E.T. Phone Home?

Yesterday, something weird happened in my life. It seems to happen more often than I would like, and I’m realizing that I use the word “weird” more often now than I did in the past. But this one . . . well this time, this oddity started me in thinking. My thoughts went from the macabre humor to serious in a matter of minutes. But before I tell you about what happened, I need you to know three things that I believe. I know not everyone will agree, but that is okay by me.

I believe in God.

I believe in Heaven, and that we are all headed there at some point. I’m not the one to judge.

I know that when we die, we will see our loved ones again.

So now that you know that about me, I have to tell you what happened. Yesterday was a dreary, rainy day. It didn’t feel much like the end of May with temperatures in the 50’s and a continuous drizzle of rain. It was the perfect day to get out of the house in jeans and t-shirt, and to meet friends for lunch. The plan was to meet at 11:00, have lunch and then head on out to finish what ever was on our respective to-do lists for the day. It is here that I need to add that I am blessed with some amazing friends from the many facets of life I have had, and I feel I don’t get to spend as much time with all of them that I would like. This means that sometimes, when we do meet, our lunches might run a wee bit longer that we planned. Not surprisingly, yesterday was one of those days. We did indeed meet at 11:00, and left the restaurant after 2:00. After all, I did need to get home in time for the school bus!

Okay, I know, nothing “weird” has happened yet, right? Well here is where my day jumped track . . . I made it home in time for the bus. The children and I walked in the house discussing whether or not it was a good day to have ice cream for a snack. (The verdict here, was no. It was too cold outside). As they moved on to the kitchen I noticed that the home phone was showing we had missed a call. So naturally I checked to see who had called, and whether or not they had left a message. I’m pretty sure you can’t guess who called. Or maybe you can now that I listed what I believe at the top. The name on the caller ID yesterday . . . Chris D. Yep. My husband’s name was right there at the top of the caller ID listed as a missed call. I believe my heart may have skipped a beat when I saw that. I clicked the button on it to show me the number from where he called. It showed our home number. Yes, you did read that correctly. Apparently Chris called from our home phone. My heart skipped a second beat. The time stamp on the call was May 29, at 1:50 pm. Unfortunately there was no message.

My immediate reaction was to continue to hold the phone, walk to the kitchen to check on the girls, and then to call my Mom. Yes, I called my Mom, because this is why we have Moms, to answer some questions that you just can’t fathom at the time. Mom’s know all the answers, right?! (I love you Mom!) As I talked to Mom, and my heart rate slowed down a bit, I did walk throughout the house to check every room and closet. Everything looked like the exact same mess my children had left in the morning. I checked the re-dial feature on all the phones in the house, and not one of them showed as having dialed itself, ever. So now what to think? My youngest suggested that Daddy was calling to talk about his bowling adventure from the night before. I thought that was a fairly reasonable explanation. (See Bowling at Bedtime to clarify).

I will tell you now, there is most likely a perfect explanation as to why my home phone called itself in the middle of the afternoon while I was having lunch with friends and I wasn’t even in the house. I’m sure there is some technical explanation that involves spoofing and scamming and technical explanations that I will tune out as soon as someone tries to explain it to me, because it will make my brain hurt.

But, the whole situation got me thinking: What if? What if there wasn’t a technical explanation? What if there really was a phone call from Chris? What if we all received a call from a loved one who had passed away? What would you say? What would you want to hear? What if you had just one more time to talk? My thoughts on the question have been all over the place in the last 24 hours. Here is just the short list of what I would say/ask . . .

5. Please tell me there is an offshore account somewhere and how to access it. Or can we have the winning lottery numbers? It would be great to continue to be able to volunteer and not have to worry about working. Volunteering is so much more fun.

4. Tell the guardian angels that have been looking out for all of us, thank you. We’ve had a bumpy ride, and I can’t promise it will get any easier with all of us getting older, but we’re doing our best here.

3. Can you look into that big book of “Why” there in Heaven to give me a really good explanation as to why life took this turn? I haven’t been able to come up with any reasonable answers.

2. The children are going to be okay, right? They are pretty amazing, aren’t they?

1. I love you.

Bowling at Bedtime

I love my children. I love snuggling with them. I love reading with them. I love talking with them . . . during daylight hours. Once we get to the time when they should be going to bed, I am done. I admit that putting to children to bed is my least favorite part of the day. So much so, that it was always Chris’ job to get them ready for bed. I figured, I had spent all day with them, and he had spent all day with adults, he should be the lucky one to get them cleaned up and ready for bed. He had an abundant amount of patience for all the requests for one more story, one more snuggle, one more whatever it was they wanted. When I had to be in charge of it, tears would ensue. Usually I was the one who ended up crying and feeling awful as a mom, because really, all I wanted was for them to be quiet and go to sleep.

