My mom is leaving in the morning.
My dad has called for her to GET BACK HOME and sadly- he always wins!
We haven't done much this week but it's been great to have her here and she has been excellent back-up during some rough days that everyone needed support. Moms are good for that, right?
So, I'm already seeing signs of sadness in her face and she's dropped "You could just come home with me" hints but I'm reassuring her that it won't be long and that my annual October Fest trip is just around the corner.
Except, no one is feeling festive and October seems a LONG WAY AWAY...
Oh well. I'm not crying because it's over...I'm smiling because it happened.
Right?
(I know you may read this tonight...and-I love you, San. I have thought of no one else today but you. Just thought you'd like to know.)
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
"A mom a day..."
...Keeps the blues away!
Last night my mom showed up at my doorstep and it was just what I needed!
It doesn't matter how old you get-sometimes, you just need your mom.
Last night my mom showed up at my doorstep and it was just what I needed!
It doesn't matter how old you get-sometimes, you just need your mom.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Happy birthday, Di
Happy Birthday, Diane....Yesterday! I didn't forget...I was just pouting about your trip!
This is the second year that I couldn't celebrate with you and I'm not going to tolerate it ANY LONGER!
Are you free September 11, 2007?
Saturday, September 09, 2006
You think YOU have it bad!
(This one is for Sam..)
I was very aggravated the other day with my sons as they were telling me something that I "have" to do for them.
I stated to them in my clear, direct "mother tone" (that I have currently perfected and sound strangely familiar to my own mother...)
"I only have to teach you FOUR things and then I've done the minimal requirements for a parent of little boys (It clearly gets more complicated with teenagers!). I have to teach you about God, how to read, how to swim, and how to ride a bike. Besides the first, I never care if you ever do those things again once you've learned but YOU HAVE TO LEARN...otherwise, I'm a failure and I can't live with that!"
Much dramatic sighing followed.
By all of us.
Sam has recently learned to ride his bike and he hates it. I have to force him out the door and threaten him to ride around the yard several times until I have appeased my own guilt that I am not doing my job as a parent and the nagging concern that my boys aren't normal!
Sam pretty much refuses to ride on the cement road. Although I know that it would be tons easier and that that may be the only chance we have of him learning to like riding, He is terrified of falling and only agrees to ride on grass.
Pathetic.
So...I'm posting this picture that shows the hill that my dad made me ride down the day he took my training wheels off. I remember it vividly because just at the bottom of it...I tumbled over.
As usual, what I anticipated being a mountainous-like incline that was unreasonable for any parent to require of their child on a first bike ride...I found a few weeks ago to be quite subtle and acceptable. Isn't crazy how much smaller things are the older you get?
Suck it up, Sambo! You think YOU have it bad!
I was very aggravated the other day with my sons as they were telling me something that I "have" to do for them.
I stated to them in my clear, direct "mother tone" (that I have currently perfected and sound strangely familiar to my own mother...)
"I only have to teach you FOUR things and then I've done the minimal requirements for a parent of little boys (It clearly gets more complicated with teenagers!). I have to teach you about God, how to read, how to swim, and how to ride a bike. Besides the first, I never care if you ever do those things again once you've learned but YOU HAVE TO LEARN...otherwise, I'm a failure and I can't live with that!"
Much dramatic sighing followed.
By all of us.
Sam has recently learned to ride his bike and he hates it. I have to force him out the door and threaten him to ride around the yard several times until I have appeased my own guilt that I am not doing my job as a parent and the nagging concern that my boys aren't normal!
Sam pretty much refuses to ride on the cement road. Although I know that it would be tons easier and that that may be the only chance we have of him learning to like riding, He is terrified of falling and only agrees to ride on grass.
Pathetic.
So...I'm posting this picture that shows the hill that my dad made me ride down the day he took my training wheels off. I remember it vividly because just at the bottom of it...I tumbled over.
As usual, what I anticipated being a mountainous-like incline that was unreasonable for any parent to require of their child on a first bike ride...I found a few weeks ago to be quite subtle and acceptable. Isn't crazy how much smaller things are the older you get?
Suck it up, Sambo! You think YOU have it bad!
"Let it Go"
I'm freakishly sentimental.
Seriously.
I've struggled to find another person that gets as attached to certain things MORE than I do.
I'm a year away from practically starting life over again (both kids in school all day) and I'm trying to think of a degree or occupation that I could intertwine my sentimentality into for success.
There has to be one, right?
In our last move, I attempted to not just store my "sentimental stuff" boxes but to break them open and get things sorted out. I was shocked at what I had decided to keep through the years.
