Our God is FAITHFUL

An urgent knock sounded at the front door. We welcomed two precious friends we have known for years. We sat and talked about our children who have been best friends since before they were born. We met when we were both expecting and they were born within months of each other. They have remained true and steadfast friends regardless of time or distance. Now they both struggle with the awkward time between being a child and truly being an independent adult. Our friends hearts were breaking because they just learned that the child they have loved and raised in a loving Christian home, was declaring himself agnostic. I didn't gasp in amazement or shock, as our son had made the same declaration a couple of years ago. I remember clear as day when he told me he didn't believe. As he said the words I could tell he expected a fierce reaction.... He didn't get one. I simply shook my head, nestled back into the couch and said.... "That's fine. I trust that God will reveal himself to you in His time."  I remember him looking at me like.... "That's it? That's all you're going to say?" He expected outrage, he expected anger, he expected shock.... All he got was.... "God will reveal himself to you." I could tell thought my reaction was anticlimactic. It wasn't, it was and is my genuine belief that each person must at some point seek out their own salvation. We have to know, that we know, that we know, to the very core of who we are, not because of how we were raised, not because of where we went to church, but because God has revealed himself to us in a real way that calls our hearts to him. To our friends, the shock was still fresh and it was new.... Painful. As a parent, the immediate reaction is to blame ourselves..... "Where did we go wrong? What did we do, or not do right?" My husband and I have already tumbled down that path until I finally come to this understanding. Our son was born on October 19, 1994. Christmas fell on a Sunday that year and on Christmas morning my husband and I stood before the alter and gave this child that he had entrusted to us back to him. We vowed to raise him in our faith and to teach him God's ways. We have been faithful to that vow. We ensured that he was surrounded by others who were strong in their faith. We poured into his life and allowed others to pour into his life as well. I have not rescinded the vow I made. I have not removed him from God's hands, nor has God removed him. My son may run from God's presence,  but he cannot escape God's hand, nor his plan. At some point..... The Spirit will draw him. He may reach a very dark places before God reveals himself, but I am trusting that God WILL reveal himself. The foundation on which he was raised, is firm.... And it is sure. It may be shaken, but it will not shift.... It will not crumble. God's word says "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." (Proverbs 22:6) My son may run, he may hide, he may deny, but the seeds that were faithfully sown into his life will not leave him. In God's time, those seeds will bear fruit. Until then.... We wait.... We pray.... We trust....  Our God is Faithful.

That Changes Everything

It took me forever to get ready this morning.  I took extra care getting my eye shadow applied just right. I coiffed my hair bump to beauty pageant height. I did my nails the night before making sure they coordinated with the shirt I had picked out.  I checked myself out, twirling twice in the mirror, took a deep breath and stepped out of my girl cave and into our bedroom.  My husband looked up and as if on cue said... "You look really pretty!"  I cocked my head and questioned him... "Do I look like a grandma?"  In my mind I was chanting... "Dear God, please say no, please say no."  In a nanno second flash, his right eyebrow shot up, he gave me a genuinely naughty smile and said...  "No!  I assure you, you don't look like a grandma."  Then he wrapped me in a sweet hug.  Cha-ching!  He just made a huge deposit into his "love account".

