Friday, What a Week!

Yes, it’s been quite a week. Two major things going on at once is rough. The Babe had his second followup yesterday, and today, the whole day is ours. I don’t want to leave home. I made Mom six grilled cheese sandwiches and she said to stay home. I need it. I’m staying home Monday, too. Then two days of stuff again. We’ll get through. Mom dubbed the Babe the “Fourth Man” of her four “man” team, of the Babe, Steve, Tim and me. We’ll get her through the changing times ahead.

All the learning in the world is no good if you cannot apply it. I’m amazed at how much writing has changed since the time I began my blog. If you are telling a story about something in your childhood, you are telling your recollection of how an event was explained to you or your recollection thereof. It may not be historically correct, it’s the story we are writing about. A lot of what we write is exactly that. It’s not meant to be a thesis, news story, or other report of fact. Recollections are different.

I started reading an old book today. It wasn’t required in high school, but I read it anyway, or so I thought. Let me tell you, I’m only twenty-one pages into the book, and it’s not anything I recall reading at all. Lots of life has been lived since then, and it’s no wonder the story didn’t remain familiary. It’s frightening, though. The thought-police are kind of all over the place now, and the world way different than when it was penned in 1945. Very thought-provoking. More on it later.

Due to the craziness in our life I’m calling it quits for today. Have a great rest of the day, and know we’ll see each other tomorrow. Take care, be safe out there.

Weekend, here we come!

5 Minutes

We went to Gavin’s last basketball game this afternoon. Tracy mentioned how long 5 minutes can be during a sport like basketball. It set me to thinking.

The wait for a train to pass is five minutes; five minutes of your life flies by. During childbirth, five minutes seems forever if you’re pushing that bowling ball from your body; five minutes flies by while you’re holding that sleeping gift from God. And five minutes is an eternity while you’re on hold, waiting for customer service. Five minutes goes too quickly when you’re visiting your grandchildren and you need to get on a plane to leave.

Hold on to those five minutes that fleet away; they are some of the best memories. Usually, those forever five-minute intervals lead to something much better and are worth it.

I cannot imagine what the last five minutes of someone’s life are like. Do you see your whole life pass before you? Do you have any time for regrets? And are your deceased relatives there to escort you to the pearly gates? Will you have all your questions answered?

What do you think those last five minutes are like?

The kids didn’t win their game; but they had a great time at their party to celebrate the season. Kids are resilient. It’s good to watch them grow in their sports skills and also in managing their feelings of loss and defeat. The coaches are good at facilitating that. And, I cannot wait for baseball season. It will begin in about another month.

The quilt is coming along nicely. Just a few more parts to quilt, then the binding, packing it, and off to Colorado. I’d love to deliver the quilts to the kids. Been too long since we’ve seen them.

Hope you had a good weekend. Ours was busy. I’ve really enjoyed reading “Broken Angels.” I have about 35% read, and find it sad, fascinating, and pray it never happens again; all at once. I’ve read good and bad reviews of it. More later. We will see each other again tomorrow. Take care out there.

Last Saturday in August. Trust Me.

Fall cannot be far away if our Nebraska Cornhuskers started their football season today. Of course, they lost by three points. The week of hype we’ve just had promised they were ready, and all the other things players and coaches say. We trounced this team last year. They must have been more ready than we were. Sad for the players, they traveled all the way to Dublin, Ireland to play. I’m sure it will be a very long trip home. Better luck next time, guys.

A daily meditation book I have ponders fake love today, asking if it’s them or if it’s me? I find that very interesting and thought provoking. My book answers the more valuable something is, the more fakes and imitations there are. Real, authentic love is a treasure, and there are many imitations out there.

A child has a different view of love than an adult, an elderly person who is widowed has yet another definition. Finding authentic love when we’ve not seen it before is hard. For folks with addictions, they believe love is shown by their person lying for them; to the boss when they’re “sick”, to the banker when the mortgage has been gambled away, and especially to family members when there is nothing to eat. Yes, these are extremes, but simple white lies can lead to these whoppers.

Hard to explain to these folks, love is not making excuses, it’s making them accountable. They don’t like it, so they tell you you’re in the wrong. Disagreements ensue, getting louder and louder. Hopefully, they don’t turn physical. Don’t stay if they do. Always have a plan of where to go and what to do.

Substitutes are easier, but hollow. They’re not the real deal for sure. Expensive gifts in lieu of being able to trust them is not real. Flowers after they storm out and disappear for days aren’t worth it. They twist the situation to make it your fault, and lash out. Hold your ground; they’re wrong, you’re not.

