Love, Loss, and Rolling On

My world got a little darker yesterday. Oh, who am I kidding - it got a lot darker. I lost someone who, though not a part of my every day life, is a part of the best parts of me. Someone I have thought of fondly at least once a week for 23 years. One of the best men I've ever known.

Dr. Ronnie Davis.

Mr. Davis, as I knew him, or "Big D" as my best friend and I christened him our freshman year, was our band director. You might think he's just a teacher, someone I saw for a couple of hours every day. Just a teacher? No. Dr. Davis was more than a teacher; he was a father. A mentor. A spiritual advisor. An encourager. A beast with a loud, rumbling voice. A giant of a man with a strong temper and incredible aim. He was able to fling a pair of drumsticks halfway across a football field and stick them in the ground at your feet. He could scare the bujeezus out of you one minute, then hug you and make you laugh the next. He believed in hard work and expected the best you could give, every minute. He refused to settle for less and because of it, he made everyone around him and under his direction a better person, a better musician, a better student, a better friend. He was all of these things, and more.

My marching band career began under another wonderful man, Mr. Ben Ferguson. In 8th grade, I learned the basics of a marching show, how to support my team, and I began to learn how to trust. Mr. Ferg would always have me laughing. He was kind, gentle, and supportive. He is still all of those things, and I count him as a life long friend.

Then came high school.

Oh my gosh, you can't imagine how overwhelming it was. Such a large group, so many older students, a big field, a big school. I remember sitting in woodwind sectional, looking around at the juniors and seniors and feeling so very small. I was a shy, self conscious girl from an abused home. Lonely, anxious, but excited. I had absolutely no idea of the journey I was starting.

I was flat out terrified of Big D - for about 1 day. By the end of my first day of band camp, I loved him devotedly. Basic block, drill downs, roll your toes, Rookie Day - it's all a big, wonderful blur. As many times as the low brass section rolled his truck in toilet paper, I never saw him get angry...but screw up in practice and "You're BEhind!" he would roar. His face would get red, he would yell, and we would run back and do it again and again. Halfway through learning drill, he pulled me out of line, switched me with another person, and made me learn all new drill as a line leader. I thought he was crazy, but he believed in my ability to learn it and learn it fast...and he was right. When he expected something, I managed not to let him down, even when I didn't believe in myself.

I have some memories that are crystal clear, that step out regularly in my dreams saying "Remember me? Wasn't I awesome?" I have others that are vague recollections, feelings, and impressions. I want to share three of these.

First: the night of our very first football game, my freshman year. We lined up on the sidelines, waiting to take the field. I was a mass of nerves, shaking in my atrocious black soled white band shoes. The stands were eerily quiet - and then a voice, louder than life, yelled "DO IT!" and the drum clicks sounded. My heart swelled so big with pride I thought I would explode. I couldn't contain the giant grin that sprung across my face, and I could see others with the same expression. I was calm, ready, and I will never, ever forget that feeling.

Second: my first band competition. Due to a flub of the drumsticks, half of the band started our second number a beat earlier than the other half. By the time we collected ourselves several measures in and got it together, my heart was in the aforementioned shoes. I'd been so excited, so sure we would rock. How could we face this catastrophe? After the performance, it felt like half of the girls were in tears. We were all in total despair. Dr. Davis moved among us, telling us not to worry, we did our best, we were still the best in his eyes. He made us feel whole again, took away the worst of our frustration and shame, and got us ready to face the wait in the stands. You can't imagine the total bliss when we ended up winning in spite of our error! I don't think my feet touched the ground that entire evening, or the next day. Big D had believed in us, and we did it! My first Grand Championship was my favorite of all time.

Lastly, my final night at PCHS. Unfortunately, I only got to be a member of the Pride of Paulding for 2 years before I was made to go to a new school. For weeks leading up to graduation, I cried  myself to sleep. That night, I clung to Dr. Davis and our assistant director Mrs. Webb. I didn't want to go. They both hugged me and told me it would be ok, but Dr. D put his arm around my shoulders and told me in no uncertain terms that he expected me to carry on the tradition of excellence at my new school. Someone had to teach the newbies how it was done. He encouraged me, urged me to take what I felt was a bad situation and use it to my advantage, and I took it to heart.

All of my best high school memories are tied up with the Pride of Paulding and Dr. Davis. Without knowing it, he taught me about pride, about teamwork, about strength, about friendship. By example he taught me about faith - faith in God by leading our prayer before every game, and faith in myself. He didn't know it, but he taught me that men could be honorable, strong, and trustworthy. When every other man I'd known, especially the one I lived with, had let me down, had intentionally hurt me, cowed me, belittled me, he gave me strength and purpose. He gave me belonging, and for that I will be forever grateful.

Big D, you touched so many lives, and so many people love you. I will never forget - as my classmate wrote what you taught us, "Pain is temporary, but the Pride is forever!"

What I Like About You - a stream of conciousness

Fall

It's fall! Or at least, it's close enough to count...My favorite time of year. Fall makes my heart happy. Fall makes me want to go shopping for boots, long skirts, and sweaters. Fall inspires my desire to cook, and calls me to come outdoors. Golden sunlight through brilliantly colored leaves uplifts my spirit. Apples, caramel, wood smoke, pumpkins, corn mazes...love, love, love!

Settling into Myself

Women are constantly being urged to reinvent themselves. Advertising constantly tells us how to make ourselves look younger, dress better, change ourselves. I'm as susceptible as the next girl, especially when it comes to makeup! Despite this, at least once a year I find myself circling back to the same thought - that I am an individual, and as people go, I'm not that bad. I feel almost as if I am settling more firmly into my own skin. Sure there are things I would like to change - everyone has those things - but overall, there are more things to love than I usually give myself credit for. I think everyone could benefit from giving themselves a loving talk. So, I'm going to be brave and try it. I am making the effort to tell myself something good every day.  I hope you will do the same for yourself - list, out loud, those things you love about yourself, those things that make you who you are. Praise yourself, love yourself for who you are and what you prize. It can make a difference in how you view yourself, and that will change how you view the world.

