The day you have to say good-bye to your dog

It's a much more difficult day than you ever thought it would be.

This is the same dog that has been trying to kill me by tripping me on the stairs.  This is the same dog that emits odor that can clear a room.  This dog has been constantly under foot.  But, even I loved this dog.

I remember the day my husband and son convinced me to get a dog.  I finally said, "sure, we can have a dog, but it has to be a Jack Russell Terrier."  I said that because the show, Frazier, was very popular and it had a cute dog on it.  I thought that dog would be difficult to find.  They found a dog and bought it and brought it home within four hours.

Then we had a dog.  (this was the first and only dog I have ever had in my whole life.)

Jack Russell's aren't the calmest of dogs.  This dog kept us prisoners in our own home for years.  The second our dog, Chet (the jet), would hear someone walking towards the door he would anticipate that door opening and streak out the door and run.  And run and run and run.  That dog could run.  One day my husband was chatting with a neighbor.  The neighbor, Warren, said that one day he saw a deer running through the back yard.  Right on the heels of the deer was Chet.  Warren asked my husband what he thought that Chet would do with that deer when he caught it?  Chet had no fear.  None.  He was a little dog with the soul of a lion.

Another trait of the Jack Russell is their ability to jump.  Chet could jump.  Until recently, there was never a time we could have a guest in our home that Chet wouldn't jump and jump and jump.  We just couldn't train it out of him.

Chet was pretty bright, for a dog.  He could do tricks to earn his dinner.  He could sit up and stay.  He could play dead after you said "bang".  And he could roll over.  He wasn't much of a fetcher.  He would chase the ball, get it, but he'd never bring it back.  That's just the kind of dog he was.

When I think back of all the things I loved about Chet, I smile.  I remember that pink spot on his nose from where he wore the black off from pushing the basketball around and around the yard.  I remember having to thaw meet in the microwave instead of on the counter.  I didn't have to turn the microwave on, I just had to have it behind a locked door because Chet would jump up on the counter and eat the thawing meat right out of the package.  I remember learning not to leave the leftover Thanksgiving turkey carcass on the counter because Chet would jump up and grab it for an after dinner snack.  I remember the look of pride in his eyes when he would drop off a dead bird on my doorstep (ducks included).  I remember how my husband would give him a voice and tell me all the things that Chet was thinking.  I remember how my son would smile and feel the love of a dog when finding friends at school was tougher than it should have been.

And now there is a tiny grave in the back yard.  I know I'll feel better about this in the days to come.  I know it was his time and we didn't steal one day of his life by making this decision.  He died with dignity.  But, I'll miss him.  (and there are a lot of people that will be surprised by that)

Jack (my son) and Chet

Bill (my husband), Jack, and Chet  (last pic of Chet)

552.  I can exhale
553.  We could hug each other and support each other over the loss of this pet
554.  I know my son and husband will find joy in life again
555.  Rotisserie chickens will always remind me of Chet
556.  Tomorrow will be a better day

Otakon, 20th anniversary!

Otakon (OH-tə-kon) is an annual three day anime convention held during July/August at the Baltimore Convention Center in Baltimore, Maryland's Inner Harbor district. The convention focuses on East Asian popular culture (primarily anime, manga, music, and cinema) and its fandom. (definition from Wikipedia)

My son is a fan.

My husband is a great guy.  My son had been planning to go to this convention for a year.  He was planning to go with a buddy.  Said buddy got married this past year.  Buddy's wife said, "no way are you going to that convention and blowing $400 like you did last year."  I had given my son 2 nights in a Baltimore hotel for this convention for his birthday gift.  Going alone didn't sound like that much fun, but he really wanted to go.  My husband, being the great guy that he is, went with him.  Throughout the weekend I received pics of the GREAT TIME they were having.  I texted my husband and asked him if he saw anyone there his age or older.  By the end of Saturday he texted me back and said YES!  He had seen three people his age or older.

It was a HUGE crowd and there were lots and lots of people in costumes.  Evidently this convention is a very big deal.  Here are a few of the pics that were sent to me over the course of the weekend.

I'm really glad I didn't have to go.  This doesn't even look like a little bit of fun to me.

35,000 people in attendance

My guys

381.  Weekend on my own 
382.  Girlfriend time (she came over for dinner and a movie)
383.  Thai restaurants that deliver
384.  The ability to make my son so happy
385.  My husband
386.  The desire to clean out a closet
387.  The energy to get some of the closet cleaned
388.  A better attitude about my job
389.  Still being ok with whatever my job turns out to be
390.  Coffee

It was worth waiting 20 years for an answer to my prayer

1 Thessalonians 5:17 says, "pray without ceasing"

This is easier said than done.

I have a story of a 20-year old prayer that I have seen answered by God in the most amazing way.  I'm going to start by telling you that I've always believed that God answers prayer.  I've been taught that God answers all prayers.  I've been taught his answers can be "yes," "no," or "wait."  I'm going to tell you that when God answers a prayer with "wait" it can be a long wait.

I've shared the joy I've experienced watching my son take the huge step of living independently.  This, my friends, is the answer to a 20-year old prayer that I had no idea would be answered in the way it was.

I'm on vacation this week.  I'm in Daytona Beach, FL.  My husband and I drove down here to enjoy the sun, surf, and sand.  One of the pleasures of that 14 hour drive is the opportunity to talk with each other.  Sure, I do most of the talking.  Yet, I'm smart enough to know that if I allow my husband to take a turn at leading the conversation, I can learn a lot about him.  So, I let him talk.

And I listened.

My husband and I were chatting about the work that needs to be done on my son's house, the cost involved, and whether or not I'll be able to quit working in June.  This is important stuff in our lives.  It's also busy work.  It's the kind of work that can keep us so busy that we don't check into the deeper feelings we have about life.  And then he said this..., "you know honey, this whole thing with our son's house and my retirement and where we are in our lives right now is all divine intervention.  You know I couldn't have planned this all out.  Things just fell into place.  It has to be God directing this, because it turned out so perfectly."

Me, (silence with mouth agape).  When I was finally able to speak all I could say was, "yeah."

For 20 years I've been praying for my son.  When he was 3 years old I was told he had learning disabilities.  At this time they couldn't give his disability a name.  They called it everything from ADD to ADHD to aspergers to pervasive delay disorder to executive function disorder to depression to dyslexia.  I medicated him.  I gave him therapy.  I hired tutors.  I brought him to psychiatrists, to psychologists, to doctors, to therapists and specialists.  I wanted to fix my son.  And all the while I prayed to God to heal my son.

Elementary school was a nightmare.  My beautiful son couldn't read.  The school couldn't teach him.  We held him back in first grade.  At the end of second grade he still couldn't read.  I took him out of school and taught him to read at home.  And I prayed, "God heal my son."

We sent him back to school in sixth grade.  The school told me they would have to hold him back.  I fought back.  I made them put him in seventh grade.  I told them if he didn't move forward he would be 16 before he entered high school and the chances of getting him to go to high school at all would be slim.  They would be creating a high school drop out and I wasn't having it.  The school agreed and allowed him into the seventh grade.