Today was the baby shower for my grand baby, little PitterPatter who has yet to be named. I am told a name will not be given until it has been divinely revealed to the parents, and not a minute before.  This is when I worry about things like... "God's timing isn't always our timing." and silly little things only the faithless sweat over... I can hear my son, the ever carefree lad that he is, assuring me... "It will be right as rain mom, right as rain."  When I look into his smiling eyes just seconds before I feel a meltdown coming on, I can believe it will be right as rain, but I'd feel SO much better if he simply chose one of the stunning combination of names I've sent him for weeks on end.  He doesn't like pressure and he hates to conform, so then I worry that my suggestions pushed him to the edge of a cliff leaving my grand baby with no name.... "Oh Holy Spirit, please speak now."  There will be nothing conventional about this birth, just as there has been nothing conventional about my son (which is one of his most endearing qualities), but is also a big hurdle for an event planner (EVENT PLANNER, not control freak... Event Planner), like myself. The lack of wedding planning almost sent me over the edge simply because I didn't have anything to stress over because we were just supposed to show up and things would magically happen like a herd of fairy godmothers showed up, sprinkled pixie dust and waa-laa, behold a magical wedding at the foothills of Colorado done with absolute perfection and perfectly them in every way.  That is how these two love birds roll. With all that I am, I'm doing my best to "go with the flow", to be a "I'm totally down with that", natural born, low maintenance, tree hugging, laid back Lolli prepared to adhere to all the written in stone boundaries like "no dangling my grandchild by his ankles over a balcony" or "spiking his pumped breast milk with high fructose syrup." As if I would do any of those things in the first place! The list goes on (I'm sure), but those are the high points. Today's parenting is a new frontier.  The new generation of parents believe in the age old theory that one generation gleans from the mistakes of the previous generation, tosses them into the recycle bin, creating a parenting revolution so far above the standards of generations past, that all of our sage advice and hands-on experience is nothing but filthy rags like the pointless righteousness of the Pharisees. This will be like teaching a old dog new tricks (I would be the old dog in this analogy). Grandparenting by gut instinct will not be enough.  This child will be raised by a new generation (which is a good thing because I'm really tired).  I'm not the one in charge (Thank you Jesus), and that changes everything.

She Made the Dress

This weekend I had the pleasure of playing Aunt JacJac to my best friend’s daughter. The three of us went to Dallas “Prom Dress Shopping”.  I was so excited to have the chance to spend the day with them; getting to shop was just the cherry on the top.  She had one destination in mind, her mother and I had several because shopping and shopping should always be balanced with eating and eating really good stuff. We started at 9 a.m. and were determined to make the day all about her. The drive to Dallas was quick and easy as unbridled excitement hung in the air. I was excited, but since I remember shopping with my teenage girl, my excitement was tempered
by experience.  In this case the stress wasn’t on my shoulders. My job was to stay calm and referee if needed…. When shopping with a teenager and her mom a referee is ALWAYS a good idea. When I was in high school, prom wasn’t a big deal to me. I saw a dress in a store window at the mall where I worked. I put the dress in lay-away and later when I found my friend had unintentionally bought the same dress, we were both tickled pink in a Scarlett O’Hara kind of way. Things certainly have changed.The store was “Whatchamacallit”. It looked benign enough on the outside, but inside a new story began to unfold. When I say I was shocked when I walked in, I’m not exaggerating one tiny bit. It was like a 1000 cotton candy blowers exploded at the same time. The acres of dress racks were so tightly packed, you literally had to maneuver between them by doing the breast stroke as if swimming in a pool. I did not see one small child and I know why; if a child got lost beneath the sea of tulle, sequins and beads, they would never be found. My heart broke a million times Saturday as I saw my little princess become overwhelmed with the magnitude of the decision, the frustration of the process and the intense heat inside the dressing room. When I finally detected a meltdown was close, I suggested we all take a break, go eat something magnificent and give her have a chance to process her choices. We ate lunch at PF Chang’s and then back into the battle we went. At the end of the day we sat on the couch outside the dressing rooms. Actually, I think I had more or less melted into the couch itself; if we looked anything like we felt,then we looked like we had been dragged behind wild horses for several miles in the dry dusty dessert. A woman with her daughter in tow, walked up to the couch and asked… “May I ask you what the best way to attack this store is? What’s the secret?” In all seriousness I told her straight up…. “ With Xanax and a bottle of wine!” Yes, I was exhausted! I have no idea what time we finally walked out of the store, but the fact we were on a first name basis with most of the personnel should give you a good idea as to the number of hours we were there. I do know the three of us were physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Oh how I wish she could see herself through my eyes. True beauty begins inside and bubbles its way outward, it believes in you regardless of the direction society trends and it walks to the beat of an inner drum with no regrets and no hesitation… She looked amazing in every single dress she tried on. She is simply a stunningly beautiful girl. Although the final selection was beautiful, and I loved seeing the smile on her face, the simple truth is… She made the dress, the dress didn’t make her. XOXOXO my Sweet One. Thank you for the amazing memory and the oh so many laughs. Your Aunt JacJac couldn’t be more proud.

