"We're all just fragile threads, but what a tapestry we make." – Jerry Ellis

Archive for the ‘home’ Category

In a Room Where It’s Always 4:57

So it's hard to find a clock image with 4:57 on it. I found this cool one courtesy of momastry.com

So it’s hard to find a clock image with 4:57 on it. I found this cool one courtesy of momastry.com

In the music room where Erin takes viola lessons the clock is broken; the second hand bounces without ever moving forward. Even though I know it’s broken—it hasn’t worked since she moved over to that room—I catch myself glancing over at it to check the time. But it’s always 4:57.

Sitting there, listening to her lesson, I think about what it would be like if time could just stop like it does in TV shows and movies. You know the scene where the main character is moving in slowmo, and everyone else just freezes. Some days, I wish I could do exactly that. When I’m feeling overwhelmed and just want to take a breather. In the morning right before the alarm goes off. Or when I’m enjoying a moment, and I want to savor it before it slips into the past. It would just be nice to say, “Hang on Universe, I’ll re-join you in a minute or two”.

The flip side of wanting to have time stop for a moment, is wishing it would already be a certain time. Like when you’re a little kid and you can’t wait for Friday so you can go to your friend’s birthday party. Later on, it becomes wanting to hurry up with high school or college so you can start your “real” life. I remember in college counting down the days to get finished with that last semester so I could get a grown up job. Now, in my grown up life so full of responsibility, I wish I would have savored a bit more of those college days instead of pressing forward so hard to the future.

As a parent, I’ll admit there have been times in my children’s lives that I have had to buckle down and just get through. In the beginning it was cranky babies crying and trying to get them to go to finally go to sleep. New parents stumble through those days, feeling like those nights without enough sleep will never end. People told me those days would go by so fast, but I never really believed them. The elementary school years, filled with those awful required science fair projects and being the homework police—they told me those days would go by fast, too. I started believing they might be right, but still…

And now we’re getting towards the end of summer with one seventh grader, a freshmen and a senior in high school all picking up their schedules and gearing up for another school year. And I wish I had a time machine. Or at least a video that I can rewind of what the heck happened over the past two months because I can’t imagine how it went by so fast. I want to throw us all in a room with a broken clock where it’s going to be Summer 2014 a little while longer.

Yet, there’s a tiny part of me, filled with hope and enthusiasm for the future, that wants to see what happens next—for the kids, for my husband and me. What excitement is just around the corner that if I stopped time right now I’d delay getting to enjoy? So I’m glad I don’t really have a choice in the matter. And we forge ahead.

If I can’t have the broken clock, can I at least have a better memory?

Category:

family, home, kids growing up, motherhood, Personal Essay, Summer, teenagers, Time, Vacation

Tagged with:

The Search is On

college-choice

Our family is in the throes of checking out colleges for next fall. In truth, Darrell and I had wished this whole process would have started a few months ago, but the person at the heart of where to search did not feel it was necessary at that time. Consequently, with early August application timelines just around the corner, we’ve looked at one college so far, with two more scheduled for this week and the next.

We really liked the college we toured a few weeks back. Drury University is a small, private college in Springfield, Missouri. I was surprised that the dorm featured its own bedroom within a four-person suite. The students share the bathroom with just one other person—that’s a better gig than Tyler has at home! Tyler seemed to like the school, but we’re checking out larger schools as well. I don’t think he realizes what a totally different atmosphere there is with a larger, state school. So those are still on our “to do” list in the coming months.

One of the things that’s made this process difficult is the fact that Tyler is just not sure what he wants to pursue for a major. I don’t think that’s so unusual—how many seventeen-year-olds have the life experience to know what they want to do for the next sixty years of their life? Over the past two years we’ve attempted to get across to him that he needs to start thinking about where his skills and interests lie. And while we’re trying to steer him into getting a feel for what classes are really interesting to him and go from there, he seems overwhelmed with the notion that he will be making a decision that will affect him for his entire adult working life.