I like that I am a bookworm. I like that I enjoy crossword puzzles. I like that I like both tea and coffee. I like that I have such a broad taste in music. I like that I never outgrew Disney movies, musicals, and cartoons. I like that I am a sucker for babies. I like that I love rain. I like that I have a wicked sense of humor. I like that I enjoy cooking, and having a clean kitchen (note that I didn't say I like cleaning it though! =)) I like that I love my friends. I like: warm, yummy, spiced food type smells, things that make me laugh, heartwarming stories, Victorian, Regency, and 40s-50s styles, manners, loyalty, hot chocolate with marshmallows, comfort food, ruffles, sweaters, a pen that writes smoothly, candles, and so many other things that all wrap up into me. Sometimes I just need to be reminded that there are as many, if not more, good things about me than things I need to change.

Decorating and Personal Style

As I've pointed out in previous blogs, I am a decorating fiend. What I haven't mentioned, at least not that I can recall, is that I don't really have a style. My taste is very eclectic, and has changed a lot over the years. The one constant theme seems to be comfort. In my home, I want things that invite you to relax, be comfortable and cheerful. I collect scented candles, throw blankets, and pillows. I have books in every room. I like to add touches reflecting the holidays or seasons. 

In my wardrobe, I want things that are comfortable and fun to wear. It's fun to branch out though, and I've decided recently that I don't need a theme, or a style. I just need things that make me happy to wear them, or happy to use them. I have everything from jeans and sneakers to poet shirts and funky jewelry. I want to add more though - more chunky necklaces and bracelets, fun hats, prints I wouldn't normally wear. Things that add even more fun - and why not? Who says you have to stick to one genre? Just like in my library, I want variety. Recommendations are always welcome, so if there's something you love, in the home or on your body, share it with me! I am looking forward to experimenting.

Memorial Day

I admit it - I am a total sucker for American Family holidays. Fourth of July, Memorial Day - anything that promotes wearing and waving red, white, and blue, and salutes our armed forces. I crave cookouts - a little gift from my Dad and all the summers we spent grilling out in the garage, throwing block parties, listening to old music. I grew up on grilled food, and I love the smell of a grill in the summer. I want my children to associate that same smell with good times - it's a way for them to relate to the Grandpa they never got to know. Don't even get me started on baseball (Go Braves!)

I started thinking about this a couple of days ago and, as I wandered through my home I began to take note of the myriad little touches of Americana. I realized that, as crazy as I am about all things Irish, I am even more proud of my rural American roots. Yes, I frequently cringe over them, but deep inside there is a part of me that celebrates it too. Yes, my inner country girl dances to country music, gets goosebumps listening to Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA", and cheers the Sweet Home Alabama portion of the Stone Mountain Laser Show. (Can't you hear my inner red-neck screaming yee-haw? Thank you Paulding County...) =P

Here are a few touches of Americana that I ran across wandering around my home:

I love anything with the American flag on it

Josh picked this one - that's my boy, channeling his Grandpa Bill!

I find myself inwardly yearning toward those "old-fashioned" accomplishments of cooking, canning, baking, and sewing. I want to learn all of the arts that went into home-making - although I still battle against cleaning and laundry! =)

I'm not sure why or how, but chickens are a big thing in my kitchen

Signs in my yard

Part of my "months of the year" throw that I adore

My American shelf in the entertainment center. 

The Eagle and the shells are from my Dad's casket and funeral salute.

The flag that draped my Dad's coffin. 

Living with small boys, we are surrounded by superheroes. Batman, Superman, Spiderman - you name it, we've seen it, own it, or make it up. I try to take every opportunity to teach my boys about real heroes  - police, firefighters, EMTs, National Guard, and soldiers of every branch of military. When we see someone in uniform, I remind my children that these are the true heroes worthy of respect and admiration. I explain that these are the people who lay their lives on the line to keep us safe, to help us when we are hurt, afraid, or lost. I love it when I see it sinking in - Ian never fails to point out a police officer or fire truck, and he frequently wants to go and say thank you, or at least wave as we pass. I want to make the effort to instill in my boys respect, admiration, and appreciation for the heroes of this world. 

Many people look at Memorial Day as an excuse to party, have a bar-be-que, head to the lake. I say why not? These are the freedoms that soldiers fought and died for, and even a family picnic is a celebration of the sacrifice, as long as we take the time to remember the reason for the holiday! I decided this year to concentrate more on planning and celebrating these holidays with my family in the future. My hope is that, through those efforts, my sons will not only grow up with wonderful memories, but learn to honor these times as adults, and continue the traditions with their own children. Isn't that what we fight for - the freedom to raise our children in peace, and to teach them the things we believe in the most?

Though I never lost a loved one to combat, I have lost beloved family members who were servicemen, and I honor them in my heart. I miss my Dad, more each summer, and I see him in the way Ian walks, in certain things he says, and in his eyes. I respect and adore my Uncle Mack, a Vietnam Veteran who to this day is dealing with the things that he experienced. 

I am proud of my country, my family, and our armed forces. I grieve for everyone who has lost a soldier, and respectfully and prayerfully offer thanks and blessings. Happy Memorial Day, y'all.

Indulging my inner wanna-be chef

I will state right off the bat that these pictures are not good, my camera had no batteries so I took them all on my cell phone. That said....


