Remembering to Breathe

There are some weeks that when I reach Saturday morning, I think . . . did all of that just really happen? Was that really just one week of my life? Because I am pretty sure that it felt like we fit in a month worth of events into one week. This is one of those Saturday mornings. The children are asleep. A second load of laundry has been started. I’ve already dropped off coffee for the Boy Scout group that is delivering mulch. I finally have a cup of coffee rapidly cooling next to me. It’s a rather contemplative morning, as I sit here and think, what in the sam hell just happened? 

On the short story side, this week has included three dentist, one orthodontist, and four doctor appointments. It has also included one trip to the ER and two ultrasounds. On a positive note, everyone seems to be doing okay!

The week began on a high note. I received an email letting me know that I was selected to be part of a group to help launch a new book by Jen Hatmaker called “For the Love, Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards.” In my free time this week, I began reading it, (admittedly, I haven’t gotten through the entire book yet!) and I’m pretty sure there is some kind of divine intervention for me to be reading this book at this time, and to be part of a bigger group that makes up the launch team. But all of that will have to wait for another post!

The week progressed (is that really the best word for the week?!) from there. Monday, the oldest was in a bit of pain, but insisted all was really okay. Advil seemed to be helping. By Tuesday night the pain had increased, and had spread. Even though we both dreaded it, we knew it was time for a trip to the ER.

This is where my brain wants to a) call my family and friends and tell them how wonderful they are, but it’s too early on a Saturday morning, I will let them sleep. And b) wants me to block images from my mind.

First the family and friends . . . I have to say I am blessed to have the family and friends that I have. I need to tell you all that I appreciate you, love you, and a tremendous thank you. I could not have made it this far in a journey of healing without the support of you all.

So returning to Tuesday night. I had exchanged a couple of text messages with a friend with happy St. Patrick’s Day wishes, when the oldest came downstairs letting me know it was time to go see someone about the pain. I texted back that I needed to go to the ER because of what was happening. Then called another friend to see if they could come stay with the girls. Bless my friend . . . the answer was, let me get some shoes on, and I’ll be right there. It was of course well after 9:00 pm, because  isn’t that always when things go sideways?!

So we made it to the ER without incident, so to speak. The problem, for me, began upon arrival. Mentally I HATE going to the ER. (Doesn’t everyone?!) Especially the one that is closest to our home. Because it was at that ER where I have had some of the most traumatizing events of my life play out. But it is the closest ER to our home, so it is common sense to go to that one. Upon arrival, I started to worry about whether a teenager was considered an adult or could still go to the pediatric side. Thankfully we could still go to the pediatric side. I could avoid the adult side where I last saw Chris. My blood pressure seemed to be headed back to a normal rate.

As we sat waiting for the doctor, my friend texted to make sure that I was doing okay, knowing that a trip to the ER was not easy for me. Bless my friend for being a lifeline on the other end of the texting. Shortly after the doctor came in, it was determined that an ultrasound was needed. This meant we had to head to the radiology department in the hospital.

This meant that we had to walk down the hall through the adult side of the ER.

This meant we had to walk by the room where I last saw Chris.

This meant that we walked past a group of firemen and police officers that were standing outside of that room.

This looked, in my mind, just like the last time I walked by that room.

I thought I might faint.

Thought my heart was going to come out of my chest.

Thought about sitting on the floor, right there in the middle of everything and crying.

But these were not viable options. There was no one to catch me if I fainted (they were all busy). My heart was not really going to pop out of my chest. Crying in the middle of everything would not have solved a damn thing.

Most important, my child needed me. This was not the time for me to wrestle with the demons and images I have carried in my mind for two years. This was a time to make sure my child was okay.

When we made it to the radiology department, I was given a few moments to sit down. The technician was speaking with my child, who I have to say is really an amazing patient. I love the fact that all of my children know how to talk to adults, and let them know what is happening inside their bodies when something is wrong. It was during that moment, as I sat shaking in the chair, because that is my body’s way of coping with stress, that I dumped all my thoughts and feelings into a series of texts to my friend. A lifeline to someone who understands pain and loss, and with the good sense, texted me back, reminding me to close my eyes, and breathe.

I’ve spent a lot of time this week remembering to breathe.

It really can be as simple as that.

To make it through any situation, I just need to remember to breathe.