The good news for me now, is that all of the children are old enough to take their showers, brush their teeth and read their own books. This has cut down a little on the stress. Until there are the nights I go upstairs . . . when they have all been kissed, hugged, and told “lights out,” and when I arrive upstairs the lights are all on, and they are WIDE awake, and it is way past their bedtime. Then the tired, cranky mom rears her ugly head, and yells at them “Why are all the lights on?” “Why are you still awake?” “Why am I tripping over wet towels and dirty clothes?” and other various rhetorical questions. Because really, if they answered me, I would just be more annoyed than I already am.

I have to admit, and I’m not proud of it, tonight was one of those nights. We have had a full week so far of a Girl Scout field trip, a school field trip, dance and baseball. It’s only Wednesday, which means we still have a school violin concert, a school kickball tournament, and a funeral to attend this week. It is one of those weeks where everything is being juggled to get everyone where they need to be, at a certain time. I know everything will work out the way it is supposed to, but it also means that the children need to go to bed and get some sleep mid week. They do still have school to get up for every morning!

So tonight, we had dance for one child and a baseball game for another. (My little one is a trooper who gets shuffled from place to place at times, and does it without complaint!) When the girls and I were finally able to settle in for the baseball game tonight we were treated to an exciting game. It was a close game to the very end, when our team ended with a victory of 15-14. My son was a filthy, muddy, huge grin wearing, talkative teen on the car ride home. Definitely one of the best games of the season, and the excitement and joy from him were palpable. Everyone was in a great mood for the car ride home.

But then . . . we arrived home. It was after 9:00 and it was time for everyone to hit the showers and get ready for bed. It was already well past bedtime for at least two of them. So, there are three of them, and only two showers. Arguments started over who had to shower first, who was going to use which bathroom, don’t use my towel, pick up your dirty clothes, etc. At this point, I don’t care which bathroom you are going to use, JUST. GET. IN. THE. SHOWER. And GO. TO. BED! I admit, my patience was being stretched thin. Finally, everyone was showered. Teeth were all brushed. One still had a bit of homework to do, and was diligently working on it.

It was now 10:00 pm. There was a thunderstorm that had thankfully waited until after the baseball game to hit, that was raging outside. Lightening lit up the skies and their rooms. I headed upstairs for the final kiss good night, and to make sure that they had indeed turned off the lights and gone to bed. When what to my not-very-surprised-eyes should I see? All the lights were on. Everyone was awake. (I thought only one was still awake and working on homework). My patience that had been stretched thin, now snapped. “Seriously people? Why are all the lights still on? Why are you still awake? It is after 10:00 at night and You. Need. Sleep!!!”

I walked into the room of my little one, about to comment about the wet towel on the floor (a pet peeve of mine). When I looked at her, she was holding a stuffed polar bear. It was one I had as a child. She was holding tight to it, and her eyes showed concern. It literally brought me to my knees. I kneeled by the bed. My little one can get worried during thunderstorms. (She’s not as bad as me . . . I hate thunderstorms!) It was reflected in her eyes, that the one happening at the moment was definitely a concern. There was a lightening strike followed closely by the boom of thunder. So I asked her the first question that popped into my mind . . . “Do you think that is Daddy up there bowling? With all the racket he is making, it sounds like he got a strike.” The smile was slow to come, but it did. We had a lively discussion about how God, Daddy and Mr. Campbell are probably up in Heaven together bowling, and GiGi is keeping score for them. But maybe GiGi got tired of all the noise, so now she is probably being creative and sewing. Or maybe she is painting. She did love being creative. Suddenly the storm didn’t seem so bad. The lights could now be turned off. After hugs and kisses, I picked up the wet towel and went to hang it up after I left the room.

I went to the next room. I didn’t even comment on the wet towel in my teen’s room. Instead, I gave him a kiss good night, and listened yet again to how amazing the game had been tonight. The smile and excitement in his voice made it all worth it. My frustration with the fact that my children were not in bed yet at 10:00 at night had ebbed. One more kiss good night, and I picked up the wet towel on my way out of the room to go hang it in the bathroom.

