Sometimes It's The Simplest Things That Make Us Smile

Today was a good day. I'm still tired, I'm still stressed over the pending move and I'm still missing my daughter, but in spite of all that I have to say that today was a good day. My boss's daughter is 9 years old. Since she was 4 we've had a couple days a year that we have a baking date - and today was one of them. My boss brought all the ingredients to work for a fresh peach crisp, and together SC and I baked the office a wonderful, summer scented treat. With the aroma of peaches and cinnamon filling the air, we measured, giggled, discussed the importance of fractions (she IS at that age) to baking, and nibbled at bits of peach with the ripe juice dripping on our fingers. When we shared the treat with the office staff, together we shared the glory of a job well done, and through it all I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction at sharing something I love doing with a little girl who so obviously loves learning to do it as well.

Grab a moment of summer as the days fly by, and enjoy the fruits of the season, both literally and figuratively. Steal a few moments with a child who views the world with joy and awe, and for just a moment become a child again. It makes for a truly good day.

Where'd All This Stuff Come From???

We're moving. For most people who may read this, that's about enough said to make them groan. I don't know anyone who LIKES the process of moving. The excitement of finding "THE" house that we wanted to buy was great, the thrill of mentally putting things in their proper new place, envisioning new furniture to fill all that extra space, getting rid of old furniture that has been following us around . . . all of that is great! But the reality of packing really doesn't generate any fuzzy feelings - unless you're counting the dust bunnies we're chasing out from under the bed. How in the world did we manage to accumulate all this stuff in the 3 years we've lived in this house? I don't get it! When we moved in here we'd gotten rid of a lot of extra junk, and the move before that, for both my husband and I, was a post divorce move - so we'd already unloaded lots of dead weight - in addition to the ex's. Each cupboard, drawer, closet and corner seems to be overflowing with stuff that we either don't need, forgot we had, or may use "someday". We have a mountain of boxes in the family room, some more in the dining/kitchen area, more yet in our separate offices - we haven't even touched the guest room yet - eeek! So far we don't know when the new house will close, but we have to be out of the old one by mid-July. There's this limbo-stuck between worlds feeling for both of us that we'd really like to shake and begin the final move into the first home we're purchasing together. And, as if this weren't bad enough, time seems to have slowed down to negative speeds in land of belonging nowhere. They say a watched pot doesn't boil - so what should the saying be for closing a home purchase?

For now, we'll finish the packing, work around the boxes, and try not to turn blue holding our breath waiting for things to happen, and make the promise to ourselves that THIS time I hope we keep - to not keep the clutter, always be organized, and free ourselves of the bondage of too much unnecessary junk. Please pass some packing paper Honey . . .

Missing Summer Vacations . . .

Ah summer. How I'd love to go back and be a kid again during these months. The anticipation of the end of the school year, staring out the window distracted by the sun, signing yearbooks, and the rush of freedom as crowds of stir-crazy kids made the last exodus of the school year out those doors and onto the buses and into cars to head out for fun in the sun.

I was one of those kids who always had a job, but that didn't distract from the fun. One of my jobs was at a Christian Campground where youth groups came for retreats. Break times were spent canoeing, lazing on the little island in the middle of the lake, horseback riding, or running the obstacle course. Even being on duty was fun, serving the food in the mess hall, working in the concession stand afterwards, living in the cabins at night, doing housekeeping duties in between times. Those days were filled to the brim with laughter, sunshine, hard work, and great memories.

It's funny how kids eagerly rush into adulthood, never realizing that with that growth comes responsibility and the forfeiture of lazy sleep-in days, jobs that inject summer fun into the duty roster, and the endless energy that made those days longer and fuller than any others for the rest of the year.

It is because of these memories that I encourage each of us to go camping, take a hike, roast hot dogs or marshmallows over a fire, skip rocks on the lake, take some time for a lazy sleep-in, or just lay in the middle of a meadow of flowers watching the clouds float by overhead. Re-live at least one childhood summer memory as you go about the business of being a grown-up. It'll make your summer feel like summer, and breathe fresh air into the monotony of yet another day. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to plan a picnic!

A Mother's Pride Knows No Bounds . . .

I've shared my joys, sorrows and angst about my daughter - I've been consumed by thoughts of her lately. But today she and her man hit the road for their new adventure and rather than crying I find myself content and happy for her. I have neglected to share my joy about my handsome, wonderful son though, so here it is . . .