Sunday morning, my eager, over-achiever self set out to make "Sunday Supper" for the family. I started at 9am. Yes, peeps, that's right: 9 AM. On the menu: Roasted Corn on the Cob, Biscuits with Honey Butter, Homemade Mashed Potatoes, and the pièce de ré·sis·tance - Homemade Fried Chicken.

Let us begin with:

Potatoes in the collander

As I was only making a half batch, I opted for 7 potatoes, rather than the 5 lbs the recipe called for. Washed and peeled, we have this:

Then chopped, and into the water they go:

20 minutes later, after draining the water and adding gads of butter, some milk (I was out of half and half) and some cream cheese:

Hungry yet? =) I added some Lawry's salt, regular salt, and pepper, and spread them in a baking dish. Topped it off with more butter and Lawry's, and baked for 20 to 30 min, and voila:

Yes, that IS a puddle of butter you spy on top. Yummy.

Next up: the corn. 

I opted to roast them in foil packets, rubbed with butter, salt and pepper. I've used herb butter before, but my  guys are purists - lots of butter and salt and they are happy. I roasted them at 350 degrees for about 40 min - the recipe says 450 for 8 to 10, but I had more cooking to do, so I chose the slower option. Worked out great though.

Now, the hardest part. Fried Chicken sounds easy, and yummy. What it is, is messy. (Fun, but messy.)

I started with one cut up whole chicken, soaked in buttermilk overnight. I tried Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond's recipe, and so far, like the others I've tried, it was a winner. Check out her cookbook for the exact recipe.

Breaded and ready for the fryer:

I've never used a candy/oil thermometer before, or fried anything to this extent. The hardest part was keeping the oil in the pan, and even close to the right temperature. It all worked out though, as you can see:

I finished baking the pieces in the oven, 350 degrees. It took about 15 min for the smaller pieces, but close to half an hour for the 2 breasts.

Then I whipped up some biscuits (from a can, sorry - at this point it was pushing 3+ hours of cooking) and some honey butter, and we finally got to eat. My hubby absolutely demolished his piece of chicken. I'd say that equals SUCCESS!

Now that I've tackled the biggest and most complicated dish I'd chosen, I'm ready to move on to other things. Steak with whiskey cream sauce, fried onion straws, cheese grits, and sangria anyone? Oh yeah, don't forget the olive bread!

Life is a Mother (or, busy, busy, busy...)

A couple of days ago, I had the chance to catch up with an old friend via phone. I hesitate to mention that it was via cell phone, while flying down I-75 trying desperately to get to work without being too late - but there you have it. We were attempting to coordinate our schedules and find a time to get together. Keep in mind, now, this friend only lives about 6 miles away - and yet, I have not seen her in over a year, and have only spoken to her a couple of times. When she jokingly said, "Ok, I think the schedule is clear in oh, 15 years or so..." it hit me: life as a mother translates into life is a mother.

With 2 small boys, a husband, and a job, my life is so busy I can't keep my head straight for more than 5 minutes. For example; in the next month I have soccer practices, soccer games, Awana awards, a children's musical, role playing, Cub scouts, church, work, a birthday party to plan AND execute (Ian, do you HAVE to turn 7? can't you stay 6 for a couple more years??), and a trip to Minnesota. Add into that mix her 2 kids, her husband, work, and all of our activities combined creates a calendar full of things to do, places to be, projects to handle....little time to rest, relax, kick back. (Luckily, we did manage to find one empty space to book a get together.)

I have been feeling ambitious (and guilty, I have hardly cooked for my family in months), so this weekend I am attempting homemade fried chicken, roasted corn, a new recipe for mashed potatoes, rolls, onion straws, and some form of dessert. Lord, save me - or my family, I'm not sure which. If I get ambitious enough, I might take pictures and/or post something on here about how it turns out. Maybe.

The downside to this schedule, and my lifestyle? Life comes along and kicks me in the shins every once in awhile. Take today - after the mad rush to get Ian's projects and snacks done last night I ended up sick to my stomach. Today, I lay on the sofa and slept most of the day - snuggles with Munchie were awesome, but other times I shoved food at him, thrust video games into his hands, and left the tv on a marathon of cartoons - I just couldn't move! Every inch of my body felt like it weighed a ton (hey, no snide comments here please!=)) I know exercise and caffeine were what I needed, but I couldn't get up long enough to get them. My Mom, in all her wisdom, informed me that I am exhausted. Well gee, isn't that wunderbar? Hopefully the day of mostly rest will handle that. Um, hello, universe? Take a memo: I don't have TIME to be TIRED!

This summer, in between Scouts, Choi Kwan Do, and work, I really want to make time for some fun things. I'd love to schedule a trip to Chattanooga with my boys, hit up Stone Mountain's laser show, and attend at least one baseball game. However, I absolutely must leave time for swimming, bike riding, cooking, and popsicles. Especially popsicles.

I am way behind on blogging, and boring to boot - but here comes summer, so there's hope yet!!

Changing My Mind....or at least, my Mindset

It seems like the country has jumped on the simplicity bandwagon. All of the commercials, the sitcoms, the cooking and self help shows shout the same messages. Save money! Live Better! Simplify! Grow your own food! Reduce, reuse, recycle! I love this way of thinking, and I agree with the idea. The problem is, underneath all of these grand ideals is the message "Buy our stuff to help you simplify! Spend more money to save it!" 

My best memories are the simplest ones. Popsicles, grilling out, running through the sprinkler, listening to music in the summer. Curling up with a bag of gummy bears and a book on my bed on the weekend, or when it was cold. Daydreaming out the window in the evening. Chatting on the phone with a good friend. Eating dinner every night with my family. These were the things worth doing, the things I look back on and appreciate.

