Houston, We've Reached a New Low

We don't look bored in this picture because all the kids are behind the photographer making us look more interesting.

When I was pregnant with my youngest, my husband and I worked as counselors for our church youth camp. We had one camper who whined THE ENTIRE camp because he "was bored." At the end of the camp, they always gave out little awards (The messy award, the friendly award). The little bored camper got the "I'm Bored Award." When they announced his award he fell from his chair, crying and rolling on the floor. It had been a fun week, but that was a priceless moment that topped the week off as the funniest moment of all. Today marks a month since we became empty-nesters. Now I remember why we had children. . .  We're just dang boring without em. Sadly, we're like Homer and Marge Simpson, sittin on the couch watchin our stories. Well, maybe not quite as bad as Homer and Marge, but pretty dang close. The good thing about empty nesting is, the grocery bill has plummeted. I've been on a cooking strike. Luckily, I'm married to a man who is perfectly content with frozen dinners. Well, I guess there is the slight chance my cooking is so bad that it's not missed, but for narcissistic purposes, let's go with the content thing. It's so boring at our house that I walked into the kitchen the other day and He said. . . "I'm bored. We should go on a hike or go bowling or something."  I just paused for a minute then said. . . "Yeah, we should." Then we just continued on with all the things we weren't doing. Yes, Houston we've reached a new low.

First Day.....

Having grown up beneath a church pew (Meaning back in the day before nursery services were provided), I remember the Pastor we had when I was little used to say. . . .  "Today is the first day of the rest of your life".  That's how I feel on this first empty nest Saturday.  I've had a weird surge of focus and energy this week, a therapist might say it could be indicative of being bipolar, I choose to see it as a mom reclaiming her nest. I do my best work when I'm alone. I've moved furniture, thrown stuff away, cleaned and organized my now empty nest. Surprisingly this first week wasn't bad, I was so busy, there wasn't any time to pout. My Hubby will come walking through the door any minute and I'm going to happily tell him. . . .  "Today is the first day of the rest of our lives!!?

The Cry of a Mockingbird

When we first moved into our home, the front porch was overgrown with giant cedars that barely left room to walk up the steps. Inside one of the cedar trees, a mockingbird had made her nest. We learned to duck as she guarded her nest with fierce determination as we entered the home with arms full of boxes. On the 2nd or 3rd night in the house, the doorbell rang at 3 in the morning. I sat straight up in bed like I had been hit by a bolt of lightening because the doorbell wasn't as much a doorbell as it was a buzz. It sounded like someone was being electrocuted, which in hindsight was a fairly good description since it caught on fire a couple of years later. I ran down the stairs and groped my way through the unfamiliar living room, dodging boxes and furniture. I peeked through the octagon window in the old wooden door and saw a young shirtless black guy standing on the porch looking over his shoulder. I cracked the door open a enough for him to tell me he had just been walking down the street when he noticed the dome light was on in our car and he thought I should come take a look at it. I asked him to wait as I ran upstairs to rouse my sleeping husband. At 3 in the morning, He needed to be shakened a little to get him to wake up so I said the most shocking thing I could think of to get him up and rolling.... I said.... "There's an Ethiopian looking guy who needs to talk to you like right now!"
My urgency wasn't contagious as he slowly got up and ambled downstairs. When he got to the door, the Ethiopian guy was very insistent he come out and see the car light. My husband finally persuaded him to leave and as he was walking down the steps, the momma mockingbird dive boomed the back of his head practically knocking him to the ground. He jumped up like he had been hit with a bat and ran as fast as his Ethiopian legs would take him. It was so funny! We waited until the nest was empty before we cut the tree down and hauled it away. Even with the nest empty and the tree gone, the momma mockingbird kept coming back, squawking and flying in circles where tree once stood. It was like she didn't know what to do with herself and it was heartbreaking. We moved my last little chick to the City this weekend and as we pulled into our driveway I thought of the momma mockingbird and her frantic cries.  The language she spoke makes perfect since to me 18 years after the fact.  All she had ever known was guarding her nest with fierce tenacity. Then one day she returned home to find no nest, no tree.  There were no little mouths to feed... No quarrels to settle, no tears to wipe.... Except her own. The branches of other trees in the neighborhood didn't feel the same.... They seemed... Well, they seemed a little shaky and not as comfortable as the one that held her nest. "Where do I go to from here? What do I do now?" She squawked, but sadly the night was silent and in that moment.... like it might never end....