Back downstairs, I made my way over to the one diligently working on homework. There had been quite a bit of frustration over the assignments, and I knew that this one was way beyond tired. It was time to call it a night, and let her know that she could work on it in the morning. Sometimes we all reach a point, where we are being less productive because we are so tired. It wasn’t easy to convince her to stop working. I *might* be raising a slight perfectionist like myself. With a bit of talk, and a funny story from college (you know, the stories her brother and sister have not yet heard) I was able to convince her to go to bed.

So they are all finally in bed. They are all finally asleep. The storm has passed. Both the actual thunderstorm outside, and my internal storm of frustration I had with my children. Talking with my youngest seemed to flip a switch in my mind this evening. I was able to appreciate the moment that I had with each of my children. My mental state is much calmer. So here I am. Feeling compelled to write. It is as I am bringing this to a close that a quote I have read many times today practically smacks me in the head . . .

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou

It is so true. I won’t forget how my children made me feel tonight . . . I was a protector, a friend, and a confidant. Overall, it’s like I’m an okay mom! I can only hope that they felt the love I have for each of them.

Birthdays & Band-Aids

Today I accidentally gave myself a paper cut. Thankfully it’s not huge, but it did require a band-aid (bleeding on the keyboard today was not an option). Which started me in thinking about what amazing little things band-aids are. A bit of cotton and adhesive is really what they are. But it’s what they do that is wonderful. Band-Aids protect a wound. They cover the small wounds such as a paper cut, or the big nasty scrapes kids get on their knees. They keep the wound clean, keep the cut together, and help prevent the wound from getting bigger. Once they have done their job, we take them off and toss them. They have done their job after all. But sometimes, the removing of the band-aid can be painful, even when we know it is past time for it to come off.

The past 18 months of my life have been filled with band-aids. In a manner of speaking, I have covered myself in them. After all, life as we knew it had been torn into pieces, and I needed to find a way to keep it all together. The stakes were much too high not too hold everything together. Some of these band-aids were mental, and others physical. There was one large one that many who came to our home saw, but I’m not sure it was always recognized as a band-aid.

For every birthday in our home, it is tradition to decorate the family room the night before the birthday. Streamers, balloons, and birthday signs . . . you name it, and we had probably used it to decorate at some point! As a child I always loved waking up the morning of my birthday and walking down the hallway, to see all the decorations that were there. Just for me. I remember the first time I did this for Chris on his birthday. He was definitely surprised. The decorating was even more fun when we had children. At that point, it wasn’t just me. The two of us would work together to make sure everything looked special for the birthday child. In October 2012, we had such an evening. I was in charge of the streamers. Chris was in charge of hanging a birthday sign over the entrance that separates the family room from the dining room. The decorations lead to a festive time the next day.

Here is where I have to admit, that for as efficient as we were at getting the decorations in place, we didn’t always take them down right away. The streamers and balloons would basically come down on their own, and would be cleaned up when they did. But birthday signs tend to linger. After all, it’s fun to pretend it’s your birthday a bit longer! Especially when you are a child.

It was 10 days after N’s birthday when Chris passed. The streamers had long since been put away. But the Happy Birthday sign was still hanging where Chris had put it. The week of planning the funeral was a solemn one, and having a Happy Birthday sign was rather mocking. A kind hearted family member, being helpful, tried to take down the sign. I about ripped his head off in yelling at him to leave it alone. Something had come over me, that the sign HAD to stay where it was. I could not explain it. It was just a feeling. Looking at the children, they looked horrified by the idea of the sign being taken down, and relieved when the letter H was put back in place. The sign remained.

As a matter of fact, the sign remained in the same place for exactly 18 months. During this time we had people in and out of our home. Family visited from out of town. Friends came over for wine. Children came over for play dates. Babysitters came over to take care of the children. For 18 months people would ask, “Who is having a birthday?” Each time we always (lamely) explained who had a birthday next. Never mind that there were 6 weeks or even 6 months between birthdays in the home. It was easier to convince someone that I was lazy and didn’t want to take down the sign between birthdays, than to explain, that it was a connection the children and I had with Chris. It was like he had decorated for everyone’s birthdays for the year. It didn’t seem possible that we could ever take down the sign.

But after 18 months, the tape that was holding the sign began to let go. Like the edge of a band-aid that has been worn too long, the H had come loose. It began in the morning. Each time one of us would notice the H hanging down, we put it back in place. After doing this all day, it was unanimously agreed that it was time for the sign to come down. I took a picture of the children under the sign, the H not quite in its original place. It’s a goofy picture, as the children are making silly faces. But I knew then, that this wound had closed. As with any wound, there is always going to be a scar. But in time, scars do fade.

Yes. It was definitely the right time for this band-aid to be taken off.