Growth hurts

(Another from the "drafts" folder that never got published.  As it's relevant to things I'm pondering for the new year, I'm publishing it too).

As I've said, many times before, I know there are good things coming.  Changes are happening in my life and they're going to be AWESOME.  I can feel it.

I'm continually frustrated when they don't seem to materialize, however.  I want a postcard from the Divine, thankyouverymuch, with clear instructions or a hint as to what I'm supposed to be doing.

Recently, (on the very long and boring drive across southern Idaho, in fact), I had a revelation.

See, my MIL is dying.  I'm not sure she realizes it.  I don't know that FIL has realized it or accepted it, and I'm quite certain that several of the other siblings will be rather shocked by this.  But, thankfully, my DH is accepting it.  His mother fell and broke her hip a couple of weeks ago.  During her surgery, the surgeon noticed that her bone was particularly crumbly and sent it off for a biopsy.  She has bone cancer, in addition to the hip fracture.

The thing is, MIL is not one to work to overcome obstacles.  She's a perpetual victim, powerless to make her life any different.  The recovery from a broken hip is very painful and difficult.  It requires determination that I just don't think she has.  She also suffers from high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, and dementia.  Her short term memory is pretty well shot.  With all of this, I didn't think she'd recover from the broken hip.  Now, with the cancer diagnosis, well, I think she'll be gone before Christmas.

This brings up all sorts of practical issues for me, issues that I'll process and write about at a later date.  Today is about my revelation.

Dh said something about how his mother had "lived a good life."  It was all I could do not to snort my disagreement.  Her life does not look "good" to me.  In fact, it looks pretty freaking miserable.  If that's the definition of a "good" life, then it's not a life I want to live.

And that's the revelation.  I've gotten rather spoiled and complacent.  (And whiny, if I'm honest).  I spend a lot of time doing very little and complaining about not having a fulfilling life.

Hello?!

Really, MIL has had an easy life.  Comfortable.  Safe.  Predictable.

Uninspired, boring, unenlightened as well, in my opinion (hey, it's my blog.  I get to be opinionated).

But, here's the thing.

I have a pretty easy, comfortable, safe, and (relatively) predictable life.  And I'm allowing myself to become complacent.  If I don't change something, I'll wind up sitting in my living room watching the world go by just like MIL.

That's the *last* place I want to end up.   So, it's time to make some adventures for myself, embrace the interesting, enlightening, adventurous and fun life I want to lead.  The life I want to, someday, be remembered for. 

She's back and she's whining

You've been warned.

Tuesday was my Dad's birthday. It was also a completely insane day in my world. I left the house at 8 and didn't get home until about 12 hours later. Tristan left at 6:30 and didn't get home until almost 10; same for Bruce. Even Alana had an after school activity, so she was gone for nearly 12 hours too.

So, at about 6:30 pm (5:30 their time), mom called to point out that I hadn't called dad yet for his birthday. Because, of course, if I hadn't done it by dinner time, then I wasn't going to. Made me really mad. Dinner time was the first time we'd all been together all freaking day and I was catching up a bit with my family, you know, the one I created.

It gets better. Tuesdays are bowling night for my dad. He goes out to dinner and then bowls in a league. It's been this way for a couple of decades, at least. So, yesterday being Tuesday, Dad went bowling.

I don't know if mom got my hints and irritation when I told her that we'd been running all day (I don't think mom can get her head around the idea of me working, especially now that she's not). And I did call my dad, on his cell phone, catching him as he was getting his bowling shoes on. He was pleased to hear from us, but the thing is, HE DOESN'T CARE. He understands how things can be and he's not all hung up on celebrating on the very day of his birthday. He'd much rather we call and chat when we have time to really talk.

Now mom is another story. She would've been very hurt if we hadn't called her by dinner. And we still wouldn't have called her before dinner because it just wasn't possible. So mom projects her feelings onto my dad and then calls and pesters me in an effort to help heal the hurt that isn't there in the first place! DRIVES ME CRAZY!!!