Middle school was a challenge, but we lived.

High school was the nightmare that made elementary school look like a walk in the park.  And I continued praying, "God heal my son."

My son was not being healed.  In fact, all of the experts told me my son could not be healed from his disability.  It just was who he is.  We were told he would most likely live with us for his whole life.  We needed to accept this.  I continued to pray, "God heal my son."  I was losing hope.

He was in a youth group at a church, and they just didn't know what to do with him.  It broke my heart.  I didn't expect the people in a public high school to accept my son.  I knew life would be tough for him there, but I thought he would be safe in a church youth group.  I was wrong.  They just aren't equipped for special needs kids in churches.  But it broke my heart.  And I continued to pray, "God heal my son."

I'm going to have to tell you, I was getting angry with God.  Seriously, it was going on 15 years of praying this prayer.  My son was not getting better.  I was pretty sure my son was going to be living with us for the rest of his life.  We tried to have him take college classes at the community college.  This was a dismal failure.  He didn't go to class.  He didn't even take the books out of the shrink-wrap.  He just lived in the basement and lied to us about attending classes.  Not only did I think God was ignoring my prayer, but I thought he may have been making things in my son's life worse.

And I continued to pray, "God heal my son."

At this same time my husband was becoming increasingly unhappy at his job.  His company was not appreciating the work he was doing.  It was odd, because his work was bringing money into the company at a time when finding clients was becoming a tougher and tougher thing to do, but there you have it.  They didn't think the work he was bringing in was of the caliber they believed the company wanted to have done.  After a year of defending himself and his work, everything came to a climax with an Obama Chia Pet.  (God works in mysterious ways)  One day my husband went to a luncheon with a bunch of people from his office and a woman who had left the company.  It was a fine day in January.  They woman had received an Obama Chia Pet as a "white elephant" gift at a Christmas party.  She thought my husband would enjoy it.  After the lunch he carried it into his office and the janitor, a black man, saw him carrying it into his office.  The janitor was offended.  He wasn't a little offended.  He was SUPER offended.  In fact, he was unable to continue working that day because he was so offended.

Now, not only is my husband not doing the type of work his bosses believe the company should be doing, but he has offended the janitor by carrying an Obama Chia Pet into his office.  So what happens?  My husband's boss calls him into his office and asks him what he thinks they should do in response to the janitor in the office being SUPER offended.  One suggestion from the assistant office manager was for Sensitivity Training in the office.  My husband was incensed.  My husband is not a racist.  This Obama Chia Pet was an item sold in any Walmart in any city in this nation.  My husband did not create this object.  All he did was carry it into his office.  My husband didn't mince words.  He told his boss, in no uncertain words and with some pretty course language, that Sensitivity Training was not needed in the office.  In fact, if they needed to blame someone to save their butts, they could say they fired him because he was retiring.  They could have 2, 3 or 4 weeks notice, whatever they needed, but he was done.

I continued to pray, "God heal my son."  But, I quit going to church.  I continued to have hard feelings against God.  I was losing hope.  This, in no way, looked like I was being blessed or even looked after by God.  I was feeling abandoned by God.

In the year that followed we had to evict the crappy tenants we had living in our rental house.  I've written about that mess, here.  It wasn't easy to get them out, but we did.  Then we had to clean up the mess.  These tenants trashed the house.  They broke everything.  They lived in our house the way pigs live in a sty.  (there was no way anyone could see this as a way that God was answering my prayer)

It was a this time my husband believed the best thing we could do was to fix the house and offer to sell it to our son.  (who would think the answer to my prayer would come through my husband)

Together my husband and my son worked to fix the house.  Of course, my husband worked harder on the house than my son did, but he still did quite a bit of work.  They washed walls and ceilings.  They ripped out carpeting.  They painted and scraped and cleaned and replaced appliances and repaired plumbing and worked and worked and worked.  As my son worked on the house he began to get more and more on board with the idea of purchasing the house and living in it.  When we first approached him with the idea of living in the house and having roommates to assist him in paying the mortgage and utility bills,... He... Was... Terrified.  After putting sweat equity into the house, he was feeling much better about the whole thing.  In fact, he was seriously getting on board with the idea and even getting excited about it.

My son bought the house from us last December.  He moved into the house in February.  His first roommate moved in the house in March.  He now has three roommates and he is loving life.  He is feeling confident.  He is taking a college class at the community college.

My son is still dyslexic.  My son is still on the autism spectrum.  My son is living independently.  God heard my prayer.  God answered my prayer.  God may not have answered my prayer the way I thought it should be answered, but he answered it the way it needed to be answered.  If I can say anything about what I learned while waiting on God it is this... don't give up on God.  God is faithful.  God answers prayer.  And, God's time is not my time.

But, God is good.  All the time.

290.  The beach
291.  The ocean
292.  Feeling very small and insignificant when looking over the vastness of the ocean and yet knowing how special I am to the creator of that same ocean
293.  Seeing old friends
294.  Time alone and away from the typical stresses of life and reconnecting with my husband
295.  Resting
296.  Reading
297.  Taking the time to relive this story of answered prayer in my own mind
298.  Sleeping late
299.  Going on a sea cruise

How I'm changing the world

My first Happiness Challenge update.

Remember that post I wrote about My happiness challenge?  You know, the one I'm doing for 21 days?  Well, here is the first update on the challenge and my happiness.

One of the first things in the challenge is to write an appreciative email to someone in your support group.  Someone like a family member, a co-worker, a teacher, a friend, an employee, you know, someone like that.  On the second morning of the challenge I wrote an email to my son.  Remember, these emails are short and positive.  There is no need to write a novella to brighten someone's day.  My email went something like this:

Good morning (my son's name). This is just a quick note to let you know that I am proud of you and proud of the way you've taken responsibility for your house, your classwork, your job, and your future. Remember when you said that thing a while back about me not thinking much of you and I said you just hadn't done anything to be proud of yet, but you hadn't done anything you couldn't return from either. Well, now you know what accomplishment feels like. I am very proud of you and I hope you are proud of yourself, too. 

Love,
Mom

My husband and son had lunch together today.  (we're home from our vacation and my son needed to use my husband's truck to take his trash to the dump.  we like to help him out, sometimes.)  My son told my husband that the email came to him at just the right time.  He was having trouble with a problem for a class he's taking and he felt like giving up.  This email gave him the confidence he needed to continue to work on the problem and he solved it.  BooYah! 

I've got to tell you, yesterday I didn't work the challenge.  I was traveling home from vacation and I just didn't work the entire challenge.  I did do the smiling and saying "hi" in the airport and I was friendly on the plane, but I didn't do any of the email or journaling.  But you know what?  I'm ok with that.  Today I'm journaling my one positive thing to you, dear readers, in this blog post.  Even though my son may never tell me to my face that my email made his day, I know it did and that makes my day.

Here is my encouragement to any of you out there in the blogosphere wondering how you can change the world.  Write one positive email each day to someone you know.  I think we can change the world and make it a happier place, one email at a time.