Ironically, many of his good friends have already graduated from high school and have gone through the process of selecting and attending schools. Some have gone away to colleges, some have gone to the Community College and at least one will be living in a dorm on campus at the local University here. He seems to be waiting to get a great epiphany from how their experiences turn out. Not a bad plan as long as he realizes that he is his own person with unique talents and interests.

My college experience was as close to community college as it gets. I went to the University of Missouri in St. Louis, which, at that time, was only a commuter campus. I went to class full-time and worked part time all four years. I was in a sorority, but other than that, it was pretty much going to class and going home/work. I changed my major from Elementary Education to Communication about halfway through, when I decided I loved kids, but not necessarily their parents. After I graduated, I worked in the student loan industry; a far cry from my major that involved Public Relations, but I did get to use my writing skills on the company newsletter, developing training and commenting on federal regulations and policies. All of the things I did in my first job out of college were not things that I had even really considered as career choices when I was choosing what to major in.

So the search continues and we are learning together how all of this works, from FAFSAs and admission essays to student housing and meal plans. It’s a lot different from Darrell and my college experiences. Mostly, I wish Tyler would realize that he has great potential to do whatever he chooses, and now is the time to see that blank slate stretched out before him—before he has a mortgage. I can only hope that his dad and I can hammer that point home!

Do you remember making these decisions? What motivated you? How did you decide where to go to school and what to study? I’d love to hear your comments!

Category:

college, family, graduation, growing up, home, kids going to college, kids growing up, teenagers

Anniversary Poem

Look how young we were!

Look how young we were!

Twenty-one years ago on July 17, Darrell and I were married after knowing each other for four years. We met in college, where so many love stories begin. I’m biased, I know, but I think we have a romantic, beautiful love story. To mark this happy occasion, I’ve tried to put into words what it’s been like being my husband’s bride. You can laugh at my clumsy attempt at rhyming if you’d like. (Just don’t let me see you doing it.)

 

This love story that we call ours

Could be written in a book.

Joined fates aligned across the stars began

When the seat next to me you took.

 

You started off as just a friend

Parking Lot H conversations lasting hours;

Who knew then the “perfect angle” line you said

Would lead to wedding flowers?

 

The seventeenth came bright and sunny

In a summer plagued by flooding rain.

We joined our hearts as man and wife

With a reception party quite insane.

(Not really, but give me some creative license here.)

 Our Wedding Party

The early years of just us two

Seem so long past I can hardly remember.

Two became three when Tyler arrived

Emily and Erin, our final family members.

 

Our family has fond memories

Of the good times that we’ve had

I never dreamed that guy I fell in love with

Would be such an awesome Dad.

 

You take us all out on the boat

When we go to the lake

It’s fun to see kids fly in the air

With the wild tube rides that they take.

(This stanza was requested by Erin.)

 

As we promised in our vows, we’ve made it through

In times of sickness and in health.

We may not own worldly treasure

But of laughter and love we’ve much wealth.

 

You make me a better me

With your generous and loving ways;

With you I can be who I truly am

Throughout each mood and phase.

 

I’m so glad that in this great big world

I’m the person that you chose.

I mean it when I say you’re my better half

And my love each day for you still grows.

 

002

Happy Anniversary, Darrell

Thank you for making these past 25 years amazing!

Category:

Anniversary, Bride and Groom, family, family history, home, Love, poems, poetry

A Silly Little Ditty Bout Grandma and Her Birds

It’s the Friday before a long weekend, and I’m finding it hard to write anything serious.  This poem is part biographical.  No the birds did not escape and come back, but my mom’s birds are mean and they do poop on everyone and dive-bomb the dogs.  Oh, and they DO sit on their feet.  Grandma’s name has been changed to protect the innocent.

 

These are NOT my mom's actual birds...there's no way they would pose like this.

These are NOT my mom’s actual birds…there’s no way they would pose like this.

 

Grandma Cecil had a lot of birds
When we would visit, you couldn’t hear our words
The birds were so loud, and sometimes they were mean
Especially the one whose feathers were green.

 The birds flapped their feathers
All around the bird cages
Grandma kept them locked up
When they flew into rages.

 They would drown out the TV
And poop on your shirt
They’d dive-bomb the dog
But he never got hurt.