This isn't the first time mom has done this sort of thing, though she usually saves the worst of it for my sister who lives closer. A few years ago, mom got all bent out of shape because Melany was unwilling or unable to visit on a school night for dad's birthday (Melany lives about 40 miles from my parents). Again, Dad didn't care in the least. He understood that his birthday generally is just another weekday and the world doesn't rearrange itself to allow for that. Mom, yeah....notsomuch.

And, of course, feeling like a chastised child who then does what mommy told her to do only takes away from the genuine affection for my father. It cheapens a gesture I was going to make anyway and that makes me sad. There's a rebellious part of me that would've *loved* to ignore the "summons" from my mother, but that would hurt my dad which isn't fair to him. It's not his fault that his wife gets a little nutty about this stuff.

*Sigh* And now I don't know what to do. Do I mention anything to my mom? Do I tell her that I don't like being treated like a 40 year old child who needs to be told what to do, when to do it, and how? Or do I let it go until next year, when she will, undoubtedly, do it again?

Timely musings

I walked Alana to school today and we were talking about all sorts of things, including why Mommy shouldn't text and walk, much less text and drive.....we chatted about reading books and getting lost in them. We chatted about our weekend. And then Alana started doing a little math. She realized that, in 3 years, Tristan will be out of school, Shannon will be in High School, and she would be starting Junior High.

I knew that, and yet, when I stop to think about it, it hits me pretty hard. I remember when old ladies and older mothers used to tell me to cherish this time because it goes so fast. And I remember, in those days of showering at 3 in the afternoon constantly cleaning up the three 'p's, and always having a small person clinging to me or needing me or whining at me or crying.....I remember thinking that it couldn't go fast enough!

And now I'm wanting to slow time down, just a bit, so I can savor these precious moments that really do go too fast. I don't want to hold my children back from their lives....I just want time to stop ticking by quite so fast. Maybe it's the hint of fall in the air after what seemed like and endless and beautiful summer. Maybe it's the milestones of my oldest as he becomes more and more independent. I don't know, but I find myself wishing that each second lasted a half a second longer.

Ten years ago, I was trying to come to terms with being pregnant for a third time, totally unplanned. I wasn't sure I wanted another child. I had a boy and a girl, the house and the dog. The kids were (mostly) sleeping through the night and we were nearly done with diapers and here I was, pregnant. And really, at that stage, the "baby" didn't seem very real just yet. While I recognized that I had choices, I also knew somehow that this baby was meant to be, so we soldiered on, somewhat reluctantly I'll admit, and made room in our lives for this new precious light.

Now I look forward another ten years and I'll be an empty-nester; possibly even a grandmother (I'm in no hurry, but Tristan will be 25 at that point). It just doesn't seem possible that those seemingly endless nights of fussy babies, wet diapers and barfy sheets have given way to this life.

My kids are amazing people. Sometimes I think it's because of me, and other times I'm sure it's in spite of me. They all have a good work ethic, though a bit whiny at times. They look out for each other (when they're not trying to kill one another). They're responsible and respectful. They're intelligent and active and soak up information like little sponges. I'm continually amazed at the connections their minds make.

Tristan has a job; a real job with a paycheck and FICA and everything. He's one of 3 sophomores to make it into the High School Jazz Band. He does his own laundry and he can cook some basic stuff. I have no doubt he could tackle more complicated recipes if he wanted to. He shoots hoops in the back yard almost everyday and he's developing a social life too.

Shannon is a teenager wanting to hold on to her childhood. She cares about what she wears, but most days she forgets earrings and I still have to remind her to put on deodorant. She takes looooong hot showers, prompting her father to bang on the door, shouting something about hot water and not having a sauna on purpose (makes me glad this house has a 50 gallon hot water heater), and yet she still plays with and treasures her American Girl doll.

Alana is mischievous and brilliant, which has the potential to be a deadly combination. She is, however, a terrible liar, so far, and I'm hoping that doesn't change anytime soon. She's had a mind of her own since before she was born, and I love and hate that about her. She's loving and sweet, knows everything there is to know about Pokemon, and is very loud about her dislike of all things work-like. In spite of her protests, though, she does get her chores done.

And just when my heart swells with pride, I hear the tell-tale signs of trouble and "I didn't MEAN to poke you in the eye."

Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking...into the future

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic and melancholy today, plus a whole bunch of other stuff because I'm a girl and I've usually got about a dozen emotions going on.

School started yesterday. My kids are in 4th, 8th, and 10th grades. I have an official High Schooler who proudly possesses a Learner's Permit, in spite of the fact that he can't get his license for nearly a year. Funny the juxtaposition as he races towards growing up and I keep trying to hold back the sands of time and savor, just for a moment, this precise instant.

I suppose there's nothing like a child to remind you just how quickly time passes. People used to say that to me all the time and I thought they were full of crap, but it's true. I can't hardly believe how amazing they are and how grown up they are. There are days when that overwhelms me and I have to take a moment and remember to breathe.

Those moments are usually shattered by shouts of "Mo-om!" Which is then followed by more hollering about who did what to whom and how it's not fair!

I find myself sitting here, basically wasting time on various games, advice columns, and blogs, and wondering just what kind of life I want for myself. All of a sudden, I have uncounted hours stretching before me, just waiting for me to fill them. I realize that it's only the second day of school, and I'm trying hard not to listen to that voice inside my head telling me that I *should* be organized and my house *should* be spotless. Really? Says who?! LOL!

The time will come, and come soon. I don't do idleness very well. Not to mention that my back won't stand for too much lolly-gagging in this chair. And, of course, activities are starting again, with a vengance, so I'm already juggling a few things--music lessons, work, meetings, back to school night, and more. It'll all come together, or it won't. And either way, I'm going to enjoy it. In a few years, one of my chicks will have flown the nest and I want to savor this time.

40 Bags Update

I've been editting that other post, crossing things off and such, but it gets bogged down and I think my other posts are getting buried because each time I edit it, I move it to the top of the page, making it look like I haven't written anything else.

So, a quick update.

The kids have really worked hard on their rooms. They're not finished yet, but they've made AMAZING progress and I'm so proud because they've done much of the work.

I've cleaned out the kids' bathroom, with their help.

I cleaned out the bookshelves in the basement, getting rid of DVDs, Wii games, and books. I've finally given up (mostly) the delusion of an "educational" summer. Or at least the kind of education that includes worksheets and planned science experiments. I'm sure the kids will, once again, learn that water+dirt=mud and lots of fun. We'll go letterboxing and to the library, visit a museum or two, the zoo and the aquarium (yes, there is an aquarium in the desert of Salt Lake City). Hopefully, they'll learn to cook a meal or two.

Bruce read something somewhere that said that if you give your kids 12 books to read over the summer (and they do it) then that's really all the need to avoid the summer slump/knowledge loss. My kids are readers. They read everything they can get their hands on. And, as we've sorted through things, they've rediscovered their own libraries. So, in addition to the "stuff" leaving the house, I've gotten rid of a bit of guilt too.

However, there's some guilt still. A bunch of the books Alana wants to get rid of are cute books that my mom gave her. They're truly wonderful books. But they're for pre-schoolers and Alana's long since outgrown them. In a purge a while back, I did keep a pile of books, mostly Dr. Seuss books, for posterity. But really, how much can I keep? How much should I keep? It's not like books are going to fade out of our existance. But actual, physical books with pages to turn rather than screens to slide seem to be on the endangered list (I really hope not...there's nothing like the experience of reading a book...and besides, if you drop your Kindle in the tub.....). So, I'm passing on some of these books. They're going to the preschool program at my church, where I'm sure they will be well-loved. But I still feel just a tad guilty, and I wonder if there will be fall out from my mom when/if she finds out.

And then there are the sappy "To my Daughter with Love" books, also from my mom. I'm not really a sappy person. These books don't really speak to me, encourage me, or make me feel loved. They're too rosy, too lacy, too frilly for my taste. And yet. They're from my mom, and they speak of her love for me, in all it's imperfections. But they also irritate me. Doesn't she know who I am? Doesn't she realize that I'm not a lacy, rosy, frilly person?! Truthfully, these books don't bring me joy. In fact, I grind my teeth everytime I see them and so I don't really want to keep them. But they were given in love, so........

AAAHHHHHH!!!