 

259.  A day in the mid-Atlantic that could almost be called spring-like

260.  April Fool's day  (it's just a fun day, isn't it)

261.  The airline lost my luggage, but then the airline found my luggage and they will send it to me tomorrow and I didn't get upset about it

262.  Daffodils EVERYWHERE!

263.  Sleeping in my own bed (why is it better, even if you need a new mattress?)

264.  Being home

A fledgling

Fledge is the stage in a young bird's life when the feathers and muscles are sufficiently developed for flight. It also describes the act of a chick's parents raising it to a fully grown state. A young bird that has recently fledged but is still dependent upon parental care and feeding is called a fledgling.  (definition from wikipedia)

Occasionally you may find a baby bird on the ground, under a tree or bush with a nest.  If the bird has all its feathers and appears to be healthy, this is most likely a fledgling.  Many people will pick the bird up and attempt to put it back in the nest only to go by the same tree or bush and find the baby bird back on the ground.  When you put the bird back in the nest, you aren't helping the bird.  In fact, you're just making the maturation process more difficult.  This time period is needed to prepare the bird for life on its own.  Remember, the parents are still caring for the bird.  They are just doing so from a distance.

I have a fledgling.  It's not a bird, but the definition fits.  I'm trying so hard to kick it out of the nest that his butt may end up with my footprint on it.

He is incredibly reluctant to move out.  I don't know if it means he's not ready or if the idea of change is just too overwhelming to him and he's paralyzed with fear?  Today I'm forcing him to submit ads in the local on-line paper and on craigslist for roommates.  He's already purchased the house and is already making mortgage payments, but he hasn't moved out of our house.  I don't understand the thinking behind this.

I have never been able to find the carrot that motivates my son.  I've been looking for it ever since he was a toddler.  I've tried the reward system.  I've tried bribery.  I've tried punishment.  Nothing has ever worked.  Now I find myself pushing my son out of our home.  He has a place to go.  He has a home.  He will only be seven miles away from us.  If he wanted, he could come to our home and have dinner every night.  My husband and I have made this opportunity for transition as gentle for him as possible.  But, for the last two weeks my son has come up with every excuse in the book to keep from moving out.  First he had a bad cold.  Ok, I get that it's tough to do stuff when you don't feel good.  Then, it was raining.  Ok, I get that moving in the rain isn't that much fun.  Then, he couldn't get ahold of his buddy that said he would help him move.  Too many excuses.  It's time to go.

I know once he gets moved into his new place, he will be fine.  I know once he gets his first roommate, he will be fine.  If any issues or questions arise, he can come to us for advice.  We won't be watching his every move.  I won't be telling him to wash his clothes.  I won't be making his meal choices for him.  I won't be telling him to brush his teeth at night.  (yeah, I know, but that's what moms do sometimes)  He will be just fine.  He will succeed.  He can do it.  He just has to take that first step and move out.

Being the mom of the reluctant adult isn't easy.  I know when I moved out of my parent's home, I couldn't move out fast enough.  So what does this say about me?  Does my son what to stay because he has such a great life at my house?  Did I want to leave my parent's home because I couldn't stand living there?  Is my son suffering from the "extended adolescence syndrome" I have blogged about in the past?  Sure, moving out and living on your own is scary.  Sure it is.  But it is worth it.  I know he will learn to love his independence and he will slowly grow into his responsibilities.  He can do this.

I guess I'm looking for any encouraging words.  Am I pushing too hard?  Am I being a good mom?  I mean, what is the definition of a good mom?  In the bird world the mom pushes the baby bird out of the nest and allows him to fall to the ground.  Does she know the fall won't kill him?  I think she does.  She knows his wing muscles are strong enough to slow his descent.  The mama bird has to be extra vigilant over the fledgling.  There are cats and other predators out there.  Not only does she have to help the fledgling by feeding him, she now has to protect him, and she has to do it from a distance.  I really don't see a whole lot of difference in, what may end up being, my new parenting style.

Btw, I'm scared, too.

from wikipedia

100.  My son did post ads for getting a roommate on craigslist and the local on-line classified.  And, he's started to get calls
101.  Hearing the excitement in his voice when he called me
102.  Dreaming of having all his stuff out of my house
103.  Getting pics texted to me from my husband while he is having a ski vacation.  He's having so much fun
104.  Plowing through a gigantic workload
105.  Feeling a little successful at being an encourager (not my strong suite)
106.  My health (although I do take it for granted sometimes)
107.  People who tell the truth
108.  Soup, any kind
109.  A good dentist

Prayer is what makes it a wonderful life

Sometimes prayers get answered in such unexpected ways.

My son is buying a house.  He is buying our house.  This is the house I wrote about a while back.  This house had been a rental property of ours.  The last tenants we had in this house were members of the 47% Mitt Romney spoke about.

"There are 47 percent of the people who will vote for the president no matter what. All right, there are 47 percent who are with him, who are dependent upon government, who believe that they are victims, who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to you-name-it -- that that's an entitlement. And the government should give it to them. And they will vote for this president no matter what. ... These are people who pay no income tax. ... [M]y job is not to worry about those people. I'll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives."  (and btw, the fact checker at CBS says Romney was right on the money when it comes to the percentage of folks paying no income tax)

If you recall, I said of the four people living in the house; the baby, the grandmother, the father and the uncle, the baby was the breadwinner of the family.  And that's the way the 47% roll.

And, if you recall, I mentioned they lived like animals.  (I'll let you pick which animal, but you cannot choose homo sapien.)  Everything in the house was broken.  Cardboard was taped over broken windows.  The stove was non-functioning and the refrigerator was full of rotting fast food in bags and styrofoam containers.  I could go on and on, but it's Christmas and I don't want to kill any sugar-plum buzzes going on out there.

Ever since we got the very bad tenants evicted from our house my son and my husband have been cleaning and painting and ripping out horrible, very stinky carpeting and replacing windows and tiling bathrooms and fixing plumbing and repairing kitchen cabinetry and replacing light fixtures.  They have been working so hard.  My son is learning how to be a homeowner in one super-crash course of home repair.

My son is becoming a man.  I've prayed for my son ever since the day he was born.  Every mother prays for their children.  But I'm now beginning to see a glimmer of an answer to prayer I had given up on God answering.  Seeing my son move toward independent living and being a homeowner is something I didn't think I would get to see.  Motivation and being a self-starter has never been his strong suit.  For some reason, and I'm not exactly sure what it is, there seems to be a huge number of adults falling into a condition I call "extended adolescence."  My son is 25, so I don't see him on the older end of this condition, because I've seen it in adults even older than he, but he has this condition, nevertheless.

I've watched the way my husband and son interact.  I've watched their relationship grow.  I think I've seen my husband become the father he wished he had.  I've seen him display patience and love and respect to my son and really show him what being a man is all about.  I've developed a stronger appreciation of the gifts of kindness and gentleness and sweetness he possesses.  I'm appreciating what he is and not focusing so much on what he is not.  My husband and I are growing as parents.

Yet, God is good and God does answer prayers.  He uses his own good time and you have to keep your eyes open.  You aren't going to be seeing me sitting back and putting my feet up and relaxing in this answer to prayer.  I'm going to keep on praying for him and for his success in living this life here on earth.  I certainly don't know what the future holds for him, but I do know he is on his way and held safely in God's hands.