A "guest blogger"

As many of you know, the children and I occasionally have interesting dinner conversations. Some nights we discuss what was in the news. Tonight that was the depressing news of Boko Haram and ISIS. Other nights we discuss the mundane of what the upcoming schedule for the week is. Those discussions are really just to make sure I know where I am driving everyone and at what times. Then there are the kind of nights, like last week, where I asked the children how their day at school was.

Well, one child in particular was quite excited about their day last week. We heard about the ENTIRE day. But it was when the child got to the part about a quiz that was taken that day that I just knew I was in trouble. The child explained that they just knew they aced the history quiz, because of what they wrote. With excitement I was told the answer written began with “Once upon a time . . . “ and then the rest was told to me. As an adult who can admit that I took school way too seriously, the fact that the answer began with once upon a time shook me to the very core. As the rest of the answer was given, my head fell into my hands, and I just had this feeling the school was going to call me to tell me that my child needs to take school more seriously. In my mind I was definitely losing parenting points. I also wasn’t sure that I fully believed the answer that I was hearing. So I told my child that I wanted to see this quiz when it was returned.

The quiz has made its way home now. Let’s just say, that all teachers deserve a raise. Especially the teachers, that teach my children.

So now my friends, I present to you the question, and the answer that my child (aka my guest blogger) gave as written (I would scan it, but I’ve been fighting with my scanner):

Question:

“When laws are written in any of the 50 state’s constitutions they must follow certain lawmaking process steps. What are the lawmaking steps and why is it important for the states to be specific with the laws and pay very close attention the detail when writing them?”

Answer:

            Once upon a time, there was a bill, and his name was Bill. Now this bill was unhappy, because mothers of bills aren’t very creative with names, so everyone was named Bill. He wanted to be called Law, and the only way to do this was to go through the VA legislature.

            He went to Richmond, where he was introduced first in the House of Delegates, and then at the annual debutantes ball (which offended him, as he wasn’t a girl.) He next went to the committee of obfuscation and delay. It took a very long time to get through, so he gave everyone gifts of gold, frankincense, and crab legs, with the explanation of preventing shoplifting quarterbacks from screwing up your betting. Each of them said thank you, and that it will help them pick up ladies. So naturally, they sent him along into debate into the house, where he doled out more gifts. He was promptly voted upon, and he won!

            The same process repeated in the Senate. After he won again, he was sent to the governor, and the governor took a look at him and said,

            “No!”

            So Bill said, “I’ll bribe you!”

            “I’m not stupid! If I take bribes, competent people punish me, not my fellow delegates!”

            So Bill had to go away, and so he went to Canada, where Bills roam, and some are called Billy, and the hippies are called Bill E. Goat, but mostly, Bill, eh!

                                                The End.

I'm happy this was a short answer response quiz. I wonder what would be written if there was a long answer response quiz? 

Dear Chris . . .

November 3, 2014

Dear Chris,

Well it is once again November 3. It appears this date is going to happen every year, and the weekend that surrounds it, whether or not I am prepared for it. Or for that matter, whether or not I want it to happen. Apparently it is going to hit me like a baseball bat to the gut every year . . . or maybe like a bat to the head. I’m not really sure. I just know it hurts. A hurt that is completely exhausting and mentally draining. One in which my blood pressure has soared, and I need to stay seated lest I pass out. (Seriously. My coworker drove me home Friday so that I wouldn’t pass out while driving. We took my blood pressure at the school, and for me it was quite high.) It’s a pain that has been present all weekend. There has been very little focus in my thoughts all weekend. Finally, my answer on Saturday was to crawl into bed. I slept for almost three hours. It was the middle of the day. When I woke up, it was as if it was two years ago, on that Saturday afternoon, and as the hours ticked by, the timeline of what happened went through my head.  By Saturday night, heart and mind hurting, I collapsed into bed.

I know what you are thinking. But it’s been two years. Shouldn’t it be easier by now? Okay, maybe you aren’t thinking that, but I sure have been. We have made great strides in the last two years, and I have to say I am really proud of the children and I. Last year I was prepared for the first anniversary . . . I ran away. I had an escape plan. We went to Williamsburg, and enjoyed our time together as a family as we shared funny stories about you. This anniversary, I thought we could handle at home. I thought we would be okay. For myself, boy was I wrong. I’m already thinking of an escape plan for next year!