Life Written in Shorthand

I’ve felt kind of manic today…. Sleep deprivation and too much Plexus Slim will do that to you. Oddly enough, I haven’t written in my journal since January 21^st. I’ve picked it up several times, only to solemnly put it down. I can’t seem to bring myself to journal the last few weeks, but I haven’t had a problem blogging; I find that odd. It’s probably a Mother issue (isn’t everything?). I’ve kept a journal since I was really young. When I was in high school, I had a sense that Mom would read my journal, so I would boobie trap it. I'd lay it on my night stand and place the pen in a certain direction so I’d know if she’d been snooping. I wasn’t prone to rebellion, but if I had a certain something that I didn’t want Mom to know, I’d journal that portion in shorthand, mainly just to drive her nuts. After all, isn’t that what being a daughter is all about.  Life written in shorthand has got to be more interesting the life written in longhand, or so I thought 35 years ago.

Some Elbow Grease Required

We snuggled under last night after a day of cleaning and painting. We took Daddy along to help my daughter move from her apartment into a house owned by my Son. The last few years the house had been rented by college boys. My daughter is military OCD and without going into great detail, the condition of the house was not vacated with her standard of clean. When I called to see how the walk through had gone, my son said.... "Well, not too bad, she just has a blank look on her face. I hung up the phone and told my Dad... "the blank look comes just prior to a total meltdown. Seconds later my cell phone rang and I

answered it to sobs of hysteria on the other end. Without her saying a word, I assured her there wasn't anything so dirty that it couldn't be cleaned and told her the rescue team was just minutes away.  When we got to the house, the curb was piled with loads of stuff that had been left behind. We took a deep breath, donned our rubber gloves and dived in. She was out getting supplies. When she pulled up I went out to greet her. She opened the door and started to apologize.... "I feel so bad that after the week you've had, you're here helping me. I assured her we were fine. Papa never sits still anyway,  if he wasn't cleaning at her house, he would be cleaning at his house so basically we're doing the same thing just in a different location. "Remember" I assured her..."don't look at how things are, look at how they can be." Everything will eventually be in tip top ship shape, it will just take a lot of elbow grease and a positive attitude.

Invisible Warrior

The silence of the night swallows your screams

Nobody hears you

Every effort to move your laden limbs are futile

No one sees your struggle

You reach your hand to grasp one in danger

They slip right through your fingers

Cries of desperation echo back

They are swallowed by ears of stone

A flood of tears threaten to drown you

You cry alone

Instinctual fears cinch your heart

No one shows concern

               Pleas of urgent needs pour from your soul

               No credence given

               You are an invisible warrior

               The battle rages,

but your eyes are the only ones that see.

 There are people all around you, how can this be?

Every effort is made to make you doubt that which

cannot be explain... You. Just. Know!

Without the help of others, you battle on,

because that's what invisible warriors do.

              

Herding Kittens and the Perfectly Depicted Petulant Persian

It can be a challenge to get all my adult children, their spouses and/or girlfriends/boyfriends all together at the same place and time to celebrate life's little moments. I have found it makes it easier, if we go to them instead of waiting for them to come to us. This weekend the life moment we celebrated was my youngest son's 19th birthday. Since they all work and two of them are in college and work, we were happy we found a time when we could get them all together. My parents got to join us and my son's girlfriends mom got to join us as well. The only two that were

Former squirmy toddler

missing was my brother and his wife. When the kids were growing up, we always carved pumpkins. Well, I say that, but my oldest son says I carved pumpkins while he ran up and down the streets, which sounds a tad more accurate because it was a challenge

The quiet one and his lady

to get him to sit still long enough to do much of anything. Rabbit trail warning, I'm sure if he was running up and down the streets in the fall, he most likely was barefoot as that was his usual attire regardless of how many neighbors called

Some serious tools

to tell me the exact temperature and ask did I know he was playing out in that kind of weather barefoot. What can I say? The boy liked naked feet, maybe it made him feel at one with nature, or the truth of the matter

Very focused work

was, he just couldn't be chased and held down long enough to get them on him and as a parent of mediocre quality, I learned to pick my battle and the shoe battle was one battle I opted out of. Back on track..... We gathered at my daughter's apartment which is pretty dang small when you get that many people in there. My Mother likes to be in the middle of everything, but finally I

Make a wish

convinced her to take a seat, because there was no room for her to be in the middle of. My Dad who has no clue he is severely ADHD, did great. Much like my son, he isn't one for sitting around, but there were too many people in the apartment for him to pace so