I think back to the movie, It's a Wonderful Life and the scene with George's friends and family praying for him.  We hear the prayers being lifted to heaven.  I feel the power of those prayers and I believe in the power of prayer for my son, as well.

The prayer scene at the beginning of the movie.

Mr. Emil Gower: I owe everything to George Bailey. Help him, dear Father.
Giuseppe Martini: Joseph, Jesus and Mary. Help my friend, Mr. Bailey.
Ma Bailey: Help my son, George, tonight.
Bert: He never thinks about himself, God, that's why he's in trouble.
Ernie Bishop: George is a good guy. Give him a break, God.
Mary: I love him, dear Lord. Watch over him tonight.
Janie Bailey: Please, God, something's the matter with Daddy.
Zuzu Bailey: Please bring Daddy back.    

I know there was a time when I doubted God listened to my prayers.  I wondered what the point of praying was if there were no answers forthcoming.  I believed my prayers for my son were noble and should be on the top of God's list.  I was impatient.  Now I see how God used my prayers to change me and my vision of my son.  God gives us the opportunity to pray so he can use those prayers to change us.  He's not a vending machine.  No prayer is more noble than the next, but all prayer changes us to be more of what God wants us to be.

726.  Christmas movies
727.  Courage to ask for a raise (you can pray about that for me if you like)
728.  Seeing answer to a long time prayer
729.  Seeing prayers answered quickly
730.  Getting Christmas cards from old friends
731.  Poinsettias
732.  Cars with reindeer antlers on them
733.  The blessing of not having to enter the house until all the work in it is complete.  My son wants me to have the Big Reveal

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose on Thursday.

Those olympians are so lucky

I've been watching the olympics and enjoying the heck out of it.  I know NBC has had it's share of screw-ups in the broadcasting, but all-in-all, it's been fun to watch.  Since I'm a person without the opportunity or time to watch the events live, streaming on the inter-webs, NBC what I've got.

It's funny, to me, at least, how watching these summer olympics every four years finds me in a different paradigm just about each and every time.  I remember there was a time when I watched and thought to myself, I could DO that, if I really put forth some effort.  Then I'd get out there and start pounding the track or swimming (gymnastics were never my thing).  Later in my life I'd watch the olympics and think, my kid could DO that, if I get him in gymnastics class and on a swim team and playing basketball and buy him a horse (no, I never seriously thought about buying him a horse, although I do enjoy watching the equestrian events).  Now, I think I enjoy watching the parents of the gymnasts as much as I enjoy the gymnastics.  I remember my husband and I tag teaming the kid to gymnastics class.  I enjoy watching Michael Phelps' mom and Missy Franklin's parents and I remember sitting in the hot sun at so many swim meets I can't even count and I remember how hoarse I'd be from screaming encouragement to those kids.  Now, I adore seeing the 54 year old British equestrian and I feel pride, even though all I've done in my 55 years is stay alive.   

Those olympians are so lucky to be able to compete at this global level.  They get to be on tv and have the world watching them.  The parents of those olympians are so lucky to have kids that are so good at their sport or activity.  Lucky.  Yeah, lucky.

When I watch the olympics I think of thousands and thousands of hours of training and running and driving to and forth from practice.  I think of coaches and fundraisers and sacrifice.  I think about hours of homework done in the car or up late at night or getting up in the wee hours of the morning.  I don't think I'm exaggerating one little bit when I say thousands of hours.  Those olympians, they are so lucky.

Ya think?

503.  Today's work day is much much better
504.  Encouraging bloggers
505.  Bloggers with great housekeeping ideas
506.  Funny bloggers
507.  Even bloggers who've seemed to take a vacation from blogging (they remind me it's ok to take a break sometimes)

Who is the failure?

Last night my son was eating his dinner at the kitchen table, I was sitting on the couch watching the RHOBH and sipping on a vodka and tonic, and my husband was sitting on the couch playing with his iPad.  Then my son says to me, "I think, you think I'm a failure."

I'm going to guess that many of my readers are thinking I must have been devastated by these words.  To be completely honest, I wasn't.  (just a minute, let me pull this knife out of my chest and get a tissue for all this blood.)  I will say, however, it stung a bit.

This summer has been a HUGE learning opportunity for me.  You know what God Oprah says, "The universe (aka God) is always trying to get your attention. Sometimes it starts out -- any major problem you encounter -- as a whisper. By the time it gets to be a storm, you've had a pebble knock you upside the head; you've had a brick; you've had a brick wall; you've had a house fall down. And before you know it, you are in the eye of the storm. But long before you are in the eye of the storm, you've had many warnings, like little clues."

The first thing about whatever it is that I'm supposed to be learning began with the trip to MN to visit my parents and ALL the family.  This was a big learning opportunity.  I learned that no matter what I do I will never please my father.  Seriously, even if I do exactly what he asked me to do and I do it completely successfully and I do it better than even I could imagine it being done, it isn't good enough.  Even if I (and my brothers) take the money my father insisted with use to form an investment group.  Invest the money and actively try to grow this investment.  Even if the purpose of giving us this money was to try to control his children and force them into having to interact with each other as adults, whether we wanted to do this or not and believe me it hasn't always been easy but in the end we have figured out how to get along and manage the money and our relationships and it only took 15 or so years.  And we Did It!  And, he's not happy about it.  No "good job" or "you did it" or "you are great kids" or even "you didn't screw this up."  Nothing.  Silence.  Well, not silence, because I've heard some snide comments, but you know what I mean.

My husband wonders why I always consider myself a failure or find the problems in anything I do or say, even if it seems like I was successful.  I can always find my mistakes or find things I think I could have done better.  I have to tell you, these overwhelming feelings of failure don't just come a couple times each week.  They come over me any time of the day.  I can be walking into the bathroom to get ready for work and I see knik-knaks sitting on the windowsill that I've thought to myself, "you know, you should sell that stuff on eBay" and then I'll see the things sitting there, not being sold on eBay and I'll think to myself (and sometimes even say out loud), "I'm a failure."  This happens so often during a day, even I can't believe it.  For some reason I have convinced myself that anything I think I should do is something I should do and if I haven't done it and if I haven't done it better than I think anyone could do it, I'm a failure.

I don't think my son is a failure.  I told him, "I don't think you are a failure."  He hasn't failed at anything, yet.  I told him he hadn't really done anything yet either, but he was still young and had time to succeed or fail at whatever he chooses to do.  Somehow I have been a great success at reflecting my father's opinion of me onto my son.  I continued trying to be encouraging to my son and tell him over and over that I don't think he is a failure.  While I'm trying to say encouraging things, my husband is translating what I'm saying to my son, so he can hear it in a positive tone.  (is the irony of my screen name and blog name showing?)  Who knows if my son can even hear anything encouraging or positive from me anymore.  Maybe after 25 years of listening to the sound of my voice, maybe "pass the salt" sounds like "you're a failure" to him when it comes out of my mouth.