P.S. If you look for me in the near future, I'll be the one lying in the corner in a fetal position.

Spilled Milk

Although I do tend to live out loud in a blogging kind of way, I don't actually expect anyone to pay any attention to me, so it's always a pleasant surprise when someone admits they've read anything I've written. So yes, I've been totally full of myself today to the point of tossing my Starbucks. I've cried sobbed for 5 solid hours... Thank you Jesus everyone was out of my office. Late this morning, I got an email from my Bestie. She doesn't get a lunch hour, so we never get to do lunch, but today she got a lunch hour and wanted to know if I wanted to meet. I couldn't snap that offer up quick enough with fair warning that I was not going to be a Chipper Chickie. I walked into the Tearoom and saw her standing by the table farthest from the crowd with a seat saved for yours truly so my back would be to the luncheon-muchins as I snotted and slobbered our hour away. Now that's a true friend.... One that saves you the seat that causes you the least embarrassment. My eyes were swollen and fire engine red. I had no make-up left anywhere close to my nose area and thank God I had on waterproof mascara. We hugged and had a seat and she said...... "Okay Sister.... What's going on?" All I could do is whisper that we were moving the baby out tomorrow. She let out a long sigh and shook her head as if that explained it all. She has been with me through all of my motherhood drama-rama. She would sit and laugh at my Mother/Daughter tales, snicker at my ADHD boy vs. ADHD Mother antics (yes, hypnosis was involved) and rejoiced with me when the true "Quiet One" was born. Finally she asked.... "What exactly bothers you about him?" That's when I really broke down.... "I'm not worried about him.... I'm worried about me!!!!!" I know! It's hard to believe that I just admitted it out loud, but it's the truth! PA-THETIC! I told her how scared I was.... Scared about what I was going to be now, who I was going to be. What if I find out my husband  and I don't like each other so much now? It's been 30 years since we've been alone and since the minute you decide to have children, you instantly cease really

being alone because the parenting gene starts to kick in and we were only married for 6 months before we decided to get pregnant and had only known each other for 6 months before we married and I lived in Tulsa the whole time so we barely knew each other and I was a starry eyed 18 year old who still believed in fairy tales and happily ever after and now it looks like the ever after is here and I never really thought things through to this point and to be honest.... I'm just panicked and maybe I'm having cold feet 31 years after the fact and what if things really start sucking now????? Yes, this was all expressed with one breath and no periods so excuse my punctuation if it's not exact. She listened and nodded and patted my hand and the waiter looked on with concern, tried to fix things with chocolate and obviously didn't think she was doing a good enough job of comforting me so he actually offered to let me share my burdens with him which, just made me feel more pathetic that the wait staff wasn't sure they would be able to clean up the slobbery mess I was leaving behind.  I finally cried myself into dehydration and a full blown raging headache by the time we said our goodbyes. This afternoon the troops upstairs rallied around me (since there were no troops downstairs) to assure me that life would continue to be full in spite of the house being empty and I'm sure they're right. One co-worker listened to me and said.... "You're having a..." I interrupted her with...  "I'm having a mid-life crisis!! This is it, this is what it looks like." I'm telling y'all, it ain't pretty. And to heap guilt upon guilt and panic upon panic, I feel like at totally Jac-Arse for being so freaked out. I'm suppose to be consumed with parental concern and Hover Mom duties, but no... I'm sobbing my eye out because I'm worried about me, which totally makes me a narcissist nut job who fully admits to any and all of the above noted sentiments as well as various psychopathy's (yes, I watch too much, or perhaps not enough Dr. Drew).... Or a woman who simply says what other women feel but have the sense enough not to admit out loud. Neither of these are a good thing, but it is what it is and I'm sure when I wake up Sunday morning, everything will be right as rain and I'll embrace the fact that I can run around the house in my panties without the fear of a brood of teenage boys traipsing through the house. On a closing note a co-worker came down right before 5 to tell me that they had been discussing my meltdown upstairs, trying to remember how they felt when their kids left the nest. The consensus was  the worse case scenario is... The kids return to the nest, bring more bodies than they left with and expect me to support the whole herd. Well if dehydration didn't dry up the tears, the thought of that sure did. I think I'll just embrace the idea of a naked room and quit this crying over spilled milk.