But enough about the last three days of our extended weekend, (teacher work days here) and how miserable I have been to be around. For the sake of our children and for myself, I have to stand up, face the world, and focus on the positive. Easier said than done, but I believe you may have mentioned once, that I was a wee bit stubborn at times. Here’s hoping I put the stubbornness to good use. 

In thinking of ways to force myself to be positive this weekend, I did try shoe shopping with the girls yesterday. Yes retail therapy is completely superficial. Yes, you would think this was torture, but the girls sure didn’t! Okay, it was a bit frustrating for me that they had to try on all the fancy heels, and didn’t want to leave the store, but we were able to get out a few laughs. 

We tried watching a favorite movie, Mary Poppins. All we wanted after that was a spoonful of sugar.

Today, after going to the cemetery, we tried going out for a late lunch at Ford’s Fish Shack. The children started the meal with root beer floats. Guess they did get that spoonful of sugar. There were definitely smiles as they finished their treats.

Tonight, I recalled that I started making a list two years ago. It was a list of things that I was learning to do since 2012. Things that I probably never would have taken the time to learn had you not died. I thought I should share some of it with you.

I learned how to light the pilot light on the hot water heater. It turned out not to be as scary as I had always thought it was. Well that, and the gas company wouldn’t come out to fix it, so it was either I learn how to do it, or we had really cold showers. Seeing as it was December and freezing out, I decided I had better learn.

I learned how to change the toilet seats. I know, completely random. However, it needed to be done. So I thought, if I am changing one in the house, I should probably change all three. Even got the fancy kind, that close slowly. I never knew I would be excited to have new toilet seats!

I built an entire entertainment/bookcase unit for the basement. We had always discussed having built-in bookcases for the wall where the tv was. Well, they aren’t quite built-ins, but they do cover almost the entire wall. Once I had them built, I did ask a neighbor to help secure them to the wall. If we ever move, the bookcases/entertainment center will most likely have to stay.

I’ve learned that our oldest could turn out to be quite the cook. He has taken after you, and likes to experiment with food and flavors. They don’t always work quite the way he would like, but how else would he learn? Cooking takes time and practice.

I’ve learned that our middle one is going to be the baker in the family, as well as the mediator. She makes delicious pancakes, just like you taught her. She has learned how to keep the peace in the house as well between siblings . . . or she is just really good at getting them to do what she wants them to do. It’s a toss up really J

I’ve learned that our youngest is the one who can put into words, what I have been thinking. She may only be 8 in actual years, but her heart and soul are much wiser than that. We can all learn something from her.

I’ve also learned that I have to face my fears, and I have to continue to live. Do you remember that conversation we had years ago? You asked me at what point would I let my fears control my life, and would I ever stop living because of the fear? For awhile, I did want to stop living. I wanted to curl up into a ball, with my babies, and make the nightmare go away. It wasn’t fair that all of this was happening. But I’ve realized, in the last two years, I cannot go back in time. Not to live. I can go back in time to enjoy the memories, and share the stories with anyone who wants to listen. I can know that there will be times when the pain of missing you will be tremendous, and completely paralyzing. But, as you would have told me, to truly live I must continue to move forward.

So here we are. Another year of you being gone has passed. At this exact moment in time, I can say, we are okay. I don’t know what tomorrow or the days after will bring. But today, we are okay. We miss you and we love you, of that I am sure. But we are continuing to live, and continuing to move forward.

I know you would be proud of us.

Until next time I write. . .

Love,

Amy

How to prepare for an interview . . . or not.

So as many of you know, I have been fortunate through the years to be a full time stay at home mom, while working outside of the home part time. Over the years I have held some fascinating jobs that have provided quite a bit of insight into how the world works. But after all these years,  I am finding it time to look for a full time position outside of the home. This is proving to be another learning experience. Which of course, I would like to share with all of you . . .

This is how I prepared for an interview on Thursday. I think everyone who is in the market for a new job should take note of just how well prepared I was!

1.     Get plenty of rest. Most people who know me, know that I am a night person. I am lucky to sleep 5.5 hours on a good night. So after a day of substitute teaching, chauffeuring children to dance and baseball, and then getting a call for an interview, I thought it best if I went to bed early. I was so tired, I was sure to get plenty of sleep. With the alarm set for 6:00 am, I turned off the light at 11:07 pm. I was determined to sleep. I woke up at 4:40 am. Yep, I was ready to go.

