100% of You

This week I had lunch with a dear friend. We went to the hospital, not because the food is great (it can be and they have a Chick Fillet), but because the dining room is huge so we wouldn't be crowded and we wouldn't have to scream over the the noise like you do in some restaurants. I had made a list on my phone of things I wanted to tell her since our last lunch. I texted her to remind me I had put it on my phone, or I would forget to get the list out.... Yes, this happens to me with a grocery list as well, which makes me wonder if it all goes down hill from here with my memory.... RABBIT TRAIL! The chattering began as soon as she picked me up and didn't slow down until I stepped out of the car and back into the office. We had a lot to say to each other. We got our food, picked the table farthest away form everyone else and continued with our conversations.... As in pleural because between the two of us you cannot get a word in edge wise so we both just plunge in with both feet and often and let our wisdom, opinion and our epiphanies splash all over one another. Not to mention we both talk like Italians (with a lot of hand waving and acting our different parts).... I've often thought it would be more than a little entertaining to be an outsider watching us converse. I think I only took a couple of bites of my food then pushed it aside because I had a lot to talk about and didn't have enough time to eat and talk without spitting food all over her and that's just plain rude. As we were leaving she noticed I was wearing the new skirt I had bought when we went shopping. She also noticed that the split in the back of the skirt still had the little knot they put in them when they are in the store so we stopped in the hall so she could cut my string loose. I had dug my pocket knife out of my purse, she had handed me her coke and was bent over lifting up the hem of my skirt so she could see the string. About that time I heard someone say.... "Hi Jackie, are you having fun?" We both looked up said hi and laughed because I know it must have looked a little strange. She said.... "I just saw her bent over with her head up your skirt and wondered."  What could I say... Except.... "Welcome to a day in the life of Jackie... And yes, I'm sure I'll be blogging about it later." She laughed, walked on and my friend took care of my string and we continued to the car. When I got back to the office I felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders, it was so good to get those things (both good and bad) off my chest, just be able to talk to a friend who hears and understands my woman thoughts. I thought to myself.... A friend gives you 100% of their focus when they are in your presence and you give them 100% back. Wouldn't it be refreshing in our technologically advanced world, if there were more people willing to focus 100% on the person they are with when that person has something they need to say? It seems with so many things vying for our attention, we rarely give anything or anyone 100%. Our society now reflects our inattentiveness but we're too busy to notice the loss and are laden with too much apathy to care.

The Language of Baby Love and Women

Our office gave a co-worker a baby shower this week. It's been a while since one of our own has had a baby, so we were all looking forward to it. The shower was held after lunch in the accounting meeting area. We all gathered with our pretty pink packages and anxiously awaited the arrival of the mommy to be. The majority of the women in the office are past the baby phase. Most are either raising teenagers or waiting for grandchildren. I'm not quite sure why, but none of the men showed up for the shower, which should probably be considered just plain rude :-) The mommy to be arrived in all her glory that comes with being pregnant. She is a beautiful lady. She seems excited about the big event, yet a little nervous since she has one other child and he is now 17. Yeah, that's a bit of a gap. A lot of things change in 17 years, especially baby equipment (that
could be taken more than one way LOL). She sat in the front and began to open the gifts. I wish I had the audio of the oohs and ahhh's said in unison every time she held up a darling outfit or a neat baby item. It sounded like a celestial song being sung in a language only understood by women. It's a language of excitement and joy created by the wonder of experiencing the sacredness of having held life within your womb. It's during times like this, when my mind goes back so many years ago.  I remember  waiting with anticipation for my little ones to arrive. I would sit in the empty nursery with a blanket or clothing, and imagine in a few short days the item being filled with a squirming bundle of beautiful joy. Oh how I miss those days.

Perfect World

I sat on the front steps this afternoon and watched as the elementary school on the corner let out. Little ones with their backpacks on, tiny fingers clasped tightly in the hands of moms as they crossed the street to their minivans with booster seats... It all seemed so sweet and innocent and oh so far away.  Seems like in a perfect world you would be allowed to hold them tightly in your lap forever, never letting go... But in a perfect world you wouldn't have to worry about letting them go, because no one or no thing would mean them any harm. This isn't a perfect world and forever in my lap isn't possible... But oh if it were, all would be right...