All I've known......

There is a song by Matt Wertz titled "All I know".  I love the lyrics which can be interpreted in several different ways depending on my mood.

"All I know is the bleeding in my heart 

And the healing in your touch All I know is that you gave everything 

So let that be enough 'Cause it's all I know"

A girlfriend and I were talking the other day about our youngest leaving for college. In no uncertain terms she informed me we MUST plan a couple of girlfriend trips in August and September to help soften the blow of our empty nest. Today I sat at my desk and stared at the calendar hanging on my cubicle wall. One week, I had one week before I move my youngest to the City and everything I've ever known changes. Honestly, I feel like a big ole tit bag whining about the kids moving off to college, still, I can't help but spill whatever angst  I'm feeling onto a public blog in hopes that I'm not alone.... In a "It's my blog and I'll whine if I want to." kind of way. The truth is, there are some things in life, you simply cannot adequately prepare yourself for.  A friend of mine had breast cancer. As much as I wanted to understand her pain, I couldn't because I hadn't walked that path. A friend of mine suffered a devastating divorce from the father of her children and the man she was sure was her soul mate. It scared me so badly, I insisted my husband and I go to marriage counseling just so it wouldn't happen to us. My heart ached as I watched her attempt to put her shambled life back into order. I remember when as the baby of the family, I left home, I saw my parents struggling to get used to it being just the two of them again. In my brilliant mind I intended to take proactive steps to prevent the eventual empty nest from catching us off guard, so we've done everything in our power to maintain our relationship. But as I looked at the calendar on the wall, I fear we haven't done enough and panic seized my gut. Women are nurturers, that's just what we do. I got married young and had children 

young. The idea of going off on my own was short lived and squashed after graduation, so marriage seemed like the logical next step. All I'd ever dreamed of being was a wife and a mother. Now looking back, that's all I've ever known.... Which isn't a bad thing, but has become a very scary thing. My dreams never really developed past the point of when the children were grown and gone. As my last child entered high school, I realized that all I've ever known was pleasing other people.... There really hadn't been energy or courage to do things outside other people's expectations. When I think of moving my son next week, I almost get physically ill. The house is going to be so still.... Big... Empty. What will I do? I look at my husband, whom I adore, and I wonder if we'll have anything to talk about for the next 30 years. We're really not that interesting. He knows all of my stories, I've heard all of his stories and there is an overwhelming panic that I'm just going to cease to exist. I know that probably sounds overly dramatic, but that's what's 

going through my head this week. I remember when the babies were learning to walk.... How they would hold onto a piece of furniture and my husband would get in front of them, with his arms outstretched, encouraging them. I would walk behind with my hands cupped under the bottoms in case they lost their footing and fell. Why was I so afraid of them falling? Naturally, I wanted to prevent them from getting hurt, but in reality, babies have very short legs and we bubble wrap their butts the minute they come into this world, so a fall from a standing position onto a padded bottom isn't a life threatening event, yet there we were, hands cupped from behind, hands held up in front, just in case the knees wobbled and the wee one plopped to the floor. That's a little how I feel about my youngest moving out. I desperately want to prevent him from all kinds of mistakes, but could I really? I've never ventured the path he is about to embark upon. I've never experienced taking those first steps alone. So what is really at the root of my anxiety. The root of my anxiety is the fear I have about my own future, not his. Mistakes are inevitable and he'll live though them. When it's all mixed together, it's just the process of living a full life. Insecurity breeds insecurities. If I refuse to let go, he's just going to resist my grip all the more. I have to let go and trust he can do it and believe that even with the absence of a house full of kids, my husband and I will paddle our way through this shallow part of the river, to deeper waters ahead.

