Lessons from my Mom

      I have been feeling really down the last couple of weeks. I finally figured out that I miss my Mom. The Mom I knew many years ago before time and illness took its toll. This week is not a milestone week, no birthdays or anniversaries, just a regular week. I did realize that I never really got to have a “grieving process”. I literally went from one crisis to another. Even at the funeral we were having to worry about getting to the next pressing nonmovable issue. So I hope you will allow me a few minutes to tell you what I learned from my mother.

First, is a love of reading. Not just a casual picking up a book, but a crawl in to the pages, have the characters become friends, live in their town, stay up until three in the morning because you don’t want to put it down type of passion. Thanks to my Mom this seed has grown in to a beautiful garden. Full of English poetry, wizarding worlds, mysteries, lords and ladies, as well as hungry caterpillars and hopping on pop. I cried when we lost Charlie Gordon, overthrew governments with Katniss Everdeen, ministered in small towns with Tim Cavanaugh, rooted for Elinor Dashwood to finally get her man, and went on incredible journeys with Frodo to destroy an evil ring. I have had the wonderful opportunity to dive in to worlds that I never knew existed, or really don’t except in someone’s way too fertile mind.

Never miss the opportunity to put a bucket on your head. I think I have forgotten this lately. When Christian was little, he toddled over to my Mom and put a bucket on her head. It stayed there the whole time they were outside. Never said anything about it, seemed as normal as playing in the dirt. It never occurred to her not to do it. How much easier would life be if we didn’t think about the little things and let life see where it takes us? Put a bucket on your head, play in the dirt and listen to what little ones are saying. Makes life much easier that way.

Accept people for who they are. All of us have our idiosyncrasies, vices, issues, good qualities, bad qualities and that all rolled up makes us the person we are. It is not my job to change people or judge them for what they do. If it offends me or makes me uncomfortable that is my problem, not theirs. I am free to choose who my friends are and so are they. But if I get to know the people that I may perceive as “different” I will learn that we are not really that different, may even become great friends, or maybe not. Either way, I have learned more about them and myself. Who knows, they may be just as offended that I have a bucket on my head.

Women are just as capable as men. While that may seem like a “duh” statement but a lot of times it is not. Through my Mom and grandmother, I learned that women can be fiercely independent and hardworking. It never crossed their minds that they couldn’t do whatever they set their mind to. When my Mom wanted a higher education, she worked it out while teaching and raising a family. She had an entire High School library built from scratch because she didn’t listen to the people who told her it couldn’t be done. When she was finished, she went down to the elementary school and did it all again. It was never a case of showing up men or being a movement. She was a brilliant person and expected everyone to see her that way.

Always be willing to help, but don’t become a nuisance. My Mom never really volunteered to do things for other people. She always felt she was being intrusive. She would tell people to let her know if there was anything she could do and she expected you to tell her, but she would not just dive in to other people’s business. If you needed a ride somewhere, help with a bake sale or even a glass of water from the kitchen she would gladly jump up and get it for you. But she never told you what glass you needed or what you needed to bake at the sale. She just served quietly, behind the scenes. No thanks needed, but definitely appreciated. Everyone needs a helping hand every now and again, be there when needed, and know when you are not.

 

Remember to tell people that you love them and know that you will miss them when they are gone. Thankfully the last time I saw my Mom while she was still coherent I was able to kiss her on the forehead and tell her I loved her. A few days later she was gone. She is now with my Dad. Quietly watching her grandchildren, maybe reading a book, assuredly with a bucket on her head.

The Risk of Family

 

This summer my family decided to play the board game Risk.  Not just any Risk game, but the Star Wars version.  Instead of countries and continents to overthrow it is planets and star systems.  As with any long term board game, the best place to play is smack dab in the middle of the kitchen table.  We even took a leaf out so that the board pretty much covers the entire table.  Not to be outdone is the dining room table, which is covered by another long term project that I am beginning to think needs to drop the “long term” and become the permanent project.  So my family is now relegated to eating in the living room.  They don’t seem to mind as much as I do.  The roll their eyes and relent to my demands of towels on the floor and in their laps.  The dogs seem to think that this is their opportunity to resume the begging/salivating pose at my feet. 

Back to the game that began all this.  When we started several weeks ago, everyone carefully placed their pieces, thought of their strategies, where they were the most vulnerable, etc.  It started to be very clear that wherever Mom (me) placed a piece, the kids would instantly gravitate to this area of the board to try to block me in.  I have wonderful kids, but their ability to work together up till now has been severely lacking.  Trying to out strategize seems to be bringing them closer together, at least in the “get Mom” category. 

We began the game and it became apparent that this was indeed everyone’s strategy to “get Mom”.  I don’t know why I was chosen as the biggest threat (or the easiest to get rid of), but I seem to be on the losing end of wave after wave of invasions.  I have tried all sorts of pleadings.  With my daughter I tried to institute “Girl power!”  Nope, she was not buying it.  With my son I tried to remind him of the hours of labor, all the times I have shuttled him from place to place and have never missed a game.  That just seemed to egg him on with more vengeance.  Last, I tried to remind my husband that we have to be a united front against the tyranny of the children.  All that got was a laugh and a new invasion. 