G started out life quickly. His was a speedy labor and delivery - 1.5 hrs from the moment of the first pain/breaking of the water, to the moment the nurse held him up to me in delivery. He had this blond hair sticking up all over his head - almost like a real life little Bart Simpson. He was a headstrong child from the first moment he opened his eyes, and continued to show his independence with his first words - not the traditional Mommy or Daddy, but "I Don't Want To" Really? "I Don't Want to"? Oh man, I knew I was in for it. And sure enough, through age 4 I wasn't sure whether to just sit in the corner mumbling to myself and plugging my ears, run screaming from the house and never return, or just do what I did - spend a lot of time crying and praying for relief from this age. It passed, he learned to communicate his needs and we began to come to understand each other. And what a joy those following years were.

He has always been goal oriented, from his first words to the present, he's set his eyes on a goal and made sure he reached it. By the time he was 12 he decided he wanted to be in some form of law enforcement and researched how to get there and what to do to make a great resume before he even had a job. He joined our county's Emergency Search and Rescue team by the time he was 14, which is the youngest age they allow to join, was a team leader by 16, became a Sheriff's Cadet by 17, took special classes in the local tech school for Law Enforcement and Fire Safety, and 3 days after he turned 18 years old, just 2 short months after graduation from high school, he left for United States Coast Guard Basic Training, with the ultimate goal of drug interdiction as a career path. If you thought I cried over my daughter leaving, you can imagine what I went through when he walked out that door, uniforms and gear in hand, not to be heard from til not long before graduation. I've never been more proud than when I sat in the audience watching him walk across that floor to receive his graduation pin.

He came home and left almost immediately for advanced training, followed by a brief time at home, then he was deployed outside the U.S. for 6 months. Again, with the tears, the anguish - but oh the pride. My son is serving his country with pride and dedication. What more could a mother ask? Well, there are a few things, like . . .

Stop driving that blasted motorcycle so fast. Quit smoking - it'll kill you faster than the motorcyle will. I don't care what I say . . .it's always right because I'm the Mom (ok, that part is tongue in cheek - a little). And always be honest and treat other people with respect and integrity. I'm happy to say that the last one he does, always. My headstrong little boy turned out to be an amazing young man, and worth the bruises I got beating my head against the wall of his stubborn will.

Thoughts of My Daughter . . .

Where do the years go? I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with my daughter as clearly as if it happened yesterday . . . the day I went into labor with her. . . her first day of school . . . her first real date. . . the day she moved out on her own . . . bringing us to today, the day I bid her farewell as she leaves her home state to move away for the first time. There are snapshots of memories racing through my mind's eye, most of them wonderful, some not so wonderful but equally important, some serious, and many silly. Each one is a blessing as they mark events in the life of one of the three biggest blessings of my existence. My daughter is my first blessing, my son is my second, and the third is finding the man of my dreams at the onset of the second half of my life. But for this segment, this will be about my daughter.

She was the most beautiful baby girl ever born. It has to be true - all the nurses said so and we know they see an awful lot of babies! From day one she drew everyone to her side like moth to flame, her personality one that just attracted young and old. She stayed beautiful, and became irresistible over time. She is the brunette Marilyn Monroe of her lifetime, or would be if she were ever to grace the silver screen. Everyone thinks I exaggerate, until they lay eyes on her. It's pretty incredible. It is very common for me to shake my head in disbelief that someone so beautiful, with a personality so magnetic, could have come from me. But she did, and even though she does have faults, as do we all, I tend to see the good and the true, the beautiful and the dynamic. She is my little girl, but I am fortunate enough to include her as my friend.

She is moving away, but distance is relative in this world in which we live. She will be back, and I will visit her in her new home. We will talk every day, we will email, we will IM, we will text. The only change is geography. So, since this is true, why do I feel like I'm losing a piece of my heart? Why do I feel like I'm being ripped to shreds from the inside out? Why do I feel like the tears just will not stop? I don't have answers to those questions. Children don't come with a guidebook that teaches you how to deal with every situation as it arises. I've taken every life event as it comes along, and dealt with it flying by the seat of my pants. This isn't any different.

So, now I'm off, in typical Mom fashion, to bake cookies for her trip. Gotta have cookies on the road right? Hey! It's something I can DO til it's time to cry as I hug her goodbye. I'll know she has something of me to carry with her into her new life, since I can't be there myself. Now where did I put that cinnamon?

Once Upon A Time . . .