Ticket stubs and particular candy wrappers....the "Florence Nightingale" candle that San made (or let) me carry for her wedding...letters and pictures and map directions...old, dried up crusty flowers. I even kept tissues that I've cried into in various situations?
What?
I'm a freak. It's official.
I got it all down into one small under the bed box and while that makes me feel better, I wonder to myself, "Is this way of life okay or do I need an adjustment?"
I'd like to think it's a part of my personality that's endearing but I'm afraid...
Freak.
Recently a photographer I met offered to let me come work at his studio. He said after talking to me that it sounded like I saw life in snapshots.
That's fairly true and actually pretty cool...good for me!
I do love to take pictures. I hardly go anywhere without my camera. Even just being out for a basic dinner, I've been known to grab my digital. My friends hate it but they'll appreciate it one day when I'm gone!
This last trip up North, I drove by my childhood home and decided this was the trip that I was going to take some photographs. I got out of the car and walked the familiar sights of my childhood and almost immediately I was flooded with memories from when I was a kid. One "snapshot" after another came popping into my mind as I remembered with every turn, the great life I had as a little girl.
I'm not sure why I'm so captivated with my old house. Other people I know seem to move from their childhood home and never look back. I, on the other hand, get teary when I go down the lane. I miss it. I have a secret plan to move back in a few years and make the owner an offer. The house would probably have to come down for the most part, but to be able to live on the same property would be awesome!
One of my favorite memories happened a few years ago. My sisters and I showed up at our old house on Christmas Day and asked the owners if we could bother them to let us walk through the house! You see, that's just my sisters enabling my sentimental sickness! We actually intruded on Christmas Day!!
This past month, I was shameful all over again. I completely trespassed onto the property without permission and made my way all around the house, taking pictures and peaking in windows.
I need help...really.
So, the following blogs are for my sisters and parents along with my boys. I want to tell you a few of the memories that came to me as I snuck around the property.
I realize that my obsessional personality can be disturbing and concerning but it can also mean that once I love something, I'm hard pressed to let it go.
And I'm okay with that!
Seriously.
I've struggled to find another person that gets as attached to certain things MORE than I do.
I'm a year away from practically starting life over again (both kids in school all day) and I'm trying to think of a degree or occupation that I could intertwine my sentimentality into for success.
There has to be one, right?
In our last move, I attempted to not just store my "sentimental stuff" boxes but to break them open and get things sorted out. I was shocked at what I had decided to keep through the years.
Ticket stubs and particular candy wrappers....the "Florence Nightingale" candle that San made (or let) me carry for her wedding...letters and pictures and map directions...old, dried up crusty flowers. I even kept tissues that I've cried into in various situations?
What?
I'm a freak. It's official.
I got it all down into one small under the bed box and while that makes me feel better, I wonder to myself, "Is this way of life okay or do I need an adjustment?"
I'd like to think it's a part of my personality that's endearing but I'm afraid...
Freak.
Recently a photographer I met offered to let me come work at his studio. He said after talking to me that it sounded like I saw life in snapshots.
That's fairly true and actually pretty cool...good for me!
I do love to take pictures. I hardly go anywhere without my camera. Even just being out for a basic dinner, I've been known to grab my digital. My friends hate it but they'll appreciate it one day when I'm gone!
This last trip up North, I drove by my childhood home and decided this was the trip that I was going to take some photographs. I got out of the car and walked the familiar sights of my childhood and almost immediately I was flooded with memories from when I was a kid. One "snapshot" after another came popping into my mind as I remembered with every turn, the great life I had as a little girl.
I'm not sure why I'm so captivated with my old house. Other people I know seem to move from their childhood home and never look back. I, on the other hand, get teary when I go down the lane. I miss it. I have a secret plan to move back in a few years and make the owner an offer. The house would probably have to come down for the most part, but to be able to live on the same property would be awesome!
One of my favorite memories happened a few years ago. My sisters and I showed up at our old house on Christmas Day and asked the owners if we could bother them to let us walk through the house! You see, that's just my sisters enabling my sentimental sickness! We actually intruded on Christmas Day!!
This past month, I was shameful all over again. I completely trespassed onto the property without permission and made my way all around the house, taking pictures and peaking in windows.
I need help...really.
So, the following blogs are for my sisters and parents along with my boys. I want to tell you a few of the memories that came to me as I snuck around the property.
I realize that my obsessional personality can be disturbing and concerning but it can also mean that once I love something, I'm hard pressed to let it go.
And I'm okay with that!
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