I believe God is showing me the how and why of my personality and showing me clearly, that I need to work on positivity harder and stronger than I've been working on it.  I thought I was getting more positive.  And, maybe I have.  Maybe I wouldn't have noticed how negatively my father behaves if not for becoming a more positive person.  Maybe my son wouldn't have had the courage to say those words to me if not for noticing I've become a more positive person.  Maybe...  maybe...

I know I don't want to get to the point of being in the eye of the storm.  I don't even want my house to fall down on me (I've been close enough to that when the tree fell on my house).  Those words from my son's mouth last night were definitely a pebble hitting me in the head.  Yeah, it hurt a little.  It hurt enough to get my complete attention.  Being encouraging.  Being positive.  Being Happy.  These are the important things to be.

480.  My son and his honesty
481.  My son and his love for me
482.  My son and his trust in me
483.  My son and his faith in God
484.  My husband for translating my words and tone for my son to hear

Mark Stivers 2004

A letter to my 32 year old self

Hi Sweetie,

Welcome to Monterey, CA.  You are going to have a blast here.  Thank you, Navy, for putting us up in this rockin' duplex at the top of the hill in La Mesa.  (fyi, boy this website makes it look so much different than it did when I lived there.  if you look at the map, my house was on revere rd.)  This is such a cute little (read, tiny) house.  I think it's great that you fit all our furniture in this house and I really don't care that you're using our kitchen table as an end table in the front room.  I think it looks just great like this.  We will eat in the kitchen on a tiny plastic table with our son, sitting in his high chair.  This is going to work out just great.  The kitchen is so little, you'll be able to wash the floor in five minutes with a cup of water.  You will LOVE it.

It's great to be here at Post Graduate school.  I'm happy the husband decided to get a master degree and not go to war with all his friends.  I know this is the kiss of death for his naval career, but you'll be glad to have him here with you and our 2 year old son.  It's cool to see old friends from Italy here, too.  It's too bad we will only be here a year and a half, but this is better than never have gotten to live here at all.

I know it was a bummer to get Bell's Palsy right after you got here.  I know it was a shame you had to miss your brother's wedding in Chicago.  Being sick and in pain isn't fun.  Good thing the pain only lasted for a month.  The five more months of paralysis sucked, but you'll get better and you'll hardly remember how crummy it was.  Good for you to get out and still make an effort to meet new people and start an Avon business with your face half frozen.  Wasn't it amazing to see how much of that stuff you sold.  You really put forth a lot of effort.  Good for you for not being so self-conscious and vain that you thought all that people cared about was how your face looked or how short your hair was.  Good for you for acting like an adult.  After all, you are 32 years old and the mom of a two year old.  It's good that you are able to get out and meet people and make friends.  You are doing the right thing by not waiting for your husband to get home and entertain you or take your child off your hands.  He's busy and he has homework.  Getting a master's degree in a year and a half is hard work.  This hard work is something he will be able to take with him when he leaves the navy.  You will be able to look back at this time of your life and remember how good it feels to be a strong woman.

You are going to love that you were supportive of your husband and his schoolwork.  It's great that he bought an Apple 2E computer.  It was worth all the money.  I know you had to eat popcorn and hot dogs for a month to make the payments for that computer and the Volvo.  (I'll bet you didn't know you were going to drive that Volvo for 17 years.)  But it was worth it to make sacrifices for your future.  It's good that you were able to put off your immediate gratification to save for your son's future and the future of your family.  (and, you learned to appreciate Apple and it's founder Steve Jobs.  that is really going to pay off in the future.)  You know, your husband is going to appreciate you typing all his papers for class.  Isn't it amazing that back then we wrote our papers in longhand and had to have someone read that chicken scratch and type it up!  I'm glad you put forth the effort to do this for your husband.  He's going to remember things like this when you need to take time for yourself.

Finally, I know that the earthquake you experienced was a terrible thing.  I know you were scared out of your mind because husband and son were away from the house.  I know those 15 seconds were the longest 15 seconds of your life, but you endured.  I know that seeing your husband come home on his bike and wondering what all the fuss was about was the happiest moment of your life.  And, I know that giving away any extra blankets or food or kitchen equipment or money or whatever you could give to help those who had more damage than your family never caused you to bat an eye or feel a pang of resentment.  I want you to know, that when that phone rang, and it was your mother, and you got the opportunity to tell her you were all ok and then the phone died and didn't start working again for a week, yeah, that was God.  (amazing how we managed before cell phones and email and the internet)  You are never going to forget that moment.  You know what you're going to remember the most?  You're going to remember getting all the families on the street together to bar-b-que, because none of us had electric or gas for a week.  You're going to remember, because you gave up most of your summer to do the HUGE vacation bible school music and program, so many of the families in the neighborhood knew you and were happy to help your family just the way you were happy to help their families.  You're going to remember how much this time in your life felt like community and the best way navy families support each other.

You will remember your time in Monterey, CA so fondly.  You are always going to wish you could go back.  But you know, you can never go home.  If you do get a chance to go back, just know, things have changed.  You will have changed, too.  Have fun at Cannery Row.  Enjoy the Monterey Bay Aquarium and watch the otters play.  Go down to Carmel by the Sea and Big Sur.  Check out the Dennis the Menace park and remember how much fun your little one had there.  Go down to Fisherman's Wharf and feed the sea lions.  Yeah, do all those things and remember that you didn't miss a beat while you were there.  You had the time of your young life.  I'm proud of you for being the strong, adult, navy wife you were back then.  You did yourself and your family proud.

Love,
Your 55 year old self

471.  Having the time to remember a fun time in my past
472.  Learning from different people with different points of view in my small group bible study
473.  Listening and being able to accept their positions without feeling like I have to change their opinions
474.  Realizing that this is emotional growth for me
475.  Seeing emotional growth in my son, too (or maybe I'm seeing him through more grown-up eyes)

Let's hear it for the dads

I hope everybody, who can, calls their dad and wishes him a Happy Father's Day.  Dads are great.  Dads are even greater when moms let them be dads and do dad kind of things.  I love to see dads out there playing and running and climbing and just plain doing stuff with their kids.  It's great to see kids outside, helping with chores like washing the car and yard work with their dad.  Somehow, the feminist movement may have empowered moms to go to work and take authority in the family, but dad (if he is in the picture) still gets stuck with the yard work.  I'm praying that all the sah moms I see on fb, letting their kids play video games and watch tv all day, will allow the dad of the family to play with the kids.  Dads teach kids things moms just can't.  They talk differently to their kids.  They come at life from a different angle.  There is no way mom can be the dad to a kid.  When I watch my husband teaching my son how to change the oil in the car or rotate the tires, I get a warm feeling in my heart.  I don't know if my son will ever take it upon himself to do these things, but my husband can sleep well at night knowing he put for the effort taught him how to do it.