Once upon a time there was a young girl of 16 who became friends with a young boy of 17. She was innocent and naive and took words at face value - because why would anyone feel the need to lie about love, friendship and feelings? So they moved on from friendship to dating, from dating to early pending parenthood and subsequent marriage. A bride at 18, a mom at 19, she was in love and just knew that the rest of her life was a blessing in the making. She closed her ears to the words of those who would say negative things about her groom, and everyone seemed to be inclined to give an opinion that wasn't to her liking. She put her fingers in her ears and spent the next 22 years with the sounds of lalalalala in her head to tune out the truth that those who truly loved her were trying to get her to hear.

Things were wonderful in her sunshine world of blind and deaf adoration and ignorance. She loved her daughter and her son with all of her heart and knew that life was bliss. The signs were all around her that not all was as it should be, but rather than see it she focused on the things that were good - and there were many things that were. The family times with the four of them were wonderful. Playing with the children, holidays and the traditions they created, the little trips they took. They did create memories that were pleasing to all of them. But always on the edge of her world was the grey cloud that she pretended wasn't there, but that grew darker with time, and which inevitably would burst a storm onto her world.

Sure enough, their daughter grew up and moved on with her life, embarking on adventures on her own. Their son was getting near to that point as well. The woman, still blinded to what was going on in her own life, still heard the sound of happy thoughts drowning out the unhappy ones. She worked hard, commuting long hours to and from work, 5 per day in all! She made excuses for why her prince couldn't keep a job for any length of time, and why he just couldn't get along with others on the job - it was always someone else's fault. It had to be! He said it was so, so it must be. He kept her from questioning his whereabouts and who his friends were with harsh words and name calling, and she did her share of giving back as good as she got. They were experts at hurting each other by this point in their lives, but still she lalalala out the bad and just knew that once this stress, or that stress, went away that life would be perfect again. It didn't matter that by now her self-esteem had been beaten to a pulp, her confidence was crushed, and she depended completely on him for any positive affirmation - which was never forthcoming.

One day the grey clouds burst and the storm rained down. He was leaving her. He said he was unhappy, but it was him - not her. No, there wasn't anyone else. He'd been faithful, he had! And because he had said it, then it must be true. She looked to herself, blaming herself for not working hard enough, not being pretty enough, not being good enough . . . though the voices of her family said otherwise. Eventually the truth did come out. There was someone else. Had been for quite awhile. And she wasn't the only one. There were many, some of them friends of hers, some not. It had started not long after they had gotten married and continued through the entire 22 years. The lies and the secrets had compounded all while the chorus of lalalalala played in her head. The voices of the family had been speaking the truth all those years, while the verbal, mental and emotional abuse created layers of scars that would take years to peel away.

The woman, who set out on a new life now had her eyes opened to the truth that had been all around her for her entire grown-up life. And she set out on an adventure of her own. She met a real man with no pretense of being a prince. He had honor, integrity and wisdom. He had a quiet authority that radiated strength of spirit, mind and body. He fell in love with her, and she with him, and a world such as she'd never experienced before opened up her eyes to what a joy life could be. She learned that two people can speak the truth to each other and be happy without lies. She learned that it was wonderful not to be called hateful, vile names daily. She learned that it was true happiness when two people worked together as a team, rather than one person working and the other taking. Life wasn't perfect, life never is, there are disagreements, sometimes even arguments, but underneath it all is love, dedication and truth. Her adventure continues with the real man of her dreams, and she anticipates that life will be good and any bumps on the road will be traveled with balance and support from one to the other.

And they anticipate living happily ever after . . .

Oh, and a sidenote - evil continues to perpetuate evil, and bring sadness and mayhem into the lives of all to whom it is connected. Listen to the voices of truth and let not the lalalala of the fairy tale song drown them out.

We Always Hurt the Ones We Love . .. But Why?

It was a rough day. I suspect that the next few will be . . . and the few after that . . . and so on. As I've said before, my daughter is spreading her wings and she's flying into a new chapter of her life. It is taking her far from everything she's ever known, and everyone that she is leaving behind are grieving. Intellectually I know that she's under a great deal of stress and she's nearly to the emotional breaking point. But I'm also to that point and the forest is getting in the way of the trees.