Authentic love is trusting. Trust was a hard thing for me. Funny, I’ve never doubted the Babe once since we met. He showed me real love by being there, every day. Not love that is infatuation, but real, deep love, and he worked to earn my trust. When I finally realized how damaged I was, I knew I had work to do. No drama. We trust. We both are responsible for our own stuff. It works great. Grateful to know that this kind of love really exists. It’s been there all along.

The answer to the question is it them or me, is it’s both of us. If they have addiction issues of any kind, it’s them; if we have trust issues, it’s us as well. Trust is a gift, to be given as well as received. The receiver treats is as the treasure it is, the giver knows at what cost it comes.

Have a beautiful evening, I’m going to read, as it’s rainy outside. Perfect weather for finishing a book and paying bills online. Pups are napping as I just did, too. Saturdays are great, aren’t they? See you tomorrow.

“Twas a Dark and Stormy . . . ” Day!

We are in the middle of a storm front for the whole day. Don’t get me wrong, I love sunshine the best. But why be a Miss Grumpy Pants if it’s overcast? I’m glad for the lower water bills during this time of year, and God’s doing his best to water the grass and gardens that are drying and dying back for the fall season. With the thunder and lightening, Lexie has taken up residency in our oversized master bedroom closet, and Goldie? She’s between my feet and the base of my office chair. As long as Mom’s around, that noise doesn’t bother her. I woke to find her next to me during the night. Lexie was there when I fell asleep, and when Lexie retreated to the closet, Goldie plopped and cuddled.

Goldie, resting on my foot while I work. She doesn’t like thunder.

The Babe trekked up to the Post for some bookwork. I’m listening to Dayna Jones, a country singer/kindergarten teacher from Emery, South Dakota. I learned about her from our mutual friend, Jimmy Weber. I hope to meet her one day Both Dayna and Jimmy have performed with Martina McBride, whom I love! I heard her before she became a star; she toured with pianist Jim Brickmann in the 90s. She sang the song “Valentine.” Isn’t it beautiful? I love music even more on dark, dreary days. Dayna Jones has a couple CD’s out, which I really enjoy, also. This is a favorite. Gosh, Dayna, hope to meet you someday! You need to come to Omaha!

My handy, dandy Daily Meditation Book for ACOA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) has another perfect meditation for today, for the work I’m about to do during November. (NaNoWriMo – a National Novel Writing Month). It’s actually taken from the Bible, Ecclasiates to be exact.

“The race is not to the swift, not the battle to the strong.

Most battles are not won by overwhelming firepower. Any battle with addictions, weight control, low self esteem, self-loathing, take constant work. By working steadily, you will win the race. It’s why the turtle beat the rabbit, remember? Flash-bangs are dramatic, but just leave a smoldering hole in the ground. Some damage, but in the one spot. Battles of the mind are no different. Another phrase that applies here?

“Talk Doesn’t Cook Rice.” Chinese Proverb

As I look back on my life, I put my stock in too many people who talked without cooking anything! Except for the Babe. He is a totally honest man. He knows my insecurities, and where they come from, and he loves me anyhow. He never uses my weaknesses against me. That is love. He not only cooks rice, but he cleans the kitchen up afterwards. Thanks to his mama Liz for raising men who pitch in and do the work around the house. They cared for their younger sisters while she worked. I miss her a lot. She always made you feel welcome, and that you are important. She did that with kids, adults, everyone. I’m lucky to have had two great women for Mothers-in-Law. Josephine, my first MIL, kept in touch with me after the divorce. Bless her. When I met the Babe and later told her I was getting re-married, she was happy. “Is he your soul-mate?” How cool of her. She kept up to date on things happening in the world. A sweet woman who had a hard life.

The thing about these two very strong women is they worked very hard – one as a waitress, one as a food prepper. Both hard work, and standing on their feet all day, Josephine had to work on Christmas Eve back in the day, and often until the stores closed at 5 p.m. She was quite the bargain shopper, often finding a great buy for one of her numerous grandchildren, rushing home and wrapping it before everyone arrived. She loved seeing the kids on Christmas. It’s because of this mother of 7 that I started loving Christmas Eve again.