 Then came the day
Grandpa left open the door
“Freedom at last-
We’re behind bars no more!”

 The birds couldn’t believe it,
Up and away they did fly,
They flew past the stars
All the way to the sky.

 They were pooped when they got there
Wanting something to snack,
But once they’d escaped,
There was no looking back.

 How they missed Grandma Cecil!
And those crazy old mutts.
They missed those fine days
When they just sat on their…uh, feet.

 God had mercy upon them.
An angel he sent
But they had to go back now
To be sorry and repent.

 To this day they still talk
‘Bout that day and the flight
But never again
Left the house out of sight.

Category:

family, home, humor, pets, poems, poetry

The End of Ordinary Summer

In truth, life is anything but ordinary while raising kids. There are ordinary seasons in life, of course, (the potty training stages, the pre-school years, the middle school years, etc.) but the seasons string together in such a way that they fool me into believing they are a seamless stretch of time. Sometimes it’s not until something new starts up that I realize that something else has ended, having gone away quietly without a formal goodbye. School is the obvious exception—each year has a definite start and end.

I have school bus-shaped picture frames for Tyler, Emily and Erin that have places for every school year’s photo. In the fall when they return to school and get their yearbook picture taken, I dutifully put in their new photo in their School Years’ frames. Right now as the school year winds down for the kids I’m once again reminded that they are growing up with another grade under their belts.

Except this summer is different. It is the last ordinary summer. Tyler’s picture frame will be full next fall.

One could argue that last summer, the first summer Tyler had his driver’s license and got his first job, was our first non-ordinary summer. After all, it was the first time that we had to consider his employment when we made our annual vacation to the lake. But to me, last summer doesn’t count. His part time job at the golf course didn’t interfere with our family’s plans, and his boss was very accommodating with letting him have time off, so it wasn’t an issue. He was still home sleeping in his bedroom almost every night, like he will be this summer. But he’s a Junior in high school now, so I know that next summer will be different. He will have graduated high school and be preparing to go to college in the fall. Thus, the end of the era and life as we now know it.

For the last fourteen years, every fall began a new school year, whether it be in pre-school, elementary, middle or high school. And while each beginning brought new friends, interests and classes, as expected, there was a continuity with kids being in school in the fall. It’s been our way of life as a family almost as long as we’ve been a family. The kids can’t remember anything else, and life PK (pre-kids) seems so very long ago it’s like it was lived by someone else.

While I don’t mean it to sound so gloomy and melancholy, it does make me stop and think—and appreciate—all this summer as a family will be. I know that I probably am a little overly sentimental about my kids growing up. I thought I’d gotten better than I used to be about it. When they were little I put off going through their closets to weed out outgrown clothing because all I could hear in my head the whole time I did was the song Puff the Magic Dragon. Those too short pants and shirts were a physically tangible sign that my babies were moving on and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I tortured myself with dwelling on that fact—masochistic, I know.

As a parent, I want my kids to grow up to be healthy and independent, so it’s rather hypocritical of me to be sad when they do exactly that. After all, if Tyler was 30 and still lived at home with us I’d be upset then, too. Ironically, Darrell and I have been encouraging him to go away somewhere for college. I lived at home when I went to college, and although I joined a sorority and enjoyed my college days, I never felt like I had the same type of college experience as my friends who went away to school. I want my son to have the opportunity to be semi-independent in the way that only being a college kid away from home allows. But that requires me to accept that he is growing up and is no longer a little kid. And I will, because I never want to hold him back from being the person he was meant to be.

Time with our kids—these short seasons—shouldn’t be taken for granted anyway, but this summer I plan to especially cherish the time we spend together as a family. It may be the last ordinary summer as we now know it, but it can also be the first summer of a new season and a new chapter in our family’s history. Long live summer!