Flowers from my Boys for Mother's Day

The busier life becomes, more hectic and fast paced, the less joy there is in small, simple things. I know, as an adult, that there are places to go, things to handle, schedules to keep. It's not possible to simply sit and enjoy, and let others handle everything. Still, I want to squeeze as much joy into my life as possible. It hit me, driving down the road, in the middle of a Mom-zilla episode (read: yelling at my kids for acting up) that I need to stop and breathe. Smell the roses. Drink in  the sunshine. Enjoy the little problems of child-rearing and running a household. If I spend all of my time looking forward to the day they sleep in, don't need help every five minutes, I fail to appreciate the time I have with them now. Today is the precious time. Right now is the "good old days" that I will someday look back on. There are no easy answers. Too many of us have the mindset "If I can just..." If I can just get through school...if I can just get through the summer...if I can just get the kids back into school....if only....." So much time is wasted looking forward to next week, next year, and all the while, precious todays are slipping by. 

Some of those precious moments 

I am realizing, as time passes, that there is no "quick fix" to the problems facing us. Our economy is in such serious straights that it will take years to recover. These tight times aren't temporary - they are a new way of life. This new trend of focusing on the family, making the most of the little moments, is where we should have been all along. As tempting as it is, I don't need to buy my kids the newest gadget, or every toy they just HAVE to have. They don't need my money - they need my love, support, security, and smiles. Laughter, hugs, playtime with bubbles, and safe, sweet rest are more valuable to them, and will teach them more about important things, than anything money can buy. 

The most important things in life

My daily reminders

So, I am changing my mindset. I will no longer look forward with an attitude of if just, if only, when...Instead, I will say to myself today, right now, tonight...and make the choice to change my mindset. Making the most of every day, no matter how simple or complicated, is the best choice I can make. I will still plan for the future, and think of the steps I can take toward improvement, but no longer will I think just get through today, this week, this year, and things will change.... The change is now. Inside, where it counts the most. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be a better wife, better mother, better friend, because of it.

Reassessing and Re-evaluating

I've been doing a lot of thinking these last few weeks. Friendships, family, work, school...it feels like I am constantly chasing dreams, or even stray thoughts, trying to get my life in order. The harder I try to come up with a plan, the more I seem to run in circles.

Friends I get the concept "don't make someone a priority who only makes you an afterthought." What I don't get is how to make it stop making me angry, or how to stop it from hurting. Those of you who know me know that I can be ice queen very easily - years of self defense taught me that. Only those of you who have known me a really long time know the open, giving side of me. I was once told I had a quick laugh, a quick smile - but as I've grown older I've noticed it comes more often as a sardonic smile, or a sarcastic laugh. I can remove myself from relationships that continually hurt me, but that doesn't seem to be enough. How do you get the point across to stop doing that, can't you see it hurts when someone is self righteous, blind, or worse - think they are being giving, open, friendly, and instead are mean, selfish, and sly? Don't ever take for granted a steadfast friend: one who calls you first, not last...one who won't replace you with a sister in law, trade you up for the "bigger better deal"...I have at least one of those, and I love her as dearly now as I did when we were kids.

I thank God every day that I married my best friend, even though he doesn't always get it. Call it a man vs woman thing, whatever. I am blessed with someone who will hug me when I need it, who will always make me laugh. That's priceless.

Books  Ah, books. I am rediscovering my love of reading. Not that I ever stopped - I am always in the middle of at least two stories at any given time. I'd just grown bored with it, because everything I read felt like I'd read it before, and not in a good way. My books growing up were my friends, and I knew them intimately. I read them over and over until the covers were worn and faded, and I knew exactly where the stains and smudges from my fingers would be. More recently I've missed the suspension of disbelief, the immersion in a totally different world. I got the urge to pick up a book I read years ago, and I have fallen back in love with science fiction, fantasy, and mystery. I'm torn between serching out and re-reading some of my personal classics, and diving in to some other "classics" of the genre that I've never read. Guess I will have to wander where the literary road leads me.

The work/school dilemma Ok, so I've been working part time for almost a full semester and I can already tell you, it's going to have to be one or the other. Do I concentrate on school and work toward a new career, or do I bide my time and work to pay the bills for awhile? I seriously need a way to do both, and not in an office. The folks I work with/for are good for the most part, but I miss being home with my boys, and I am struggling with school. I keep grasping at straws, and changing my mind - ideally I'd be able to pay the bills AND concentrate on school - but it's not happening yet.

I guess the gist of this is to reaffirm that I am still here, still breathing....still struggling to find the right balance for bliss. A healthy dose of family, a splash of work, a sprinkling of friends, and top the whole thing with some time to read. Oh, and a cup of tea.

OK, so I'm an addict

I was clearing out one of my kitchen drawers today, searching for all of the BoxTops I've cut out for Ian's class, and it hit me - I'm an addict. Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but it's my dirty little secret. I am totally addicted to cute stationary. The dollar spot at Target is my worst enemy. Oh, and my best friend. I pulled this out of my kitchen drawer:

And that's not the half of it. I know, somewhere, I have a box full of little notebooks and knock off post-its. I have a compulsive habit of picking up cute little spiral bound mini notebooks to keep in my purse - you know, just in case inspiration hits, or I have the all-too-familiar urge to make a list of something. I have an almost endless supply of post it notes, most from the dollar spot, with every theme imaginable. I even have my initial.

I'm also a sucker for magnets. I visited a friend in NYC a couple of years ago and her refrigerator had a ton of cute magnets covering every exposed surface. Since then, I can't pass up the magnet sets I run across - especially those involving super heroes. Or puppies. Deborah, I blame you. =)

Of course, as I walked around thinking about this, I realized it's not just the stationary. And magnets. And stickers (I have a collection I started when I was in high school and it's still growing!) I tend to collect those things that interest me. For example - I have enough makeup to keep a couple of movie sets going. I have 4 shelves of cookbooks. I have a curio cabinet full of Precious Moments figurines. My husband would tell you I have a compulsive need to put holes in the wall hanging pictures....