Apron String Heart

I pulled into our driveway in my cyber green Beetle.  A tiny voice in the back seat asked.... "Momma, are you going to make me move out when I turn 18 like you did Sissy?"  A little piece of my heart broke as I explained to my 8 year old that mommy didn't make Sissy move away, rather she grew up and wanted to go to college..... "Well I'm never going to college, I want to stay here with you and daddy." I knew he was struggling with his sister's absence; with 11 years difference between them, she had been a mother figure to him, letting him sleep with her so "Bubba couldn't smother him in his sleep" like he teased him of doing. His teacher had told me he was struggling emotionally with her move. She said he came to school every day and told her exactly how many days left until he would see his Sissy again; kind of like a child whose father goes off to war. He was most comfortable when the entire family was safe and accounted for each evening before he went to bed. If they weren't, he would inquire as to the exact time they were expected back.... "I just rest better when everyone is home." he would tell me. I poked my head in his bedroom the other night to tell him dinner was ready. He sat on the love seat holding his game

controller, his girlfriend sat beside him. His face is a gingerbread brown from working his summer job, but it is the same face that stared thoughtfully out the car window when I picked him up from daycare all those years ago. His bedroom walls that had been covered with band posters and teenage mementos, has been stripped bare. Boxes and packing supplies are stacked in the living room, waiting to be filled. In a couple of weeks, all his worldly possessions will fill a U-Haul and spirit him away to the City to begin his adult (or almost adult life). I think on some level, I thought he never would grow up and

leave momma and daddy, but the pulling force of independence and the opportunity to live close to his siblings is stronger than this mom's apron strings. I'm still not sure I've recovered from having his sister and brother leave, and now I'm preparing yet again, to set the child I've nurtured and loved, loose in a cruel world that doesn't have his best interest at heart. "I've done it before." I tell myself.... "I can do it again." But part of me wants to chain him to the past and never let him go as the other part of me fumbles with the knot of my apron string heart.

Good Day

Today we packed up our baby boy and his girlfriend and headed to OCCC to enroll him. We talked a little on the way, but mostly they listened to music with their ear buds. My oldest son met us at the school. After initial hugs and kisses the three of them walked to the main building as we lagged behind. The three of them were suddenly very chatty, talking about classes and stuff. I looked over at my husband and said.... "We just don't speak their language." He put his arm around me and assured me.... "It's just that they're young." Well.... I'm not sure what he meant by that... I'm young... I may not be 18 or 26, but I'm young. I could tell his girlfriend was a little nervous so I stayed with her while he went for testing. Finally, after doing this and that and that and this he came back with a small smile, sat down and showed us his ID card. It really happened. He is actually enrolled in college for fall. As we walked back to the car I told my oldest... "I can't believe my baby just enrolled in college." He said... "It's good mom, don't cry." "I'm not crying" I said. He laughed and said... "Oh, I thought I saw a little tear." I don't know what he was talking about. I was right as rain. My daughter met us at my son's apartment downtown and we walked to the arts festival, ate lunch and meandered down Thunder Ally. The kids walked and talked and laughed, seemingly glad to all be together. When my youngest was a wee one, and his brother and sister still lived at home, he used to ask me each night as I tucked into bed, when Bubba and Sissy would be home. I would explain to him where each of them were, what they were doing and when I expected them home. One time I asked him why he asked each night and he said.... "I just rest better when everyone is together." The last several years, he hasn't had much rest. My daughter is in the Navy and has been from hither to yon for years, while my oldest son spent several years doing mission work in different places. Watching them walk and talk made me feel like they were all where they should be... Together. On the way home, I looked at my husband and said.... "It's been a good day." He smiled and agreed. The chicks may not all be in the nest, but at least they will soon be in the same city together.... So everyone can rest better.

The Strangled Sob Behind a Poker Face

I was a weepy mess last week for no particular reason at all and I'm not much better today. I know all good things much end, and yes I suppose new adventures are just a breath away, but gosh, being a mom is hard. Several months ago, my youngest sat on our couch and with absolute resolve and made it perfectly clear that he WAS NOT going to college. He did it in almost a temper tantrum kind of way... Well I say that, but actually no voices were raised or harsh words spoken, it's just that he was adamant that he would not go to college regardless of how we felt. The conversation left me baffled and confused. Although the subject of college had been discussed between his siblings and him, we had never broached the subject with him, nor him with us (yes, I'm sure that's bad parenting 101).