Category:

college, family, graduation, growing up, home, kids going to college, kids growing up, letting go, motherhood, teenagers

Family Sands of Time

In the writing course I’m taking right now, we are encouraged to open ourselves to writing in genres we might not have previously considered. The lesson was on writing for the non-fiction market, which I have never given much thought to doing. I’m much better at coming up with a fictional story with made up people than actually researching a subject enough to become an expert in the field. I love stories about people, their personalities and relationships, so telling a story that happened with some creative embellishments is more my forte. But the assignment got me thinking.

Part of the assignment, if we’d even ever vaguely toyed with the idea of non-fiction, was to share what would we write about it, and what kind of marketing plan we would use for our idea. Lighthearted Dragonfly Readers who know me personally know that I grew up in a family that owned and operated a sand business on the Missouri River, so I started doing the “bubble method” technique of brainstorming to try to come up with enough ideas about sand that would sell a book. Sand alone doesn’t seem that interesting to me, but the story of how my grandfather got into the sand business is. Again, like my blog, it’s not something I could make a living with writing, but the fun I would have! I would love meeting with my uncles and cousins for lunch and recording the family history. We’re not the Busch family of Bitter Brew (thank goodness!) so this would lack the drama of a family tell-all, but what a great heirloom it could be for future generations.

My Grandpa, with only an eighth grade education, had a very good head for business. It was right after World War II and construction in St. Louis was booming. My favorite tale that I remember hearing was about how he borrowed money from my grandmother’s relative. The uncle was very suspicious of banks, so he kept all his money—cash, mind you—in cow manure piles on his property. My grandmother was embarrassed to go to the bank with the cash because it smelled, or so I’m told. From what I know about that relative, he would have his own chapter—he was really a character.

So I have yet another idea bubbling around in my brain that loves churning out ideas, but lacks the time to devote to another unpaid hobby.  (Insert sigh here.) What about you? How do you balance your love of writing or another interest with a limited amount of time and energy? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Category:

balance, family, family history, growing up, home, writing

Bonding and Doctor Who

David Tennant and Matt Smith as the Doctor

David Tennant and Matt Smith as the Doctor

 

Today I was in a blog reading mood and found myself reading a lot of Freshly Pressed material on WordPress. It’s something I only recommend if you have a chunk of time because it’s easy to get lost reading essays and articles with greatly varying topics. It always amazes me to see the polarization of thought on topics that on the surface seem non-controversial. But maybe that’s because I love reading the comments, which tend to be favored by argumentative types.

One of the blogs I was reading had an essay about how Disney, specifically their programming geared towards tweens, was ruining today’s youth. The writer discussed how her daughter started acting like a sassy Disney character and the trouble it caused. It was very well-written, and the comments ranged from the “you’re-absolutely-right” variety to “quit-letting-the-tv-babysit-your-kids” scoldings. Thankfully my kids are beyond the Disney and Nickelodeon show ages, although I have to admit I still laugh at Spongebob cartoons and I liked several of the shows my kids watched when they were younger. (Disclaimer: Some were horrible!)

My family enjoys watching television together, and thanks to Netflix, we breeze through entire seasons in a few weeks. Well, the kids do anyway—while I’m at work they watch episodes without me so I miss too many to know what’s going on after a while. We’ve had the summer of Supernatural, where we all watched Sam and Dean battle Lucifer and all sorts of other demon bad guys. Then there was Lost, where I was literally lost in a few short days because I didn’t get to see several episodes and just gave up. We all enjoy a good laugh together at the antics of Sean and Gus on Psych, Jeremy, Richard and James on Top Gear (the UK version—not the US one) and Darrell and I like getting caught up on Castle episodes. All of these series are mindless fiction, I suppose, but our family has bonded over these silly shows. It’s not a substitute for other family bonding moments, like taking the dogs for a walk in the park or sharing a meal together, but with teenagers you sometimes take what you can get. And I refuse to feel guilty about it.