I can't help it, I love to decorate =)

I know the trend is simplify, simplify, simplify... and believe me, this is better than ever before. Still, I like lots of pictures on the walls - everywhere I look, I see my loved ones. Candles and happy sayings make it feel like home.

Besides, you never know when you might need to write something down....

So now you know. My dirty secret. Not so dirty after all, is it? =) Now it's time to indulge my other addictions.

Making the most of every day

I love the hustle and bustle of family life. Most of the time, anyway. I eat, sleep, and breathe homework, cartoons, cookie crumbs and milk mustaches, and crayons. Oh, and LEGOs. I feel a great sense of accomplishment when I get both kids where they need to be on time (which doesn't happen as often as it should!) When Ian was in baseball and soccer, I loved being at the ballpark. I am lucky to be able to take my boys to choir, Awana, and Scouts. Even if I do have to remind myself sometimes.

That being said, it is so important to take time every day to breathe, and soak it all in. In the middle of chaos, with dinner on the stove, kids rummaging for who knows what, and animals rubbing my ankles hoping I'll drop a bite - I have to remind myself to take a moment and savor life. When I forget, life usually comes along and smacks me in the head with a reminder. 

Around a year ago, I found out that Ian's very first teacher died suddenly of an infection. It broke my heart to think of this kind, vibrant woman just disappearing from the lives of her children so unexpectedly. It brought home to me that even when life sucks, it is still life, and needs to be appreciated. 

Every day over the last 2 years, even while pulling my hair out with frustration, I have instinctively recognized the precious gift this time has been. Being home with my boys, as tough as it has been to adjust to, is all I've ever really wanted. I am determined to cling to it, to hold on with both hands, and love the experience for what it is. Imperfect, messy, zany, unpredictable...bring it on, I say. Make the most of every day.

Begin as you mean to go on

A new year - a fresh start. New Year's Day brings a feeling of promise, of starting over. Really, it's just another day in the life - one in a row of days - but the rolling over of the calendar year makes it seem as if time is starting again. 

Year after year, I've had a list of resolutions, and most years I don't achieve them. This year, I have one resolution. More Joy. Wrapped up in that goal are many smaller actions that will need to be taken, but rather than write out another list, I am sticking with the one goal. More breathing, more loving, more playing. Less drama. I am looking forward to cultivating those things that bring me joy and peace, and cutting away those that cause me unnecessary stress. I want to pour out love on my friends, play with my children. I desire to create, to learn. I plan to organize and schedule, but only enough to keep things simple and moving smoothly. I crave enjoyment out of life.

Growing up, I loved Little House on the Prairie. I read the books over and over again. Even as an adult, I go back and re-read them occasionally. I love Ma's saying "We might as well begin as we mean to go on." That is my new personal motto. If I want change, I have to start it. Then, I have to keep it up.

So. Day one of the determined hunt for More Joy. Week one Plan: Be patient. Be kind. Be tidy. 

I'll keep you posted.

Life's Little Pleasures

I've been thinking about all of the blessings in my life, especially the little ones that I tend to take for granted. A few things in particular stood out - things that, as I experienced them, made me so warm and comforted inside that I stopped and thought, Now this is a blessing. I just had to share a few - those small, seemingly unimportant details that help make up a merry whole.

A Clean Kitchen
I have decided that my kitchen is my personal home base zone. If it is messy, I feel like a slob, even if the rest of the house is tidy. If it's clean, the rest of the house doesn't seem so daunting, regardless of its current state. Right now it is in the "mostly clean but slightly cluttered" state, which is a big improvement from the "oh my God where do I start?!" state it was in earlier.

Sunshine on Snow
Something about the way the sunbeams glisten and sparkle on snow always makes me happy. The trees are wearing lacy shawls of snowflakes, and tiny fairy diamonds are hidden in pockets and hollows of snow on the hill behind my house.

A HoneyBaked Ham sandwich and hot chocolate 
Hot chocolate is a must on a day like today. I swear I can see my breath in my living room. Chocolate is always a blessing (at least to chocoholics like myself) but hot chocolate is in a category all its own. And come on, who doesn't love a HoneyBaked Ham sandwich? Especially when you are starving after a cleaning binge.

Little boys building Lego sets and singing
Right now both of my boys are building with their Star Wars Legos and singing "Happy Birthday, Jesus". Precious and priceless.

Coca Cola
'Nuff said.


It's a few days before New Years, and as this year is winding down I've been thinking about where I was this time last year and how things have changed. Rather than an actual "resolution"  - or like I usually have, resolution LIST - instead I am determining to make improvements. I want a calmer, more stable existence, with greater happiness and joy. Looking back at where I've come from, I see the direction I need to move to achieve it. Better health, better organization, greater patience - sure. But chiefly, greater JOY.

Christmas Craziness

You know that line in Silent Night? The one that goes All is calm, all is bright? SO not my house. Every year, my holiday happiness comes about 2 months too early, and by the time it is "OK" to start preparations, it has fled screaming. Yes, it usually shows back up, in fits and spurts. I get just enough enthusiasm to think going to Toys R Us with a 6 year old in tow is a fun idea. Yes, I AM crazy, didn't you know?

I remember when I used to plan ahead. Not just think about planning ahead - actually planning. Now, Christmas Eve rolls around and I think - Oh yeah, I have to cook something. Wait, I haven't wrapped any presents yet. I get so busy trying to plan my holiday I forget to actually have my holiday. I think I need to start planning this week for next year, and have one of my famous lists ready to go in JULY.