Early last week he gently knocked on my bedroom door as I was reading. He came into the room looking at his phone and in teenage mumble/murmuring speak, told me that he was going to Oklahoma City next week to enroll in OCCC. He said he had already sent his transcript in and just needed to sign up for classes. Much like the haircut, I tried my best to "Act Nach" and not torpedo him with the million questions inquiring mothers like to ask, so I simply said.... "Okay, is that something you would like dad and I to go with you to do?" I tread the waters very lightly with him because frankly, he doesn't quite know how to take me and I don't quite know how to take him which is a complete 180 compared to my older children. His teenage years have been a learning process for me that darn near required psychic abilities I do not possess... Psycho abilities yes, psychic abilities no. He shrugged his shoulder and said (in teenage mumble/murmuring speak) "Well, like sure, if y'all like want to go, that would be fine.... I guess."  Quickly my mind translated the message in "Uniquely Patterson" speak and determined the answer was... "Sure, I'd love for you to go." or at least I think that's the translation as I would like it to be. The idea that my youngest was actually going to leave, hit me in the stomach like a boxers upper cut. Parenting is a series of letting go. I absolutely don't want my children living their lives

around my wants, wishes or needs, but that doesn't make letting go easy or painless. I remember when each one of them were just learning to walk. After a fall on their padded diapered bottoms, they would look to me to assess if I thought they were hurt. The way I responded to the fall had much more significance than the actual fall itself.  They were more likely to burst into tears when I rushed to their aid as if something was wrong than they were when I simply smiled and encouraged them to get up, assuring them they were okay. The changes and paths they take in life as adults aren't much different.  When they come to me with decisions to make, or questions I don't have the answer for, I wish I did have psychic abilities or a crystal ball to direct them in the absolute perfect direction. As a mom without all the answers, all I can do is to let them know I support them 100% regardless of the choices they make.  I try to keep a sense of calm about me even when I desperately want to tuck them under my wing and never let them go. Watching their world unfold before my very eyes is both exciting and scary... A tiny part of me would like to fold it back up and start all over again.... Without the rookie mistakes I made as a young parent. The sound you hear as I watch them fly farther, higher and stronger from the nest is nothing short of a strangled sob hidden behind a loving smile and a very good poker face.

"Be Sweet"

I have always told my kids... "Be Sweet" when I dropped them off at school or when they left to spend the night with a friend. I think all parents want their children to represent them well when they are out of eye shot. A Momma can always give a kid the eye that says 10 times more than anything a man could say with words, but when you're not there.... You just have to keep your fingers crossed and stay close to the phone just in case. So "Be Sweet" has been my official warning, along with "Make good choices". Earlier in the week I took my little Sailor to the doctor. I knew that they would probably have to dope her up before they began her treatment and flashbacks of when she had her wisdom teeth kept running through my head. My husband was bringing her home and she was totally looped out from the medication. He was guiding her up the front steps when the front

door opened. The lady who cleaned the house was there and had seen him walking up the steps. My daughter took one look at her and said... "I don't like you.... You're fired!" with the slurred speech of a drunken sailor. My husband (a man of few words) just smiled and rolled his eyes as he turned her in the direction of her room. So, when the nurse called her back the other day, I stood up, gave my daughter a hug and said... "Be sweet." She just smiled and promised she would try. Later when they called us back, she was curled up on the bed. I sat in the chair beside her bed and began feeding her ice chips. She looked up at me with those sweet little eyes (like she was 8 instead of 28) and said... "Momma, I wasn't ugly." It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about and she must have seen my confusion because she said... "The nurses said I didn't act ugly, I was sweet." Awe, she's still Momma's sweet little girl! No matter where she goes or how old she grows, she will always be Momma's little girl.