2.     Be clear headed, avoid allergy medication. At least that was the plan. However, I woke up with a raging sinus headache. I took some Advil, thinking that would help with the headache part, but keep me lucid. I probably should have taken the allergy medication.

3.     Know what you are going to wear. I had this one nailed! I have the perfect interview outfit, which includes black pants. This means I didn’t need to shave when I showered. Saves plenty of time! I made sure I wore yoga pants and a t-shirt while making a healthy breakfast for my children, to avoid any messes. (It is only the third week of school, so this is still happening. By December, I will toss a box of cereal to them and tell them to enjoy). After going to the bus stop with the youngest, it was time to come home and finish getting ready. Hair, check. Make-up, check. Brush teeth again, check. Put on the perfect pair of pants, check. Oh, wait. My toe just caught on the hem, and tore out the hem to my pants. Where are the back up pair of pants?! Ugh. They are in the wash. No time to sew the hem. I didn’t shave my legs this morning so I can’t go with the skirt. Oh, wait, I found a safety pin! Perfect. Just pin the hem back up, and we are good to go.

4.     Know where you are going for the interview/Leave early. I so have this one nailed. I googled, and printed the directions for the interview. Even put the address in my phone so I would know how to get there, while avoiding the toll road. The allotted time of travel, 20 minutes. The interview was at 9:00, so I left at 8:10. I was definitely going to be early!

5.     Have a back up plan for directions. Traveling along at an excellent rate of speed, I was feeling confident about my journey to the interview. I was at a red light and confirming the directions. I went straight, just as the directions indicated. About 50 yards through the light, I came to the realization as to why I was the only one who went straight when the light turned green. There was a large orange and white barricade, with signage reading “ROAD CLOSED!” Apparently it had been closed a week or two ago, and will be closed for possibly a year or more by the looks of it. Time to find an alternate plan. This is when I was thankful to the powers that be, for a phone that has GPS, and talks to me.

6.     Leave a lasting impression. The interview was taking place at a high school at 9:00 am. At all of the other schools in the county I have visited, buses and cars enter school grounds through a shared entrance(s). However, I now know that following the school bus to this school was not the best option. Apparently there is an entrance for buses, and an entrance for cars. The good news . . . I remembered my rules of the road that my driving teacher my sophomore year of high school taught me. When I see a school bus with its stop sign out, and lights flashing, I need to stop. So there I was, behind four school buses, waiting for the students to finish getting off the bus. I’m sure the gentleman who worked for the school, who approached the car to talk to me is a very nice gentleman. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, and before any sound could be heard from him, I began to apologize! I was incredibly sorry for making a wrong turn, and that I had never been there before. He walked away with a smile. I think. Definitely left a lasting impression!

7.     Be like a Boy Scout, and be prepared for anything. Even vomit. Yes, I finally made it into the correct parking lot, and parked the car. As I stepped out of the car, I narrowly missed stepping in vomit. All the signs were looking favorable for this interview . . .

8.     Arrive early, and be flexible in the schedule. The interview was scheduled for 9:00, and I walked into the office at 8:50. It was then I found out, the folks doing the interview, had a meeting at 9:15. The interview started early, and was finished by 9:15.

9.     Keep a sense of humor. In my mind, I walked away from the interview laughing, with my headache intact. Not sure what the interviewers thought. Sure, I would love to get the job, but I know I wasn’t completely myself Thursday. So I will chalk this up as another new experience . . . and a story that makes me smile.

So tell me . . . how do you prepare for an interview?!

Putting Out Fires

This is for those of you who have not already heard the story in person.

It’s a true story.

It all began with the dog.

Okay, really, it might have started earlier than that . . . like when I decided it was time to redo the basement, and I purchased a new bookcase/entertainment center from Ikea, and so I had to assemble it myself, which meant the basement had to be cleaned first, so there was room to build it, which meant things had to be boxed up, and then I started building it, and it took me almost a week to assemble, because my helpers are 8, 11, and 13, and they argued as to who is going to help me next, and I might have switched the top and bottom pieces, and I might have been frustrated with my children, and I may have been bemoaning the fact that I am not Mary Poppins, cause if I was I could have snapped my fingers and everything would be neat and tidy.