I love the holidays, really I do. I love the excitement of the kids. I love the fairy lights on the tree - once we finally get them on and LIT. I even love the elves who visit us each year. Seriously y'all, we have elves. Three at last count. They show up when the tree is decorated and watch the boys like hawks until Christmas Eve, when they run back to make their report. Ian has decided it is his job to keep track of them, so every morning we hear: *gasp* "Mom! Dad! Look, the elf moved! It was here, now it's over there! It's leaning on a different hand!..." He talks to them, explains things, and writes them letters to take to Santa. I'm waiting for the attempted bribery to begin.

So. Time to make the checklist for tomorrow.

1) Go to the hospital to see Father in Law

2) Finish Christmas shopping (you didn't really expect me to be finished already, did you? Seriously? I had to    scrap making gifts as it is...)

3) Wrap the rest of the presents and get them under the tree (we do have some wrapped under there, they are just from other people)

4) Go to Christmas Eve Service at church. (I am determined to make it this year, unlike every other past year when I've attempted and gotten there too late to find a seat or a parking space!)

5) Have some cocoa, chill with a holiday movie before 11pm.

OK. I can do this. Really. With the help of some elves. =)

Merry Christmas everyone! Check back for my restored sanity around, say, never. Or January.

Not Far Apart...

These last couple of days have been tough ones. There was shock and worry when we heard about my husband's father being in the hospital. There's been stress getting the kids taken care of - thank God for Nana! - and the frustration of not knowing what is wrong. Doctors have been scarce, and answers not forthcoming. Then there is the sadness of seeing this man confined to a bed, hearing the rasp and wheeze of his breath over the beeps of the myriad machines attached to his body by a forest of wires. I feel helpless, unsure what to do, so I offer support and comfort the best way I can - by being there.
In a way, it reminds me of my own Dad, the day before he died. Not that I believe Andy's father is about to die, but there are similarities. Luckily for me, the amount of time my Dad was robbed of speech and recognition was short. It sucked, knowing for a month that my father was going to die soon, but in another way it was a blessing. After the first shock of the cancer, I had the precious gift of time. I had 4 weekends to be with my Dad, to talk, to listen to music, to play cards the way we did for so many summers, and to drive around and visit places he grew up. The weekend before he died, Andy, Dad, and I got to drive to all of Dad's old haunts and listen to his stories of growing up, of his teenage years, of meeting my Mom. He sang "Travelin' Man" with the CD player, over and over. For a time, you could almost believe the cancer was a lie. He was so vibrant, so alive. That was the last time Andy saw him - the next weekend I got there and he was almost unable to speak. He managed to say "I love you" to me, and from that time on, he didn't talk again. The next night he died.
When Dad first died, I felt he was far away. I cried over the chances I'd lost to spend time with him, the fact that I'd never feel him hug me again, or tell me I was his "favorite little girl in the whole wide world."  My comfort was the irreverent image of him at a bar in Heaven, singing, drinking and smoking with his heroes - Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby, Rick Nelson. Instead, as the years have passed there have been times I felt he was close. I could almost smell him: that combination of cigarettes, cheap beer, aftershave, and Listerine. I see him looking out at me from Ian's eyes, and I am reminded of him when I see Ian walk. Ian swears there is a "ghost" that visits him sometimes at night, and rather than shrugging it off as the overactive imagination of a typical 6 yr. old, I choose to believe he feels the angel or spirit of the grandfather he never knew drawing near to him. We have always said that "Grandpa Bill" went to Heaven and pulled some strings for us, so that we could have Ian, because he was a struggle to conceive.
The holiday season has always been a tough one for me - when I was younger it meant time out of school, which I dreaded. I wanted the relative safety and dubious peace of school over the strain of being home. I have always escaped by spending time staring into the lights of the tree or out the window, dreaming of other places, of better lives. Even now, I tend to disappear into my own world. This year, I've been thinking of the words to Ryan's song "Not Far Apart", and they mean more than years past. It has been 7 years since Dad passed. As time goes on, I really have started to feel we are not far apart.

Early Morning Ramblings and Bits of Random Nothing

As you can tell from the title, this post has one purpose - to sweep away the cobwebs and fluff from my brain patterns. Have you ever had so many things on your mind at once that you can't focus on one? This is me. 7am and on 4 hours of sleep. So if you are looking for a deeper meaning in this one, well, you might as well stop reading now. Go look for Thoreau.

Mmmm, hot hazelnut coffee with cinnamon. I don't know what it is about that flavor, but I just love it. Could be that it reminds me of a happier time, when Ian was first in pre-school at church and I could stop twice a week on my way to work to pick up a cup and a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin top. Not that those times really were happier than any others, but my little boy was doing well, and my new baby was healthy and precious. Faith was stronger. Of course, I still can't brew exactly the right amount for one big cup. I don't know why, but I just can't measure it right. Guess this is another reason I need an espresso maker instead, huh?

I am so glad my semester of school is almost over. I'm not sure why, but this semester has been the hardest I've ever had. I'm not coming out on top like I'd hoped, but I am able to salvage most of my classes, and I've learned some tough lessons this go around, so I guess that counts for something. I am really looking forward to next semester, even though only 1 of my classes will count toward my degree and the other is a random extra class. I need the chance to breathe, and that extra class promises to be interesting. I hope.

