've learned...

1. Bleachers are really uncomfortable, no matter how much padding your butt has. The maximum uncomfortable point comes at around the sixth hour of sitting on them.

2. Ignore the signs that say "No Coolers or Outside Food Allowed."

3. The "Real" wrestling parents have, at minimum, 300 mm lenses for their Canon cameras.

4. The command "Shoot!" has nothing to do with guns, although I believe most of the mothers watching their son's matches wish that it did (if for no other reason than to shorten the duration of #1 above.)

5. Yelling, "You can do it!" only reveals your stupidity about the sport, however "Head UP!" is usually a pretty safe thing to yell, no matter what position your son is in.

6. Remember Gumby? He couldn't do half of the things these kids do with their limbs!

7. Never, under any circumstances, make any comment about an opposing player to anyone sitting close to you. Murphy's Law dictates that person will be the kid's parent. (Fortunately, I didn't do this but had the interesting experience of hearing the comments about MY kid! I had to turn the self-control knob all the way up!)

8. Wrestling attire are not called "tights." They're called "singlets." What would a "doublet" be?

9. "Cradling" your opponent, unlike cradling your baby, is not a loving gesture, and

10. Essentially, the entire point of wrestling is to stay OFF the bottom which, unfortunately, is where David has spent most of the season. Until yesterday. Yesterday David pinned (yes, I said PINNED) his Urbandale opponent at the Valley tournament. This mom was pumped!

Christmas Meltdown

Can I be honest? I don't really like Christmas. Oh, I like the idea of Christmas, and I have some wonderful Christmas memories, but Christmas has become characterized by insane rushing about, trying to meet everyone's expectations of what they want Christmas to be. And it all leaves me exhausted and discouraged. And this year add sick to the list. I have a heck of a cold, and I just want to crawl in bed and sleep until the New Year.

But Hannah (and others) look forward to the one day each year when I actually make cookies the real way...by pulling out the flour and sugar and butter and the humongous Kitchen Aid mixer. So we started the cookies tonight. So far they are a disappointment. The Giradelli cookie mix I bought (OK, so I cheated a little) created little piles of crumbs that, while they taste good, won't hold together for anything. The spritz cookie press yielded misshapen trees and stars, all with red sprinkles for consistency (I honestly thought I put one each of the green and red sprinkles in my grocery cart!) So with flour and red sprinkles covering every surface of our kitchen, and with no supper for the kids served yet (does cookie dough count for supper?) I've called it a night. Hannah still wants to make cut out, frosted cookies tomorrow. I just don't know if I have it in me.

Tomorrow is our annual seafood dinner - a tradition that started when Mom first served breaded shrimp on Christmas Eve when I was a kid. This year David has requested lobster tail. Dream on. Christmas presents are opened after church - not one is wrapped yet. Tonight I see lines of cars inching slowly through our neighborhood, looking at the Christmas lights. Are their cookies all done? Are their gifts all wrapped? I'm jealous that I don't have time to enjoy such simple luxuries.

So I'm feeling a bit Scroogish right now. I'm sure a good night sleep will help. A Carribean cruise would cure it for sure. I can definitely understand those who skip town and let someone else do the work for them in some Swiss chalet or on a Hawaiian beach. But somehow the thought of Christmas anywhere other than in snow-covered Iowa doesn't seem right. Even with all the craziness and stress.

Jesus said, "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" Matthew 11:28. Here's to finding some Christ in your Christmas.

Homecoming. I always wax nostalgic at the mere mention of this annual event. The parade. The Big Game. The Dance. It's a very big deal. Al has never understood my excitement at the sight of a freshly Tee-Peed front yard early in the morning on homecoming day, or the sounds of giggling cheerleaders in the yard at 2 a.m. Call the cops?! Unthinkable!! It's all part of the fun. The weather could not have been better. We relaxed at the parade while Hannah collected pounds of candy from float-riders who threw to the kids lining the street. Tonight the game was standing-room-only as the community came out in droves to watch our Dragons pound on the Marshalltown Bobcats. Great fun.

This year David is a sophomore and it's his first high school homecoming. His first date is tomorrow night for the homecoming dance. The corsage is ordered; the attire is purchased and waiting to be freshly pressed tomorrow; the dinner reservations are made. And I am without a doubt more excited than he is. Check back Sunday for more photos. Meanwhile, I think I'll just pretend I'm sixteen for one more day.