I remember when our son left home and moved across the country (and then came back).  My husband got a bit misty, and what he said was, "I haven't prepared him well enough."  Since my son came home, my husband has gone above and beyond to prepare him for life.  My husband is my son's father and friend.  Dads can teach sons how men are with each other.  Dads can teach daughters how special they are.  Parenting is hard work.  It's so sad that the family structure is breaking so often in this country.  It's sad that our expectations of what a family should be is so unrealistic that people would rather throw it away than stay in the struggle.  Happy Father's Day to all the dads.  Keep it up dads!  Keep taking care of the kids and keep loving the moms (preferably the mom you had the kids with).  You are more than an open wallet.  You are the dad, and that's a very important job.

363.  My dad
364.  My husband
365.  My marriage
366.  The value my parents taught me to put on family
367.  Staying in the struggle of being married when it got hard ('cause sometimes marriage gets hard to do) and sticking it through to the good times ('cause the good times come when you keep loving and letting them know you do)

I have to share this new Coke commercial.  I know, I know, it's a commercial, but it's really well done.  It's very uplifting.  There is good in the world, and sometimes it gets caught on camera.  :)

A mother's prayer for her child, by Tina Fey

Thank you, Tina Fey, for putting into words the thing we moms secretly pray for our daughters.

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

Tina Fey, Bossy Pants 

Continuing 1000 gratitudes
240.  My son (without whom I wouldn't be a mom)
241.  Ok, my husband, too (I needed him to make me a mom, too)
242.  Spf 50 waterproof suntan lotion
243.  Teaching my son to make pasta and sauce over the cell phone 
244.  Walking on the beach
245.  My mom (without her, I wouldn't be me) 

 

I wonder how long I'll continue to work

It's only Tuesday and I feel as if I've worked an entire week.  It's like this in the days and weeks before a trustee meeting.  My boss is the king of procrastination.  He's so funny, and by so funny, I mean he's not funny in any way, when he finishes a report and emails it to me and then asks me if "I'm done."  Seriously, all I have to do after he gives me reports is proofread them, convert them to pdfs, put headers and page numbers on them, and compile them into one document.  I guess he thinks that takes a nanosecond.  Regardless, I'm a secretary and that's what I do.  I format.  I type.  I file.  I answer the phone. 

I went to Human Resources today to look at my health benefit package.  One time a year we are allowed to revise our package and if you miss it, too bad for you.  I wanted to check into two things.  The first thing I wanted to check was the coverage for my son.  I am very fortunate to be able to provide my son's health and dental insurance until he it 26 years old.  After that, he is on his own.  This year will be the final year of health insurance coverage by me, his dear old mom.  I pray he finds a job with benefits soon.  (this is the first hint needed to answer the question how long I'll continue to work)  The second thing I wanted to check was the process for getting my husband on my company's insurance.  He's retired now.  With this retirement came a cancellation of his company's insurance coverage.  I got my answers and now I know exactly what I need to do.

We know we don't want Obamacare.

Today I got a sliver of the feeling my husband had all these past years of employment.  All these years my husband has been carrying the weight of providing for his family on his shoulders.  My job always provided the "extras."  It provided some extra income.  It provided some extra benefits, like free tuition, had my son wanted to take advantage of this.  He did not.  Now, I am the provider of benefits.  I feel the responsibility of it.  This just gives me even more respect for my husband.  How was it that I was completely unaware of this feeling while I was a sahm.  I'm sure it had a lot to do with being the primary care giver to our child.  I wonder if my husband ever feels the responsibility I was feeling while I was doing the "mom-thing."  You see, now he is home when my son is home from work and I am not.  Isn't life funny sometimes?

I wonder how long I'll continue to work?  People ask me this a lot.  People ask my husband this question a lot.  I guess the answer is, for sure a year.  I like working toward a goal.  Maybe my goal will be June 25, 2013.  How does that sound?

121.  A job that provides health insurance
122.  Doctors willing to use the health insurance my company provides
123.  Dental insurance
124.  A healthy husband and son
125.  The ability to let insensitive comments roll off my back
126.  A small space heater under my desk for these cooler spring days after they've turned the heat off in my building
127.  Knowing there are leftovers in the refrigerator at home when I know I'll be too tired to cook
128.  Good discussion on ethics and how to work toward changing the world for God
129.  Church-wide bible study
130.  Opportunities to serve others in the name of Christ

My dog is trying to kill me

There are so many things I'd like to write about.  I'd like to rant about the people complaining and hating on Kirk Cameron for criticizing homosexuality and gay marriage on Peirs Morgan's show.  He said, ”Marriage is almost as old as dirt, and it was defined in the garden between Adam and Eve. One man, one woman for life till death do you part, so I would never attempt to try to redefine marriage. And I don’t think anyone else should either,” Cameron said. “So do I support the idea of gay marriage? No, I don’t.”  So GLAAD is slamming him and friends and fans are distancing themselves and calling him a hater.  Of course this is his opinion.  Piers knew this would be his position.  Why is anyone surprised.  Kirk hasn't been double minded on this issue.  And he's not a hater.  Conservative christianity is not a hate group.

I'd like to write about Rush Limbaugh and Sandra Fluke and the "slut" sh*tstorm.  What a surprise.  Rush said the American tax payer does not want to pay for her birth control.  The government should not subsidize her sex life.  Rush said, "What does that make her?  It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute. She wants to be paid to have sex. She's having so much sex she can't afford contraception. She wants you and me and the taxpayers to pay her to have sex."  I know it is utterly surprising that Rush Limbaugh made an inflammatory and provocative remark on his own show.  I'm stunned.  *not*

I won't write about any of that.  I'm going to write about my dog.  I have a dog.  His name is Chet.  He is very old in dog-years, but I don't know what dog-years are so I'll just say he is 15 years old.  He is a Jack Russell Terrier.  He is trying to kill me.  He's been trying to kill me for the last 14 and a half years.  So far, I've been smart enough to out wit him and avoid death.  I have been injured, but not fatally.  He has a few favorite methods.  The methods mostly fall into the category of stealth operatives.  His favorite is to lay on the third step down on the staircase.  He usually times it for laundry day when I am toting baskets of laundry up and down the stairs.    He prefers to lay on the third step from the top of the staircase just before I am ready to carry the basket of dirty clothes down the stairs to the laundry room.  He's a clever one, that Chet.  Fortunately, I'm still smarter than a dog, but I'm afraid my day may be coming.

Another of his modus operandi is to stay very close to my feet while I am cooking.  He prefers to be nearby during times I am chopping with a very sharp knife or carrying a pan of boiling water to the sink.  He is crafty and manages to get underfoot just at the moment I am walking the knife or boiling water to the kitchen sink.  He's been known to bunch the small throw rug in front of the sink into an alternate obstacle for tripping.  This way he can get me coming and going.

When he was a younger dog he made his attempts for my demise by pulling me into traffic during walks.  He usually waited until we were near the end of our walk and he knew I was tired.  He would take his opportunity and YANK me into oncoming traffic.  I survived.  I was injured a few times, but not fatally.  Now that he is up there in dog-years he has developed a new method to try to kill me.  He has developed the ability to emit the stinkiest gases known to man.  They are released from both ends of his body, sometime simultaneously.  It is truly his most effective weapon thus far.  I sometimes wonder if I should take him to a vet because this odor is effective in clearing a room of any living creature in three seconds flat. Chet has a, seemingly, unending amount of these malodorous airs about himself.  And, it seems, he can produce them at will.  This odor can cause gagging and watery eyes.  Seriously, the government could use it as a WMD if they could bottle it.