You see, in 1964, my grandfather died of a massive heart attack on Christmas Eve. We weren’t there, Mom claimed one of my brothers was sick. It took years and years to deal with that. It still is on my mind on that day. Yes, there will be a children’s book/book for families on that difficult topic. Learning how to handle such deep grief is important; it’s a story I need to share. Look for it next calendar year. My friend Jimmy Weber is collaborating with me, he wrote a song about losing his grandpa the same way, on Christmas Eve. Did I mention we were both 12 years old? I healed a lot when I heard his song/story. It was my story. That’s how our friendship started. What a treasure!

All these stories are connected, though distinctly different. The theme is the same, and so many different characters in each scene of my life provides the background for a blessed life. My thanks to you all for being here. The work is a little easier with support and friendship.

For today? More plotting the writing of 50K words during those 30 days of November. The Babe is happy I won’t be bugging him as much. He can watch all the football his mind can handle, flipping channels randomly as he snacks intermittently. Heaven! And I get to write. Gearing it up, and grateful for the opportunity. Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

P.S. Also going back to Keto, maybe a relaxed version. Now that I’ve lost 45 pounds, I’m encouraged to keep going. After all, there are book signings in my future! Gotta be healthy and fit to do that. And looking forward to it. Visions of the Future, very motivating. Have a beautiful day, even if it’s rainy!

“Saturday, In the Park”

For some reason, this old Chicago song popped into my head this morning. Do people go to parks much anymore? When I was a kid, there were several parks we could walk to, and the city had kid-sponsored activities every afternoon. The little green shack opened just after lunchtime, I believe, and stayed open until probably 4 or 5 p.m. For a nickel or dime, we could do a little craft thing, or they had tether ball, box hockey, and maybe horseshoes. Teenagers worked the shack daily and our harried mothers got a little bit of a break from us during those hot, summer days.

When I had kids, the green shacks disappeared from the city parks, you were basically on your own. We just walked across a very busy street, and we had access to basketball, tennis courts, and of course, swing sets and adventures on some low to the ground climbing devices. It was the old days, and the devices were made of wood, which didn’t wear well in the extreme weather we have; blistering heat or frigid cold. They developed splinters, and were deemed unsafe. We’d take lunch over to the park and have a picnic sometimes. Sometimes we had a picnic in our own yard. Do people still do that? Aside from fire pits and barbeques? I loved being home with the kids.

Once we finally had grandkids, we would babysit for Addison quite a bit. Her Grandma Sandy was alive then, and we’d share babysitting when the kids went out of town, etc. Sandy worked close to our home, and she’d drop Addison off in the morning, and pick her up after work. We worked well together. Usually ex-wives and current-wives don’t get along. Sandy and I had more in common than the Babe. Oh, and having one wife in between Sandy and me probably made a lot of difference. I never met that wife, although I bowled with her mother forty years ago. Small world.

At any rate, we’d take Addison to the park a lot. It really was fun taking her. There was a small park two blocks from our house, and we’d take her there nearly every time we had her over. As she got older and didn’t like the park as well, we’d go to a soft serve ice cream place nearby and get ice cream. She remembers that a lot. Even now, at the age of 14, if we mention “Ice Cream” she smiles and says, “Let’s GO!” I’m glad she has those memories. Now, our park experiences are going to ball fields and watching Gavin play baseball. I love that, expecially at this age.

My daughter Becky sends pics of Kayla and Cody playing in the park. She puts cute little hats and sunscreen on them. Adorable. I hope we get to see them later this summer. She and Brian have very busy work schedules, and with COVID variants occurring, we can only pray we aren’t locked down again. Get your shots! I have, the Babe did, and we’re fine. Just please don’t be the part of the population causing the problem. Sometimes we have to think of the “greater good” before our personal beliefs. Period.

Mom put me in Junior Bowling in seventh or eighth grade. Our neighbor coached it, and we were close enough to walk. Jan Matya, my friend and I stuck with it until we were seniors in High School. The reason? It was fun, and we were the only two girls in the league. All boys. The odds were in our favor. She dated a guy for awhile, I had one ask me to the Military Ball for his ROTC. I didn’t like him, I was 15 and used the excuse my folks wouldn’t let me date until I was 16. Mom told me, “No one turns down a date to the Military Ball.” In retrospect, it probably would have been a good idea. I only went to one prom and no homecomings at my school. None to other schools. I felt so crummy no one did.

So glad times have changed where kids actually go solo, and hang out with their friends. How nice. No one would feel less than enough. I really feel for kids who feel that way. There is so much buried in them that makes them good, talented people. It’s so bad when you lack confidence in yourself and your abilities. Remember; You ROCK!