So cute

he had no choice but to sit, relax and enjoy the chaos of it all. After a grilled burger dinner and birthday cake, we divvied up the pumpkins, brought out the tools and let our artistic juices flow. My husband went with the tried and true standard happy Jack, my Son and his wife went with a Harry Potter look alike and my Son and his girlfriend did

Daughter-in-law (Love her!)

a Persian Cat without a stencil. She is an amazing artist and did her masterpiece by looking at a picture on her phone. I went with a non- traditional scrolly heart, which I thought was very pretty until my daughter leaned over my shoulder and asked if I was carving a woman's reproductive organs. That's just wrong on so many levels. I worked and worked on it, but every scrolly thingie I carved, did kind of resemble a fallopian tube. Finally, I gave up and brought it home to modify and finish.... I'm still not sure I'm done with it yet, I don't want to sit it out on Halloween night only to be accused of  displaying inappropriate anatomy lessons to the neighborhood 5 year olds. Hands down the winner of the carving party was the Persian Cat. Our family has a soft spot for smushed faces anyway and the pouty pumpkin perfectly depicted a petulant
Persian. We had a great memory making day. When I got home, I felt like I had herded kittens and wrestled walruses, loving every minute of it.

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!!?

Wrestling Walruses

I hate epiphanies that results in me knowing that if karma is everything they say she is.... I'm in HUGE trouble.  I had one of those moments yesterday... Well, I had several hours of those moments yesterday. I went in with a deep breath telling myself to remain calm and to be sweet, sweet, sweet and patience, patience, patience. By the end of the day, I was sitting in a dark corner with a girlfriend as we shared our walrus of the day stories. Her walruses are different than my walruses, but I'm almost certain everyone has a walrus or two hidden in their closet. After a long silence yesterday afternoon, I turned to walrus #1 and asked..... "How much medication would I have to take to bring me to a long state of unconsciousness, without tipping me over the edge?" The walrus looked at me with great big walrus eyes and asked..... "Are your nerves that bad?"  I wasn't serious, of course I wasn't serious....  But, in the moment I sincerely wanted Calgon to take me away and possibly never bring me back. During the day I texted a friend who had successfully wrestled her walruses several years ago..... She texted me back, reminded me that her wrestling days were over, but she would be in the corner cheering me on. My other girlfriend said she found a sign the other day that said..... "I've thought more about running away from home as an adult than I ever did as a child." Boy, ain't that the truth!....  Yesterday was a wake up call for me to work on my interpersonal relationship skills... So I am..... More patient... and so my hospitality has more hospitable in it than it has hostility. To better prepared myself for this wrestling career, I'm thinking of taking some of those workshops they give at Lowe's like "How to nail jello to a wall" (that would have come in handy yesterday) and other skills needed for wrestling something that's slippery with no arms.


P.S. In case you're wondering, my walrus is NOT my husband. He is my biggest fan every day, not just during the WWC (Walrus Wrestling Championships) .

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.

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.

Guilt Trip to Nowhere

My Motto

Being a parent isn't easy. Those cute little bundles of love do not come with instruction manuals tied to their toes and just when you think you've got it figured out, some psychologist comes out with the newest and greatest book debunking all of the parenting methods you've been using. That's why I rarely read parenting books, it was  confusing. After talking to other women, I'm happy to know that I'm not the only one who thinks so. You would think that after the kids are grown and gone you could ease up a little on yourself, but I'm finding out that isn't the way parenting works. Adult children are like the gift that keeps on giving... In the guilt trip department. You finally think you can see light at the end of the parenting tunnel where you can sleep peacefully at night knowing you did your best, then they come up with how your parenting methods were all wrong. Everything you did was unhealthy, harmful, hurtful, or just politically incorrect... As if we didn't know we weren't perfect to begin with. I've done it to my mom, my kids have done it me and my friends kids have done it to them. Everyone has a laundry list of things we wish we would have done differently, times we wish we would have had more patience, and opportunities we missed to impart valuable wisdom instead of freaking out like a mob boss. But life is a trial and error situation with no do-overs and that's why God made psychologist and shrinks (and possibly Prozac) and warns against older women be given to too much wine... Your kids can drive you to drink! (LOL) Seriously, if you went to a psychologist without a mind blowing mother story, you'd be immediately admitted to the psych ward until you remembered the esteem shattering thing she did to turn you into the dark and twisty being you are today. Dads rarely get the bad rap moms do. A friend of mine used to laugh at me when I would tell her my mother/daughter stories.... And then she had one herself. A little part of her thought I exaggerated the drama until her daughter got old enough to walk and talk. Exactly why do moms get all of the attitude? We get the dirty diapers, the spit up, the attitude and then the "You should of's" while good ole dads plays dumb and gets a pass. You know why dads get a pass? It's because men don't do guilt trips. You can send a woman on a guilt trip because the Dairy Queen got your order wrong, but a man isn't going to go there. If a grown kid went to their dad with the idea of sending him on a guilt trip, the man would give them the famous blank look, leaving the child no satisfaction at all. A mother on the other hand will pack her bags, buy her own plane ticket to guilt trip island, never to return again, or until one of her girlfriends comes by to slap some sense
into her and demand she snap out of it and put her granny panties on. Guilt is  something most women naturally believe we deserve for some reasons (probably because of our moms). A therapist I know puts it this way... Okay, so (insert esteem shattering event here) happened when you were a child, now you're an adult and you're the one responsible for your attitude and the direction your life is going... Whatcha gonna do about it?