I have a dog.  I never really wanted a dog.  My son and husband REALLY wanted a dog.  So, I have a dog.  I know I won't have my dog for much longer.  Sometimes, when he is sleeping, and he sleeps almost ALL the time, I wonder if he's still alive.  I know I'll be sad when his time comes.  I'll be sad, but I'll be safer.  :)

31.  Sunny days
32.  Spring-like weather
33.  Farm fresh veggies
34.  Essential oil diffuser for my office
35.  Pink grapefruit essential oil
36.  Pink grapefruits

Don't let this cute face fool you

I plan & God laughs

Things are changing around me.  I know life is constantly changing.  Nothing stays the same.  You cannot step into the same river twice.  "Change brings opportunity."  "We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance."  "If we don't change, we don't grow.  If we don't grow, we aren't really living."  "It's the most unhappy people who fear change."  "Just when I think I have learned to live life, it changes."  "Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine."

Thank you, old Native American, Nido Qubein, Harrison Ford, Gail Sheehy, Mignon McLaughlin, Hugh Prathner, and Robert C. Gallagher, for words of wisdom on change.

I especially enjoyed the one reminding me "It is the most unhappy people who fear change."  Wow.  Thanks for that!  I admit it.  I'm a bit scared of the changes happening in my life right now.  Remember me, I'm the girl who likes a plan.  Let me tell you, the plan has all gone to hell.  I know, I know...Mentsch tracht, Gott lacht (man plans, God laughs).  I trust God.  I know God has the real plan for my life.  Today, everything seems just out of my grasp.  I can't put my fingers on the changes going on around me.  I'm not in control.  I've always known I'm not in control, but sometimes it feels like you have some control and then you start to believe you are in control and this is what has, kinda, happened to me in a lot of parts of my life.

This is over for me.  I have no control.  My son, although still living at home, is taking a class.  In the past, this has not worked well for him, but he's giving it another try.  I have to trust he will put forth effort this time.  Trust.  My husband is making decisions for his future.  These plans include me, but he's in control of when he decides to do whatever it is he decides to do, not me.  There will be change.  It is inevitable.  I need to trust my husband to do the right thing.  I need to trust my son to do the right thing.

What is the Right Thing?  I'll tell you what I think the right thing is.  The right thing is what I want them to do.  However, and this is hard to type, the right thing may NOT be the thing I want them to do.  This is a scary thought.  This is where trust comes in.  I may think the right thing for my son is to work hard in his class and get an A.  I'm encouraging him to go to class and do the work, but I can't do it for him.  I wish I could, but I can't.  I may think the right thing for my husband to do is to stay right where he is in his employment.  Tough it out.  However, my husband's plan for his future may be the best thing.  I have to trust his good sense and knowledge of himself and the love he has for his family and keeping us secure.  Trust.

Finally, I need to trust I am in God's will and in the middle of his plan.  Yep, I said finally.  Why this comes to me at last instead of first is part of my problem.  For some reason, I have the idea that I am NOT in the middle of God's plan if I'm not in complete obedience to God.  Well, I'm not completely obedient.  I haven't been to church the past two Sundays.  I don't read my bible every day.  I don't confess my sins every day.  I cuss.  I break almost all the Commandments.  I know God's love for me is big, but so are consequences of disobedience.  I'm consequence phobic.  I don't mind doing the crime, but I don't want to do the time.  (Baretta, old tv show)  Here's the other problem I have with trusting God's plan.  Sometimes God's plan isn't even CLOSE to what I would like.  Sometimes it's 180 degrees out.  This scares me, too.  Trust. 

There is no way around trust.  I have to trust people other than myself.  I have to trust my husband.  I have to trust my son.  I have to trust God.  I guess I'm lucky, even though I don't feel lucky just now.  All the people I am being put in the position to trust, love me.  They all love me a LOT.  And, I love them.  Now all I have to do is act like I love them and show them I trust them. 

I trust you to make the best decision for our family, honey.

I trust you to do well and make an effort, sweetie.

I trust you, God.  I really do.

Normal has returned

The final project in the restoration of my home was completed today.  It feels good to have the walls and ceilings and windows sound again.  It's good to have this all behind me.  I still have to finish putting a few of the odds and ends back into place.   But, for all intents and purposes, normal has returned to my house.  This experiences held so many lessons for me.  There is nothing like having your home, your sanctuary, invaded.  It teaches you about yourself and what you can do.

I've learned I have a strength I wasn't sure I possessed.  I'm strong enough to carry five gallon buckets of water from the attic to the bathroom all night long.  I'm strong enough to deal with insurance companies and mortgage companies who don't want to give me my money.  I'm strong enough to push my son to take action when he is paralyzed with fear.  I know I'm not the person saying quit, but the person saying persevere.  It's good to know.

I learned I'm the person who trusts my husband.  I don't have to double check his work.  I know he will do whatever is necessary to get the job done.  He spent hours (I'm not kidding or exaggerating in regard to this) on the phone with the mortgage company.  They did not want to give us our insurance money.  I think my husband learned to have confidence in me, too.

I learned I can make decisions, and then be satisfied with my decisions.  I know this may not sound like much, but for me it is.  I have a huge fear of not being to make decisions in my life.  I observed my mom and her mother, my grandmother, have difficulty making decisions in their lives.  I've had a few experiences in my life with buyer's remorse and it scared me.  I don't want to be the person that cannot make up her mind.  This experience offered opportunity after opportunity to make decisions and choices.  I rose to the challenge.  I made decision after decision without hesitation.  There are some things I'm happier with than others, but, you know what, it doesn't matter to me.  I'm not fretting over the roof being a bit lighter gray than I'd hoped.  I'm not upset the window is a half an inch taller than it should have been.  It's done.  The fact of the matter is, nobody but me will ever know the difference.

We've still got a few trees leaning this way and that way.  They will be taken care of in due time.  Normal has returned.  Life is good.

Fear Not

I heard, somewhere, that the Bible says "Fear Not" or some form of don't be afraid 365 times.  I did some research, because this just sounded too cute to be true.  I'm sorry to burst anyone's bubble out there in the blogosphere (even you blogstalkers :)) but, it doesn't.

In the King James version there are 74 fear nots and 29 be not afraids.
In the New American Standard version there are 4 fear nots, 57 do not fears, and 46 do not be afraids. 

You can check all the other translations or versions or whatever you call them, for the stats in those.

Here is my point.  This week held a lot of drama in the Happy Girl family.  One of our family received a notice that one of our members was being sued for injury claims said to have been received in a car accident.  Another of our family was considering leaving their job due to differences of values in the company.  And, our BRAND NEW roof is leaking.  There are a couple other things that happened, too.

Even though there is not a Fear Not for every day of the week, I am not afraid.  Even if God told me only once, Fear Not, I'd believe him and not be afraid.  I have nothing to fear, for if God is for me, who can be against me.  NO ONE.  Not bosses that don't have your back.  Not insurance swindlers.  Not blogstalkers.  Not rain clouds and water.  There is not one person or thing I need to fear.