My focus has been primarily on my loss, my feelings, my hurt, and how lonely I'm going to be for her presence in my daily life. Even though I don't see her every day, knowing she's nearby has been enough to feel her. She radiates this energy, a sort of glow, that is hard to describe to anyone who hasn't felt it. She's had this since the day she was born, actually before she was born but I was the only one to know it at that time. Since then she's been radiating it to everyone in her periphery - and even those who don't claim to love her as I do still feel it. Anyway, today the emotions hit a high point and we clashed. And that's the last thing we want to do! We love each other, yet here we are playing push me/pull you against each other instead of trying to be calm, take a breath, and help each other through this. I know our love hasn't faltered, and our relationship will be intact on the other side, but still . . . it hurts to know that in these last few days of being in the same state we have hurt each other. Forgiveness isn't in question, forgetfulness may be. I do not want my child leaving with harsh words between us, I want her to remember only how hard and close I hold her, and as she drives away I want her to know that my love for her is endless.

So for now, this moment, I'll set aside my own feelings and pain, I will pull her into my arms and I will send her into her new life with my blessing. I will be as unselfish as I am capable of being and I will force a smile to my lips and save as many of my tears as I can for after she can't see them any more. It isn't going to be easy . . . but it's what I need to do so I'm not hurting this child that I love so very much. Fly free my darling girl, have the most blessed life in your new home. This isn't going to be goodbye, it's "til I see you again".

Whew - let's just hope I can do that when the moment comes. I'll keep you posted.

My Favorite Memory of My Dad . . . To Date . . .

Father's Day - it means a lot to some Dads, not much to other Dads, and nothing at all to still others. I love my Dad. We aren't exceptionally close in the way of being in constant contact, but I know in my heart he'd do anything for me, and he knows I'd do anything for him. I envy the girls who had an especially wonderful relationship with their fathers, because mine is lacking in the BIG memory moments. He worked at night and missed a lot during those growing up years, so many of my formative years were mainly of him coming home to sleep. But he worked those hours to keep a roof over our heads, food in the fridge and provide the other things we needed. Now that I'm an adult I can see how special that is and acknowledge how much that shows the depths of his love for us.

My best memory though, hands down, was of piano practice after school. You can imagine how it was - hours of practice, hearing the same song and the same notes again and again. I got nervous in front of other people - still do even as an adult - but not in front of my Dad. He was never judgemental of mistakes, hesitations or forgotten notes. He would just sit silently in his chair, put his head back, close his eyes and listen with this peaceful expression on his face, quietly tapping one finger in time with the music and sometimes even humming along. Once in awhile he'd quietly tell me to repeat a section again, then sit there listening to it - sometimes more than just a few times. I miss those quiet days of piano practice with my dad. His acceptance and his pride in my playing always kept me going. When I feel like something is just too difficult to master and I want to give up I can hear him quietly telling me to try it again.

Happy Father's Day Daddy. I'm so proud to call you Dad.

KR

I Don't Know How To Do This . . .

My precious daughter, a young woman I am SO proud of, and love so incredibly much, informed me just 1 short week ago that she is moving 1161 miles away. Ok, she didn't tell me the exact miles, but in typical MOM style I looked it up. And then I fell apart. I have been crying on and off for the entire week and at some point I keep thinking that perhaps there's a bottom of the tear supply, but I haven't found it yet if there is. Flashes of her life keep running through my head and I know that she is a responsible adult, that I've raised her to be independent, that I did a good job - that knowledge is lost in the depths of the soul wracking grief that I am feeling. I don't know how to do this!!! I don't know how to hug her good-bye and watch her drive away, not knowing when I'll see her again. I don't know how to live my life with my precious child too far away to surprise for lunch, or to take to the latest girl movie, or just to have the knowledge that she's only a few towns over so we can disconnect from our busy lives and connect with each other for awhile.

She is making her life with the man she loves, and who we have come to love as well. She is choosing to go with him to the place where he was raised, to be with his family as he has been with hers up til now. She is trading in her stilettos and city job, for life in the country, on a farm (the mind still boggles at the thought)experiencing things she never imagined she'd be experiencing. I'm happy for her, I'm thrilled that she is strong enough to make this change and know that it will be an adventure for her. I guess I'm grieving for me, and for the loss that I'm feeling. I'm still her mom. She still needs me. Sometimes I wonder if it's my own need for her that I'm struggling with, and dealing with the distance is just a by-product of this need. You see, I thought my children would always be near-by, would always be around for me to mother. It's hard to see that I've done what I set out to do 25 years ago. I raised an amazing woman, a beautiful, vivacious, intelligent creation who the world is so lucky to have living in it. She is ready to spread her wings and fly . . . and I have to step back and allow it to happen without soaking those wings with my tears.

How do I do this? I don't know. I guess the same way I dealt with it when my baby was deployed to foreign soil to serve his country over a year ago . . . but that's a different story and a different set of tears. Next time perhaps.