Putting Ian on the bus this morning, I started thinking about "school days." It makes my heart smile and ache at the same time, watching his skinny little self scamper off to that big, yellow bus. I think, "God, how did he get so big already?", and "Look how little he is", and something along the lines of "ABC's and 123's - ah, those were the days." I loved school, from the time I was a tot. I loved being with friends, spelling tests, reading, even math. When I was older, I lived for band. And of course, any time I was at school, I was safe - away from the nightmare at home just waiting to turn on me. I was never one of those kids who would jump at the chance to stay home. Even if I had the flu, my Mom would fight to make me stay home. I remember many a day practically sleeping my way through the day in a feverish haze, because I didn't want to be home. I know that even today, walking into a school makes me feel happy and safe. It's one of the ways I know I want to be a teacher. Do kids get on my nerves? Absolutely. On a regular basis. But they also make me smile, and remind me of life's potential. Except teenagers - they just annoy me period. =D

I'm feeling the creative urge like crazy again these days, but it's unfocused. I want to make scrapbook pages. I want to cross stitch. I want another baby. I want to bake, to cook, to decorate.  Most especially, I want to write. A letter, a story, random musings on a blog - anything to help get my thoughts in order, and get some of this creative urge out while it lasts. My brain chases itself in circles so much, I'm amazed it doesn't fall down dizzy. 

Life is tough for everyone these days. Lack of income, high stress, climate changes, natural disasters - it seems like the world is spinning out of control sometimes. I like the "let's get back to basics" movement that is advertised all over TV - um, hello? Getting back to basics doesn't mean going out and spending more money on items to help you get back to basics. It means getting control of what is really, truly important. Food. Utilities. Shelter. Clothing. Laughter. Love. Time. It's a hard lesson, and honestly I'm fighting against it as much as anyone else. Having been unemployed for 2 years almost, it's getting to the point where things will really have to be scaled back. It's hard to make a child understand that he can't have the level of things he had before. It's hard for me to deny myself anything, and I'm an adult, but I am hopeful that not only will my family weather the storm, somehow we will come out on the other side stronger, and more grounded. I'm searching for a way to show my family, and myself, how to find greater joy with fewer resources. Of course, throw in a broken car, lack of a clothes dryer, and weeks where you have to choose between gas for work and food to ear, and it gets tough. 

Oh, and this cast. I've never had a cast before. At first I thought it would be cool, kind of an adventure. Now, I want to flex my ankle and scratch like MAD. And it's been less than 24 hours. This should be interesting.

Well, that's my random morning ramblings for today. Check back soon, same crazy lady in the same crazy place, and see what else spews forth, won't you? 

The highs, the lows, and the in-betweens

I've spent some time considering life these last days. Life is crazy for the best of us, and I realize everyone has ups and downs. Every life has highs and lows. Your average person goes along in the middle, or the "in between", with occasional up and down swings. Everyone gets the blues, or happy and excited about something. For those like me, those with bipolar disorder, life is more than occasional mood changes; it is a roller coaster ride of dizzying highs and bleak lows. Mania and depression, while considered opposites, are really two sides of the same coin. Like best friends holding hands, they tug each other back and forth.

All my life I've faced these crazy mood swings, but it wasn't until I was officially diagnosed that I was able to trace them back through the years. I finally understood that what I thought was normal was really a bit out in left field. Now, being able to identify the different stages helps me to understand myself and those around me better. 

What no one seems to "get" is how dangerous these upswings and downturns can be. In the midst of mania, creativity sparks. Words flow like wine. My mind races, I struggle to focus, and I'm overflowing with effervescent energy. I don't sleep, and I don't miss it. Stories, images, thoughts, dreams - they chase each other in circles in my mind until I absolutely have to get them out, usually on paper. One thing emerges as most important, and everything else has to fall in line, or suffer and fall by the wayside, because I've only got energy and attention for it. It's like being high - nothing can touch you. Nothing can keep up. It's delicious.

Sounds great, right? Being so high on emotion and creative energy that nothing can touch you? Boundless energy? Lots of laughter? Excitement, fun? Sure. But the other side of it? Dark, dangerous despair. In the blink of an eye, you can go from high and happy to desperately sad, and vice versa. I've had days where my insides felt as though they were cracking. You think, if you can just cry hard enough, it will stop hurting - but it gets worse and worse, until you feel yourself splintering. Your very soul aches, to say nothing about your body. You can barely function, can't wake up, don't have interest in anything. Imagine being lost in a perfect, wet, smothering blackness. It's hard to even breathe. 

The most dangerous thing about both of these phases? They are addictive. No one tells you - when you are struggling to get better, on a more even keel - that you will miss it. Like a drug, you crave these phases. For one thing, they are old friends, aren't they? You know them. They are a part of your personality, your life.They shape your opinions, both how you view and how you handle, the world.  For another, the in-between of most "normal" people is really rather boring after awhile. Bouncy, excitable, happy manic highs are like too much champagne. Depressive phases are what I always imagined opiates to be. Drugging, slow, heavy. You want to move, want to act - but you just can't. 

When I'm in between, I am a totally different person. I look at the entire world in a different way. I remember thinking, the first time, "So this is normal? Really?" In between, I am a stranger to myself. It's not bad - it's just different.

I know this doesn't really fit in with the theme of "searching for bliss" - but then again, don't you have to understand something to accept it?

Some Thoughts on Happy Places

   You know that "happy place" in your mind people tell you to visit when you are stressed? Well, I have two. Which I choose depends on the day, the situation, and my mood. Number one involves a comfy cardigan, a quiet front porch, a cup of tea, and the rain. I can so easily picture myself there, perched in a chair or swing with legs tucked underneath me, cup of tea in hand. Watching the rain drops dancing with the flowers. Seeing the patterns in the puddles on the sidewalk. Listening to drumming water on the roof and soaking in the peace.

    Instead of the dreary gray most associate with a rainy day, my happy place is drenched with color. yes, the air is dark and heavy, but emerald grass shimmers and brilliant jewel toned flowers wave. Taupe sidewalks show patterns as the water soaks in. The air is soft gray through the steady rainfall. As my eyes wander, I take in the riot of color. Over there is rich brown - the trunks of trees along the sidewalk. To the right is the deep evergreen of bushes. To the left are radiant flowers - ruby, amethyst, opal. Sunshine yellow, deepest pink. Everything is framed by stark white porch rails.