The shepherds were in the fields tending their flocks and the angel of the Lord appeared to them and said "Don't be afraid.  I bring you good news of great joy...a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord."

There is no reality

Only perception.

This is truth.  Right now I find myself struggling in the quicksand of perception.  I've written here of my son.  My problem, I believe, is my perception of my son's capabilities.  The last diagnosis he received, before he became an adult, was executive function disorder.  As far as I can understand, this is a severe type of ADD.  When he became an adult, he decided to quit taking any medication.  I'm not sure he was ever on a med that truly helped him, but nonetheless, he quit taking all meds.  Currently, I'm struggling with a couple issues. 

First, will my son ever be able to live independently?  I struggle with whether or not this is a problem.  If my son had been born with down's syndrome or any other debilitating condition, my husband and I would have prepared to have our son with us until we died.  If this were the case, my husband and I would be THRILLED with the level he currently functions at.  But, because my son has the capacity to drive, to work, to learn, has a high school diploma, but has no initiative or follow-through, does this mean we should require less of him.  It's such a struggle for me.  There are times when I think, "just kick him out and let the chips fall where they may."  And there are times when I think, "I can't do that to him.  I have to help him."  I don't know the right thing to do.  I've been trying to teach him to save money, to budget, to plan ahead.  It seems these concepts are out of his reach. 

Secondly, my son is an adult.  He needs to make his own medical decisions.  I'm trying to encourage him to see a psychiatrist and re-evaluate his condition.  Maybe there are meds that would help him.  Currently he is covered under my health insurance, but this will only last for six more months.  I don't know what to do.  I'm struggling.  I'd love to be able to take it under my control and "fix" him, but I can't.
 
It's all perception.  What is the reality of my son's situation?  How hard should I push?  How much should I let go?  How much should I help?  These are the questions robbing me of sleep at night.  This is my unanswered prayer to God.

 Help me Dr. Phil

All the news that's fit to tell

Things have been swirling around my life lately and, unfortunately, I haven't had an opportunity to sit down and tell you all about them.  So much to tell with so little time to do the telling.

I'll start with my job.  Whew!  It has been BUSY.  You may remember back on August 28th we had a hurricane down in my neck of the woods.  This particular hurricane brought A LOT of rain with it.  There wasn't a lot of damage here at the college where I work, but there was a lot of moisture.  A week after the hurricane we had A LOT of rain.  A LOT.  Along with the rain we had very humid conditions.  Frankly, the weather was crummy.  At this time I was in Reno, NV enjoying myself at the Tailhook convention and worrying about the patch in my roof leaking.  Here at the college, however, a different creature was taking hold in two of our residence halls.  MOLD.  And a lot of it.  Oh no???!!!! What will we do?  The first thing we did was move 350 kids out of their dorm rooms and set them up in hotels around this county and in one county over.  This is not exactly the "college experience" these kids were looking for, or for that matter, the experience their parents had paid for.  So, I spent a week handling crappy parent phone calls.  Exhausting.  Then, one alum came up with an idea.  His idea was this.  Why not float a cruise ship up to the college and let the kids live on it?  Brilliant.  So, the following week we began to jump through all the hoops involved to get a cruise ship docked near the college.  Fyi, there are a lot of hoops.  Oh, and btw, the folks that tell you the news found this a FASCINATING story.  There have been press all over the place.  My boss is the point man for most of the talking and showing of all stuff mold and cruise ship.  Needless to say, the phone is ringing off the hook.  After the press gets a hold of the story, guess what?  Sales people for every sort of mold remediation, air purification, cleaning, painting, you name it, have called and called and called.  Imagine 75-100 telemarketers calling you for five days in a row.  Exhausting.  There is a press conference going on right now and I hear the ship tooting it's horn and helicopters flying overhead taking pictures.  Wonderful.

So, I was tired.  In the midst of my tirednessness an opportunity presented itself.  My husband was invited to play in a FREE blackjack tournament in Atlantic City.  He didn't think he wanted to go.  He thought he should stay home and work on our tree debris and other repair projects we have to do.  But, I told him, it's going to RAIN all day Saturday.  Yippee!!!  Rain.  Let's go to AC.  He didn't win $35,000 at the black jack tournament, this time, but we did have a wonderful time.  I relaxed.  I napped.  I put a few items on eBay.  Wonderful.

Which leads me to tell you what has been going on with eBay.  Or, more to the point, PayPal.  It seems the government didn't feel it was getting its fair share of tax from my eBay sales.  So now, if you sell more than 200 items and make $20,000 you have to file a Form-1099 and pay income tax on your eBay sales.  This is new for 2011 and it's just another way Obama has his hand in my pocket to give out money to people who don't want to pay their own bills.  Btw, I'm selling stuff I've found in my closet.  I've already paid tax on these items.  Give me a break.  However, there is a bright side to this story.  My son has an eBay account and PayPal account.  I asked him if he would mind if I used his account to sell my stuff.  He balked, at first, but relented.  He knows I love eBaying and he showed his love for me by sharing his account.  Wonderful.

While we were in AC, or rather, immediately after we arrived in AC my son called to tell me he got in a car accident.  CRAP.  Poor guy, he's ok, his car is a total loss.  He had JUST gotten it back from being repaired from having a tree fall on it during hurricane Irene.  I think he had had it back for one week.  NUTS.  It was drizzling, he was driving a bit too fast for the conditions, the car in front of him stopped short, he hit his breaks, slid off the road and hit a telephone pole.  Well, when you hit a telephone pole there are two things you know for sure.  One thing, it's your fault.  Telephone poles don't jump out in front of your car.  You're going to get a ticket.  Second thing, your car is going to get wrecked.  Telephone poles aren't going anywhere.  They stay put and your car bends and breaks.  Oh yeah, and the air bags deploy (add $1000).  So now his car is gone.  Things haven't exactly been going his way.  On the up side, I didn't get angry or yell.  I asked him if he was ok and patiently waited for my husband to return from his massage to tell him the news.  Wonderful.

I think this just about catches everyone up on my wonderful life.  I'm staying positive.  I'm employed, albeit working a bit too hard just now, I'm back on eBay and LOVING it, and my son is OK and he's lucky.  His grandma had given him her car when she passed away.  :)

Maybe there is a "do over" in parenting

Yesterday I wrote a post about there NOT being a "do over" in parenting.  I'm not a Mommy Blogger, but I am a mom.  After I posted this I started thinking about it.  A lot. 

Yesterday's post kinda made me look like I was/am a bad mom.  I'm not a bad mom.  I don't think any parent is a perfect parent.  I made mistakes in my parenting and I shared those with you guys.  I just wanted to put a little experience, hope and strength out there in the blogosphere.  I'm trying very hard to be the encouraging and inspiring parent we all want to be.  And, I want my kid to move out of my house and live life on his own terms,... soon.

This led me to this thought.  Hey, maybe I will get my "do over."  How, you may ask? 

Maybe I'll be a grandma some day.

My mom and her great grandson