Sunday Morning With Wee Ones

I got to play hall monitor this morning in the children's section of church. I watched as harried and tired parents hustled their wee ones to the children's area and with a sigh of relief (or reprieve) they headed to the sanctuary for a "Where the rubber meets the road" sermon that hopefully helped them make it through another week.  Young parents need all the help they can get as they work and try to to be super parents to the precious little bundles of joy God has given them. I watched as one Dad walked toward the area with his hands completely full of his wee one. She clasped on the floor in a heap with a little squeal. Finally he got her to use her two legs and they got in line behind other young parents checking their kids into class. As he stood in line we chatted as his wee one pretended he was a jungle gym, hanging from his pockets, climbing up his leg.  I couldn't help but chuckle as I told him that all too soon his frantic house would fall eerily silent due to the fact that wee ones grow up much faster than we anticipate.  Time certainly seems to fly when you're raising kids and having so much fun you can hardly stand it. I remember Sunday mornings with little ones. I remember being so flustered by the time I got to church, I felt like I needed to walk straight into the sanctuary and hit the alter to pray through before church started. For some reason (maybe it's because I was a bit of control freak where dressing the kids were concerned) my husband never grasped the idea that although boys shirts buttoned in the front, little girls dresses typically buttoned in the back. Nor did he understand the concept that little girls socks needed to be put on in what looked like an inside out fashion so when you turned the cuffs down the lacy side showed. He never did understand the need for a big glob of K-Y Jelly on the top of a bald head so a bow (which matched the dress that buttoned in the back) could be held in place. Yep, I raised my two oldest in the days before giant headbands for baby girls and nurseries with nursery attendants for all ages of children. Back in the day we had the task of keeping our babies and toddlers occupied during service, making sure they didn't disrupt the whole church.  We tried to glean nuggets out of the sermon between juggling our kids, but sometimes we were just proud that we made it there and back home in one piece. When service was over, I felt like I had been mauled by a couple of pit bulls (for some reason my husband never felt that way). Yeah, the sight of harried parents and squealing children brought back all of those delightful memories this morning and as I walked away I realized just thinking about them made me extremely tired.  I suppose that's why God lets you have kids when you are young.  Even with the mauling, the climbing and the projectile vomiting, I still wouldn't trade those memories for a room full of gold. I do so enjoy watching today's young parents fight the good fight and I especially enjoy watching grandparents pitching in, helping out and making the fight a little easier. One little guy passed by me this morning who was the spitting image of his papa and and I don't know.... It just makes me smile. Maybe some day I'll have a little one who is the spitting image of their Lolly.... Oh, won't that be fun!!!!!

If Motherhood Was Easy, God Would Have Given The Job To Men

Oh gosh! Motherhood is a difficult journey regardless if you're the one traveling, or if you are watching someone else travel. I have a co-worker who is preparing to pack her baby girl up and move her several hours away. As a Mom who has had that same experience, it hurts. When you carry a child in your womb, nurture and protect it, give birth to it and then raise it...... You are wildly attached to it! I know many men would disagree but growing a child inside of you gives you a spiritual and physical bond men just don't have. That's not to say that men don't love their children, it's just very different than the connection women feel for their children (of course this is just a woman's view). I know when my two older children moved away I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest and I was left with a gapping bleeding hole. Although I hurt, I rejoiced that they were physically, mentally and emotionally capable of packing up and leaving. Embracing my childs independence wasn't an easy task, but it was a necessary task.  After the fact I realized how blessed I am to have equipped my child enough to leave the nest, spread their wings and sore to heights that I have never seen.  My heart has ached for her as I've watched her prepare herself the last two weeks, in fact we have shared a few tears over it. But I know that she will live through this time, even if it is with a gapping bleeding hole and when she steps back to see how much her daughter has grown, that hole will be filled with pride at a job well done. I got your back Sister..... You will survive.

What's Next?

The house is quiet this morning. The moon is still bright outside, the sun still in hiding. It definitely feels like fall, I love it. Not so many years ago the house would have been filled with the turmoil of getting children dressed for school, the baby fed and a husband off to work. Things have certainly slowed down with the oldest two children now grown and living their own lives. It's something as a parent that is bittersweet. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of little feet running up and down the stairs in pajamas with the feet in them. Nothing more heartwarming than giggles coming from a darkened room where everyone is suppose to be sleeping, and there's nothing more empty feeling then when those sounds have long left your home. The sound of the daily news now runs in the background of my life along with the pitter patter of not little feet but some honkin big paws. I'm not sure a man can fully understand what it's like for a woman to raise her children and set them on their path to freedom. There's a hole in my heart that won't heal because of their absence. I wouldn't bring them back for anything in the world, because I set in my heart from the start that their independance was something I would embrace with joy and I absolutely do; it's not so much for them that I mourn it's but for myself (selfishness I'm sure). My youngest turns 15 this month. From past experience I know what that means. In a flash he'll be gone too. I'll admit that I struggle with my purpose, my goals and my dreams now that all but one has left the nest. So much time, effort, energy invested... now I'm at a loss of where I go from here. I never really dreamed past my children. Never really made plans past the part where they were raised so here I sit in the early morning hours wondering... what's next?