What Is That in The Driveway?!?!?

Yesterday I had one of those most embarrassing "You're a bad Mom" moments. I've had a lot of those over the last 28 years. I was sitting at break enjoying a game of brick breaker on my cell phone, listening to my co-workers chat about this and that. I wasn't paying close attention, just enough attention to add my wisdom when and where I thought it seemed appropriate (so mostly I was sitting there with my mouth shut). The subject turned to school activities, when one of the girls asked me what grade my youngest was going to be next year. hmmm, uhhh, regardless of how hard I thought, I couldn't remember. Than one of them asked... "Was last year his first year of high school?" I know I had to have looked stunned when I said... "I don't remember anything about his school year last year." and they certainly looked stunned. Hey! I was trying to recover from that stupid head injury! The rest of the afternoon I sat at my desk trying to dig out some remnant of memory I had about school last year. Notta, zip, zilch! And The World's Worst Mother Award goes to...... Me. On their death beds Mothers are suppose to remember every pet name you had for every little thing. They are suppose to remember the month, hour and second of when you got your first hair cut and have snippets of hair with details of the event written up and preserved for your childrens childrens children to read. Any yes, Moms are suppose to remember what grade you are currently in regardless of how much of their brain is or isn't functioning. That's just what is expected of good Moms (insert pouty face here). When I replayed break for my husband after work, he wrapped his arms around me and tenderly assured me that I was a good Mom (in spite of my pitiful memory... my words not his). This morning I hesitated at the breakfast table while I was on my way out the door. I reminded my husband that our baby boy (who is currently a sophomore in high school), would be headed to Oklahoma City to work with his brother at The Plant Stand after school, and that he would be gone all weekend. This is his first out of town trip by himself and I am a little uncertain about it. He carefully ran over all the reasons why everything would be fine and why this would be a good experience, then asked me what I thought.... "Well, I don't even think he should be allowed to drive because he's just a little baby.... That's what I think!" He laughed and said it did seem like just yesterday when he would pick him up from daycare and give him little Star Wars characters as an afternoon surprise. He's growing up and we have to start letting go. "Fine, just fine!" I thought as I walked out the front door. I may not be the best Mom in the world but I'm pretty certain that if I lay prostrate in the driveway so he would either have to run over me to leave or just stay home this weekend, that he likes me enough not to floorboard it and plow over my pitiful self. But then again, I'm not really certain I should take that chance. Ugh, being a Mom.... even a mediocre Mom is difficult.

The Power of Love

We enjoyed a beautiful, although hot weekend. My son and his two best friends opened a seasonal flower shop (The Plant Stand). We went to see how things were going and of course to pick up some flowers for the front flower bed. They were busy little bees buzzing around taking care of customers and their plants. It was quite heartwarming to see them doing what they've always said they wanted to do.... Have a business together. My son gestured to his shorts, tee shirt, and flip flops and said... "This is my working attire." with a big grin. Indeed, the boy has never had a desire to hold a job that required him to wear shoes. I'll admit that I'm as green thumbless as a person can be. There is a large brick planter I acquired when I began working where I now work. When I started there was a huge tree (of sorts), and some fern things planted in it. They weren't thriving, but they were alive (were being the key word there). After everything was dead and gone I could work guilt free because I had nothing struggling to survive in my area... Until.... The other day a co-worker noted.... "Oh, you planted plants!" Hmm, no I really

No shoes, no problem

didn't, but heaven help the person who did. Why would someone do that do me? The culprit was found and will be severely punished by being the one responsible for the, well whatever is required to keep them alive. That being said, I had to buy plants from my son. A few years ago for Mother's Day he brought me a trunk full of flowers and built a flower bed. The fact that I diligently watered, fed, and maintained the flowers through the season, speaks volumes about the power of a Mother's love. I'm hoping the fact that I bought the plants from him will give me the same determination to keep these alive as well. I did find that shopping for plants for a sunny flower bed is much more enjoyable than the actual planting of said plants in the Oklahoma hot weather. I guess it's like a lot of things in life... The thinking of doing it is more fun than the actual work of doing it. But love conquers all things and I'm hoping that includes my greenless thumb condition.

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.