I think families with kids have their time occupied by organized events. Sports, Dance, and a whole host of other things. That’s great, I hope they enjoy their experiences as neighborhood kids used to when they’d do a pick-up game of baseball, kickball, and even dodge ball. My brothers didn’t participate, and there were no girls sports. I did play volleyball, but Sister Mary What’s Her Name? didn’t put me in, she said I was too nervous, I needed to relax.

After growing up, I wondered if it occurred to her to let me play and I’d be less nervous? That would make sense to me. I also learned as an adult I probably suffered from anxiety. Our mom had a temper and as a kid, I thought she was always mad (at me). It seemed her moods swung from nice to degrading whoever was around. I think this was inherited from her mother. Zero to Sixty in 30 seconds. She scared me. I spent a lot of time in my room. My sanctuary.

I have forgiven her. She didn’t know any better. Many of us followed suit until we learned how damaging that was. Sometimes I think to myself, “If I was Mom, I’d probably say, “Don’t you know blah, blah, blah.” For someone who lost her cool a lot, it’s funny we were forbidden to say words like, “Hate, Shut Up, he’s stupid, you’re a dummy, I could kill you! (believe it or not, people used to say stuff like that).” So glad that type of speech is not acceptable anymore.

For today; Speak Kindly, Sit in Nature, Relax, Remember You’re Enough. Pet a Dog. Go for a walk. Attend a benefit. Always be kind. See you tomorrow!

Mom’s Day; A Day for Nurturers

This greeting goes not only to Mother’s, but also to single moms, single dads, grandparents, and anyone who has an influence on children that is positive. It could even be a teacher. Many, many kids have no one to look to for nurturing and guidance. Yes, we have to be careful in this day and age, but I believe you all know what I mean.

All three of Mom’s sisters nurtured me in different ways. Mom was the oldest, and in an alcoholic family, she took the lead and took care of everyone. She still plays that role. Every sister of hers shared insights with me about growing up during the era they did. They gave me an extraordinary gift, I can forgive her for not knowing what I needed as a kid. The era was “tough love” before it was ever invented, and I have to say, it didn’t motivate me. It did her, though. That’s just how she is. I’m not that way. Many thanks to all my aunts for being so good to me. I miss you all.

I think that has caused a lot of disagreements between us. It’s not her fault. And it’s not mine. We are simply like water and oil. Just don’t mix well. Don’t get me wrong. I love her and will always help her. She has helped me out of some tough situations by just being there. Always being available during an emergency; my son drowning, my other son’s ruptured appendix, and my daughter cracking her head open against doorframe woodwork while her dad was at Church. We’ve talked about life in many an ER waiting room. Thanks, Mom, for always being there.

Our daughter Tracy and daughter in law Monica; You ROCK! Thank you for the love you give so freely to our family and everyone around you both. You are different personalities, and you both love fiercely. I’m so happy we have the family we do!

To the women, like my daughter, who live over 500 miles away from their mom’s, and they dig in and decide they can do this mom thing alone, with no help from their own mothers. I could help you, but I’m not one to put myself into a situation where I’m not invited. You have always been fiercely independent; after all, I learned that from YOU; of course you don’t want help. I get it.

To my sons Frank and Nick, who babysat for their friend’s babies, and haven’t flinched at changing dirty diapers. I’m proud of the men you’ve become. You would have been great, nurturing Dads. You’ve given Sam, Joe, and Malachi someone to look up to. I’m so proud of you. I love being your Mom. And Becky’s, too.

To the men, who like my son-in-law TJ, have made ponytails, pigtails, and braids with their giant hands on a little girl’s head, who have performed on stage at countless Dad’s Dances at recitals, (you have a great extension there, TJ!), and who have worked extra so the children can have everything they need. You are also nurturers. TJ, I love you like my own son!

To the grandparents raising kids, you have a hard job. You’ve done it before, and are pitching in, perhaps doing it all. You are so needed, and I’m sure you’re tired, too. May God keep you strong and on your mark. May God give you grace when you need it. Thank you for what you’re doing.

To the teachers who use their own money to buy warm hats, mittens, and scarves for kids in need. You are doing much more than teaching at school; you are making a difference in their souls. Thank you and know you positively affect lives.

I salute all of you nurturers out there. And all Mom’s. It’s a tough job, and it can break your heart. And when your broken heart heals, it comes back twice as large, and you give more love away. That’s what we were made for, all of us. Just keep nurturing and loving. The world will become the place it needs to become. Thank you for reading today. Be Kind. Be Safe out there. Be the Love You Needed. I’ll see you tomorrow.