   My second "happy place" is full of heat and light. There is an abundance of white - cool sheets under my body, filmy curtains wafting in a gentle breeze, soft linen on my body. Straight above is a tan and bronze fan, its whirring blending with distant birdcalls and the waving of palm fronds.Through the open, white shutters and french doors is the white and pale gold sand, and deep blue water of the beach. The air is light, golden with hints of turquoise, reflecting the colors outside. (I know it doesn't make sense, but it's my place, right?) I can lay here in total peace and repose, no one asking anything, and soak in the moving air and gentle sounds. Complete and utter paradise.

   Everyone needs a refuge, even in their own minds. Lucky for me, I have two. Two perfect worlds of calm and control. Worlds where everything is perfect, including me.

   Of course, I have two more happy places. Ones I visit every day. How much luckier can a woman get? =)

Order from Chaos - De-cluttering and Battling the Laundry Beast

Some days I think I can do this. Other days I wonder Can I do this? Still others it's I can't do this!
 I was the girl who never left home without her makeup, who was 15 minutes early for everything, and who always had a glib answer to every question. Now? Well, now I am perpetually late by 30 minutes, and I can never find my keys or my makeup bag (where IS that darn thing anyway?) If you ask me a question while I am doing anything other than sitting still, you might receive a blank stare for a response. Think Huh? and you've got it. You might ask "Why? What happened?" Well, I'll tell you.

Take a house. Add 2 dogs, 2 active boys, 2 cats, and an organizationally challenged husband. Turn it upside down, shake, and add 5 college classes and an ambitious SuperMom. Flip it right side up again. What do you have? Chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

Let me say now that I am the QUEEN of list making. I have chore charts, checklists, budget sheets, organizers. I have read and clipped articles about keeping things tidy, ideas for de-cluttering, cute plans for having the perfectly handled home. I bought a book called The House That Cleans Itself. I'm still waiting for it to start. I SO miss being organized.

Sometimes it makes me C-R-A-Z-Y. Especially when I read about bleached floors, handy little baskets, and pretty kids all in a row. Life is not how I pictured it. Not always how I want it either. But then I look around. Yes, there is clutter - but it is MY clutter. The drawings plastered on the refrigerator, the shoes I keep tripping over because my 6 yr old refuses to stop kicking them off willy-nilly. Papers piled on the table beside the computers. Toys all over the playroom. And laundry. Oh my God the laundry. Thank you Lord for my mother, who apparently enjoys laundry - or there would never be clean clothes. Seriously, there wouldn't. At the rate we go through them, I can't get them washed and hung up before they are in baskets, on the floor, in the hamper, or wherever the boys randomly drop them.




Before



After





The Books are Taking Over



All of these things are signs my loved ones are near me. Yes, I am still fighting the battle. In between homework, projects, and hastily pulled together dinners, I grab whatever is nearest and move it. Usually it is a shuffle from clutter on the table or counter to some out of sight drawer, but at least it's moving. Slowly. I have this fabulous plan - house is tidy, dinner on the table at 6 every night. Life moving like clockwork. Being the Mom who bakes treats for you class, who sews your costumes, and has fun up her sleeve all the time. You hear experts say you can't be SuperMom. I say why not? I'm not there yet, but by golly I will give it my best. I may be holding on to my sense of humor with both hands, but as long as teeth are brushed, clothes are clean, there is some form of reasonable food, and my kids are laughing, I am content.

Or at least I'm trying to be.



Books and Boys

I have always loved this saying. Most of the books in this picture can be found in one of my many bookcases. What are books to a person? To an imaginative 4 year old, they are doorways to magic lands. To a lonely 8 year old in a foreign land, they are friends and companions, something to pass the time. To an awkward and frightened teenager, they are comfort and escape from the darkness. To an adult, they are old friends. Full of life lessons, ideas, magic, history - books are constants in a world that passes in the blink of an eye.
One of my favorite quotes is from the movie You've Got Mail, even if it is delivered by a tweed-coat wearing computer phobic author obsessed with the sound of an electric typewriter. He calls it the basic truth: You are what you read. Having loved books all my life, I couldn't wait to share the magic in their pages with my children.

Enter Ian. As a baby, he would toddle back and forth between the sofa and the bookcase, carrying board book after board book. "Read, Mommy!" he would say, over and over. Now, my pragmatic, freckle faced boy avoids storytime. Math and science whiz that he is, he shrugs me off when I say "Let's read a book!" This is the child who, when asked to draw a picture, comes back with a bar graph and Venn diagram. There are times I look at him and think, "Who are you? What happened to my little boy who always wanted one more story? Where does this logical little mind come from?" As a confirmed bibliophile, I am out of my depth sometimes. I am anything but logical. I am impulsive, emotional, and impatient. Then he gets frustrated when something isn't perfect, or anxious over something we adults would find trivial, and I realize, so is he. Our minds may work in different ways, but he is still me. We share so much more than blood. We may not love the same things, or in the same way, but we love each other, and we are alike in more ways than we are different.



Then came Josh. The funny one. The artistic one. And once again, the stubborn one. If there's one thing my kids have gotten from me, that would be it. He was even less interested in stories and books at first, unless he had a crayon in one hand. Now he's a bit more interested. He's more interested in pestering his older brother.

It's taken me time to realize that you can't make your children what you want, or what you expect. What you can do is love them unconditionally. You can guide them, show them better choices, give them options, instill values, and expand their horizons. Share what they like and hopefully, open their eyes to the things you love. Like books.