So now I sit with just three planets!  Every time someone tries to invade me I either lose, or become even more vulnerable, just in time for the next person to take advantage of a wounded planet.  When it is finally my turn they seem to revel in the lack of planets to be counted and my meager reinforcement troops.  Oh well, soon my “race” will be annihilated and they will have to find another victim.  I’m guessing my husband.  Then it will be all out war when just the kids are left.  Or who knows, maybe my luck will change, doubt it, and I will come back stronger than ever.  Whatever the outcome I am taking in the moments to get to spend time with my family, until they start laughing at my demise again.  Just another day in my sometimes exciting, sometimes dull, but always interesting life.

Never too old for the Sandbox

Last night my daughter, Emmy, asked me to come outside and play with her.  My first thought was that I was overly tired, still had to clean up from dinner and had to pick up my son in a few hours.  I didn’t want to go outside.  I wanted a clean house.  But then I thought of the pledge I made myself last year.  We spent so much time with my mother before she passed away, that we really didn’t get to enjoy the leisure of summer.  There was no going to the pool, no chasing fireflies, no going for snow cones.  I vowed that this summer would be different.  So with that pledge, I went outside.  I found her in the sandbox.  I have no real creativity in the make believe department, so I was a little apprehensive about what would happen over the next couple of hours.  My daughter, who is eleven, has always loved playing in the sandbox.  I think it is therapy for her to manipulate the sand, make things, just dig around.  I am beginning to think I can learn a lot from her.  At first we tried to make sand castles.  The sand was not moist enough so our cups never really did set up well.  She did not see this as a problem.  The broken parts became walls around a moat, fallen mountain sides, or anything else she could think of.  What I saw as not working, she saw the beauty of the situation. 

 

Then we moved on to opening a restaurant.  We went in to the house and took all the old plastic containers, spoons, spatulas, more cups out to the sandbox.  Much laughing ensued when she started putting stuff in different containers.  “This one is eggs, it goes in the refrigerator”, “this one is sugar it goes on the shelf”.  By the time she had finished getting ready we had about twelve tubs full of sand.  Thankfully I was able to remember that the “eggs” were in the margarine container on the ledge and the “sugar” was in a glad container behind me.  She was a mean cook and made every meal perfectly.  Then as I “ate” it I would dump sand on her and she would laugh so hard she would get hiccups.  Charlie, our little dog, decided to get in to the action.  He hated the feel of sand on his feet so he hopped in to my lap and stayed.  Boomer, my German Shepherd mix, would poke his head in on occasion, but was more interested in chasing birds and lying under a tree.  After Charlie got settled, Emmy asked him what he would like.  We decided he would like dog chow with a side of bow wow.  He was a good sport and stayed until his “food” was ready.  That may have had something to do with the fact I was petting him, though. 

Too soon, the sun began to set and the mosquitos started coming out.  We had to go in.  Together we gathered up all our stuff, dumped out the sand and took it to the kitchen.  As I was putting stuff in the dishwasher she gave me a big hug and said in her best proper voice, “Thank you Mrs. Williams for coming to my restaurant and bringing your friend”. 

 

No, Em, thank you for reminding me of the precious gift of being able to spend Mom/girl time.  Not just another day in my sometimes exciting, sometimes dull, always interesting life.

I'm back!

Okay, so I am starting my blog again after a two year hiatus. Why? Because my office mate told me to. Okay, that’s the simple answer. The long answer is the last year, especially, has been overly horrible and I just couldn’t see myself talking about it. The lows, the occasional highs, and the all-encompassing feeling of just drowning in a mud pit. That is what life is about I guess. Even my tag line says it all. My sometimes exciting, sometimes dull, but always interesting life. I guess it’s been more interesting lately than anything. So Laura told me to write about it, so I will. Hopefully with poignancy, humor and a good look on life. Last year at this time my mother had just been diagnosed with stage four cancer, expected only to live for a few weeks. At the same time I was gearing up to climb Pike’s Peak a trip I was really looking forward to, but now had trepidations as to whether I should go. The trip was good and bad and skewed my perspective a great many ways. But it also helped me process my mother’s impending death. Being exhausted on a mountain can be very freeing. The last trip around the sun also included broken bones, trips to emergency rooms in two different states, Kevin’s dad’s own cancer surgery, three other close relative’s funerals, and my own brush with serious illness. There were also ice storms, tornadoes, the threat of sequestration, and drought if you really want to get down to it. But there were also wonderful moments. Watching someone pass from this world to the next is a beautiful experience, though heart wrenching. Making it to the top of a 14,000 foot mountain is an accomplishment that I am fully proud of. Christian’s football team made it to the state finals; Emily’s soccer team made it one game more at the end of season tournament. Kevin’s job is taking off like never before and the kids are doing wonderfully at school. My family seems closer than ever. I, on the other hand, just keep churning it out. One day at a time. But isn’t that what life is all about? You take the good with the bad. You write them down and see if anyone is interested in reading about them. So I guess I will take the cathartic approach of writing and say whatever happens to be on my mind. Which right now is the busyness of schedules. Wasn’t summer supposed to slow everything down? I guess that’s what makes it sometimes exciting, sometimes dull, but always interesting. I’m back writing world. We’ll see what tomorrow brings!