Kids... The evolving gift

It really is the truth that if you had 10 kids.... or 19 kids and counting, they would each one be different. It always amazes me how you can speak to adult siblings, raised in the same house, by the same parents and yet the vision of their childhoods seem totally different. I guess it's not so much how you're raised, but how you view how you were raised. Because of the age difference between my first two children and my third, it's been like having two separate families. My youngest child has practically been an only child. Both his brother and sister have been out of the house for several years. The difference between the two families are just amazing. When my first two were growing up, there was constant fussing, fighting, you know the typical... "She's looking at me!" scenario. The house definitely had more of a high energy vibe to it back then. I thought my second child was going to be the quiet one, for about two days till I got him home. So when number three came along I reserved judgement on what he would be like, cause you just never can tell. He actually is my quiet one. People often say "Oh, I bet he's not that quiet at home." and I tell them "Oh yeah, he is that quiet at home." But the curious difference between him and the first two are his organizational skills and somewhat OCD ability to have a place for everything and have everything in it's place. The other day when he was gone the dogs got his door opened and went into his room. They rumpled the covers a little before I shewed them out. I straightened everything so he wouldn't know. He hates for them to be in there and doesn't like anything moved..... ANYTHING! He came home, walked straight into his room and right back out again. "Mom, were the dogs in my room?" I told him they were but I ran them out and they didn't mess anything up.I asked him how he could tell they had been in there... "I could just tell." He said.  "I don't like them in here." That just cracked me up. This weekend I was cleaning house and I went in his room to vacuum and mop. Except for a few little dust bunnies, his room was spotless... SPOTLESS! When my older kids lived at home, I never worried about vacuuming their rooms because I couldn't see the floor to know if it needed vacuuming! As teenagers,  their room was their space and I allowed them to keep it (or not keep it) anyway they wanted it (it wasn't usually pretty). Amazingly they have both turned into nice tidy adults, so I guess that means I wasn't the WORST Mom ever (there's that refrigerator Mom you may have heard of). I don't mind being honest and saying that any neat genes they got, came from their Father. I've always wished I had just a tiny bit of anal in me, but it just wasn't to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a slob.... I'm just very relaxed. When I look at my kids I see a refreshing mixture of my husband and I with a heavy dose of originality in each one of them. I think that is what makes parenting so much fun... It's like a gift that has layers and layers of wrapping and as each layer is unwrapped the gift just keeps evolving making being a parent a process that never gets boring.

A Splash of Crimson.... Only God Knows

An artist fond of pastels painstakingly selected her colors for the painting she would create… The softest of pinks, the palest of blues, with hues of lavender and green. With a gentle touch, a whimsical picture began to unfold. Under a sky filled with puffy white clouds stood a cottage with gingerbread trim. Children played on the lawn, carefree and happy on a perfect spring day. The painting was just as soft as she envisioned it would be. A few finishing touches and she would be done. Suddenly a loud rapping pierced the solitude of the moment jarring her from the dreamlike state. She opened the front door and found herself face to face with a faceless stranger. Without invitation the stranger strolled past her and walked over to the painting. With disbelief she watched as the faceless stranger tossed something on the painting. Crimson ran down the canvass distorting the soft lines of the landscape. Without a word the faceless stranger turned and walked out the door leaving her breathless and broken. She had spent a lifetime creating this painting. Each and every color was chosen with care. Just that quickly it had been changed. What was she to do? Could it possibly be salvaged? How could she possibly incorporate the harsh crimson with the soft pastels together in the same painting? It must be done or the painting would be trashed. With uncertainty she began to work the canvass. A brush stroke here, a smudge there and a new, yet lovely picture began to emerge. Splashes of crimson on the wings of a butterfly stood out against the blue sky. Red tulips edged the walkway up to the cottage. Splashes of crimson on a pastel canvass brought texture and depth to a painting that had been planned to perfection. Certainly crimson wasn’t the color of choice, but it did add something to the painting.  She stood back not really understanding why her picture had been changed, but she accepted the changes and even had to smile at the irony of contrast between what she had planned and what now was. Sometimes life without warning will add a splash of color to your painting and all you can do is incorporate the color so that something of beauty emerges from something of pain. Only God knows…..