The greatest line of all Simpson episodes was this.....

Marge: I'm tired of looking like the world's worst mother.

Homer: Oh, honey, you're not the world's worst mother. What about that freezer lady in Georgia?

Story of my life.

June 14th, 1983

I sat in the sunshine yellow nursery, with a lap full of baby clothes, imagining that any day, they would be filled the pudgy cheeks of a wee one. I had painted half a rainbow on the wall over the crib where my little pot o' gold would sleep. I worked in.... You're going to find this hard to believe, but yes, a small shoe store in the mall. Even 9 months pregnant, I could rock a pair of stilettos, just to prove I could. Two weeks before my due date, the owner became a little jumpy. Every time I'd go to the bathroom, I'd come out to find her waiting by the door... Making sure everything was okay. "Yep, I'm still pregnant." Finally, when her nerves couldn't stand watching me waddle around in heels all day, she urged me to take off earlier than I had planned... I complied because I knew it would make her feel better. Not working those two weeks, gave me plenty of time to nest. One night my husband woke up to find me organizing paper sacks in the kitchen closet. The Lamaze classes had been completed. My bags were packed with the list they gave me from Lamaze class. My focal point was an advertisement I ripped from a magazine. It showed a bottle of amber liquor being poured into a glass stiletto (very cool, the stiletto not the liquor). My parents were on standby in Tulsa waiting for the.... "It's Time!" call. I rocked and I waited, I waited and I rocked. More than anything in the world, I wanted to be a mother. In the evenings my husband would play basketball downtown with the guys. I would walk downtown, then we would walk back home together. Tuesday evening, June 14, 1983, was the last time I walked downtown as an ordinary woman. The next time I took a walk, I'd be a Mom. I'd walk with the responsibility of teaching my child to reach for the stars and capture them in their hand, like they had my heart. I was ready (or so I thought), let the journey begin.

Cords of Love

Jenny and her friends

This weekend my friend hosted a Tea for her daughter and her two closest friends and their moms. She asked if I would decorate for it. There are fewer things that I enjoy more than preparing for special occasion for someone I love. The theme I selected was "The Key to Success". I made banners with wisdom quotes and scriptures. I made a wisdom tree and adorned it with skeleton keys and wisdom tags. The tablecloth was an unfinished quilt top that
has a special meaning to me. I got to use my e mis-matched china for the first time. I put candles on the mantel, pictures on the hearth with skeleton key chatskis laying around. It wasn't anything fancy and it wasn't anything anyone else couldn't do, but I enjoyed it so much because it was for someone so special to me. Another friend of ours gave a devotion called "Living in a Small Town". It was a precious reminder that although living in a small town has it's down side, the benefits
far outweigh the negative. Our families have been knitted together with cords of love that cannot be broken and
everyone has benefited in countless ways from these relationships. Like ripples in a pond, each drop of love you allow to fall on others, will be returned to you tenfold. My heart is full of pride to see Jenny grow into everything God created her to be and I'll be on the sidelines every step of the way cheering her on as she continues her journey.

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.