Emily is in eighth grade and has come into an age where I think I drive her crazy. To be honest, sometimes that feeling is mutual. Not that we don’t get along, we do, but most of the time things I try to talk to her about she tunes out simply because they are coming from me.  Over the past year, Emily has come to love the new (2005) Doctor Who series and basically all things British. Knowing that I probably shouldn’t be wasting any more of my time watching television, I started watching Doctor Who with her, beginning with the first episode with Christopher Eccleston as Doctor Who. It began because I had wanted to see what she was spending so much time and her Amazon gift cards watching. Halfway through David Tennant’s Doctor Who (with a few Matt Smith/Karen Gillan episodes watched out of order) I’ve become a fan in no small part just because Emily loves it so much. My daughter and I have actual conversations about Dalaks, the Tardis and these creepy weeping angel statues.

Do we still have typical teenage girl/Mom arguments and attitudes? Yes, we do. We also have this neutral ground that seems to balance some of the negative. And when it’s just the two of us home for the evening, we’ll have Doctor Who marathons over chocolate chip pancakes. I love listening to her bubble over about something in an episode or some random trivia she’s found about a character. Gone is the moody teen, replaced with the carefree Emily I know is in there still underneath the stress of homework and all things middle school. In the big picture, it’s a small thing, I know. I suppose it would be great to be bonding over world peace instead of something as trivial as a television show. But for now, for just an hour or two, pass the chocolate chip pancakes and the remote. We’ve got a date with the Doctor.

 

Category:

Doctor Who, family, home, teenagers, television

My House Was Clean Yesterday—Sorry You Missed It

I actually have a sign in my laundry room that says that. Don’t get me wrong, I love when my house is clean and in order—I just seem to have a hard time keeping it that way. It’s not because I mind actually cleaning, either, other than there are so many more fun things to do instead.   It’s never bothered me to tackle a dirty toilet or soap-scum filled tub. What bothers me is that no matter how clean my house might be one day, the tendency is to fall back into chaotic disorder the next. Phyllis Diller was quoted as saying, “Cleaning your house while your children are growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.” Yep. Our family is a little apathetic when it comes to clutter. Or at least more tolerant of it than most.

I watched a segment on Dr. Oz he had about clutter and he pointed out the old tried and true rule, “A place for everything and everything in its place.” It sounds so simple, but I feel like my stuff needs a purgatory of some kind. I am a very visual person, and if it’s out of sight I forget about it, so I like having my stuff out where I can see it. It wouldn’t be so bad except we as a family have a lot of stuff. And, it’s usually items we use on a regular basis. (My son and all his shoes comes to mind.)

Consequently my desk has lots of writing books, cool notebooks/journals, tons of pens along with things I am not supposed to forget to do—like bills to pay and field trip permission forms to return. If I “put it away”, it’s a pretty safe bet that it will be gone forever—or at least until it’s past the time I was supposed to take care of it. I’ve tried different systems to keep it to a minimum, like having a special folder for all my ongoing projects, but then I still need to have the folder where I can see it!

But, hey, I know where my stuff is. As does everyone else who visits.

What I’ve learned is that a mess won’t go anywhere.   In fact, it seems to multiply. The kitchen island is a great example. It starts with a piece of mail I want to make sure my husband notices, so I put it on the island. He comes home, eats, doesn’t notice the mail and I forget to tell him about it. It stays on the counter and is joined by a few other “husband pile” items, like safety glasses and an odd screw I found on the kitchen floor that might be important. In the meantime, the kids notice that there’s empty, horizontal surface space on the counter and add their school papers to the mix. It’s amazing how little time it takes for the paper monster to grow.

The worst part of being tolerant of a mess is that most of the people I admire are naturally organized or admittedly OCD about cleanliness. At any given time I could drop by their homes and probably eat off their bathroom floors. They suffer from the inability to leave a mess or aren’t able to sleep knowing there are dishes in the sink that didn’t fit in the load in the dishwasher. They alphabetize their spice racks. There’s no such thing as a junk drawer. I need my junk drawer.

I like to think that my friends and family understand this about me and think it’s one of my cute, quirky characteristics. Or that dog hair dust bunnies are a new trend I’m experimenting with in my décor. Thankfully I do not have to remind them that they shouldn’t attempt eating off my bathroom floors. After all, they’d have to fight with my dogs if they did that. I have to hope that they love me anyway, even if my philosophy on housework is more Erma Bombeck than Martha Stewart.

Category:

family, home, housework