Caleb's Prayer

Today is the first day of school which is Always a bittersweet time for students who are anxious to be back with their friends, but who still want to sleep in with no responsibilities. I think I'll always feel that twinge of excitement in the air on the first day of school, even when I have no more kids in school. As driving to work this morning I saw kids huddled together in their yards, little kids with back packs holding tightly to their Momma's hand as they walked to their first day of the elementary school that is down the street from us. I know several teachers that have been gearing up to get back in the swing of things and who have been spending the last several evenings of their summer getting their rooms ready for the eager little minds that will arrive today. As much as I'd like to put my baby in a bubble where only positive influences can get through to him, I know that real strength comes from the trials and tribulation of day to day decisions and hard choices. My best option is to cover him in prayer like I have my other two kids who are now out on their own. My prayer is: "Lord, keep a hand of protection on him. Lead him and guide him in all things. Build a hedge of protection around his mind, body and soul and fill him with your wisdom. Make your way bright before him and give him courage to walk in that light. Give him strength to stand for what is right. Give him favor with those that have authority over him, and bless him so that he can be a blessing to others".

Could Be Worse, Could Be Hot Wings @ Hooters

The heat index is 116+ today.... Yay! That's summer in Oklahoma for you. I come home to find 3 teenage boys in my bathroom huddled around the sink. Now just speaking from personal experience with other teenage boys.... This might need a little investigation. So in my best stern Momma voice I inquire "Hey, whatya'll (yes that is one word, I'm from Oklahoma) doin in there?!" The 3 bleach blond heads (heads only, no eyes could be seen on any of them) pop out the bathroom door. "We're flat ironing our hair." This was something I just had to see. I walk in and inspect their efforts only to inform them..... "Ya'll are doin it allll wrong!" They look a little defeated so I said... "Here, let me show you how to really do it right." During the remainder of my lunch hour I taught 3 teenage boys the technique of flat ironing your hair and the importance of having the right "product" available to give it that finishing touch. I"m almost done when I ask my Son if he's "Going for a particular look?" He tells me yeah, there's this band guy whose hair he really likes. With just a few minute left I tell him to run downstairs and google the guy so I can figure out what needs to be done. Technology truly is a pretty cool thing. So I see what we're going for... I do a little touch up, and he's ready to go. Personally, I would much rather him go for one of the Jonas Brother's look, but if he wants to go around town looking like a throw back to the Beatles early years then who am I to judge. It could be worse.... He could be smokin dope and eatin hot wings at Hooters behind my back... (Side note: Yes, eatin hot wings at Hooters is one of my top 10 things you don't let your Mom know you're doing list..... You know who you are out there, I'm watching you !)

Paw Prints and Permits

Well, it finally happened. My 15 year old got his drivers permit. I know from experience that the time will now began to fly by at a neck breaking pace and before you know it.... he too will be flying from my nest. Preparations of my heart began years ago, but I know that all of the preparation in the world won't keep little cracks at bay once that house is finally quiet of heavy metal christian music. LOL! Oh well, it's all good. Anywho.... I thought I'd let him drive me to Nana's (which is right around the corner), the other day. Actually I was going to walk my dog over there but thought hey, he can just drive me. Since I already had Sailor Girl collared up and she was anxious to get on our way I figured she could go along for the ride. There was just one.... well several problems with that idea. Problem #1 is, she gets really anxious during car rides and wants to sit in your lap. I figured I could solve this problem by sitting in the back with her so maybe she would be a little more at ease. Problem #2 is, she is really the wrong size for the car, the wrong size for my lap, pretty much the wrong size for anything other than being saddled up for a ride. If the record for stuffing people into a VW Beetle  is 19 (they were bankers so they had unusually large heads), then I should be able to get all of Sailor Girl into my Chrysler. I got in the back seat first and amazingly she wasn't too skittish about going in. We did have a hard time getting her tail to stay inside the car while we shut the door.... It kept wanting to fly out. Problem #3 was, my Son couldn't see anything in the rear view mirror, nor could he see anything out the back window because from floor to ceiling there was nothing but dog (with a little bit of Momma squished in). Needless to say we did manage to get to Nana's and back in one piece. I have several paw print bruises but I'm used to those, and my son has decided it's more fun to drive with just Daddy in the car since Mom's mind is always going in several directions at once. That's fine with me. I taught our daughter to drive and after that I pretty much feel like I've paid my parenting dues and now it's Dad's turn. Like I said, it's all good, but it's all going too fast.