But I digress. I will begin the story with the dog.

I love my dog. Her name is Athena, and she has been an amazing companion for 14 years. But, she is 14 years old, and every once in awhile she has an accident. On a particular Thursday morning this happened. I really blame myself for not getting myself out of bed earlier (it is summer time after all) to let her out. Anyway, she had an accident on the kitchen floor. No big deal. I cleaned up the mess. I even used Clorox wipes for good measure on the soiled area. Well, then it happened again later that afternoon. Again, no big deal, I cleaned up the mess, and we went about day two of building the bookcase.

Along came Friday morning. Still summertime, and I am still trying to sleep in. I was awake by 7:00, as usual, but I didn’t jump out of bed. That is, until I heard Athena pacing downstairs. I didn’t quite make it downstairs in time to get her outside before she had an accident. Ugh. Had to clean up another mess. It was at this point that I decided the entire kitchen floor was due for a scrubbing. The spot cleaning just wasn’t going to cut it. I needed a fully clean kitchen floor.

It was time to utilize my children’s desire to help! I wish I could recall what I fed them that particular week, as they kept asking me how they could help. Now, I know I am biased and think I have great children, but the offer to help with everything doesn’t happen every day. I have to make sure I channel the energy when it appears! So, I put the girls to work on scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Now I know that scrubbing the floor seems like a simple task. Get a mop, some soapy water, and everyone is good to go. However, I do have one child who might be a slight perfectionist. So she decided that the kitchen floor needed to be completely cleared prior to cleaning. This meant the garbage can, the broom, the dust mop, the dust pan, the box of garbage bags, and the two fire extinguishers in the back corner of the kitchen needed to be moved to another room. It makes sense to move it from one corner in the kitchen, to one corner in the dining room. Also included in the move, were the dog’s dishes, and the kitchen rugs. The corner chosen in the dining room, happens to be right next to the entrance to the kitchen. So if a person needed to walk from one room to the other, it became a bit of an obstacle course to get through. Really, I wasn’t going to complain about that since the girls had graciously agreed to clean the kitchen floor. Now their willingness might have also stemmed from the fact, that once you have a kitchen floor covered in warm soapy water, you can skate across it much easier. So cleaning the floor can be fun. All I knew, the kitchen floor was going to be clean, I wasn’t going to have to do it, and I could go back to building the bookcases.

So day three of building the bookcase/entertainment center commences, while the girls are cleaning the kitchen. At some point in the afternoon, I head back upstairs thinking it would be a good time to have lunch. Plus I needed a break from the directions that Ikea provides. The kitchen floor has now been clean for quite some time. However, the girls had not put back all of the items they had taken out of the kitchen. So I walked around and through the obstacle course into the kitchen. It was on the way back out of the kitchen, and avoiding the dog dishes, I missed seeing the box of garbage bags. Now kicking a box of garbage bags really isn’t that big of a deal, but kicking a box of garbage bags that have a fire extinguisher precariously balancing on top of it is. In fact, when the fire extinguisher comes down on your foot, it may come to the attention of your children, that you have an entirely different vocabulary than they are used to hearing.

It was my son’s fortune (or not so much) that he was the first person I saw after having this happen. There may or may not have been steam coming out of my ears when I looked at him, and instructed him to move the blasted fire extinguisher, and everything else that belonged in the kitchen back to the kitchen. Being the fabulous child that he is, he jumped up and ran to do what I told him to do. As I was still muttering curse words under my breath, I turned around to make sure he had followed directions. Instead, I see him holding the handle of the fire extinguisher, but his knees were bent, and he was looking down on the ground. He wasn’t really moving. Now, in my anger at the fire extinguisher, and myself for not seeing it, I could not fathom why he was standing still and looking at the ground. I may have raised my voice, to tell him to just get moving, and get the thing out of my sight.

And that was the last thing I should have done.

Please note here . . . if a child is holding a fire extinguisher by the handle, do not raise your voice at them.

I repeat, do not raise your voice.

Because, what happens when a person raises their voice at another person? That person flinches. Their hands may clinch. And if that person happens to be holding a fire extinguisher by the handle . . .

Yes. Yes, it really did happen. The fire extinguisher really did go off. Thankfully, it did not go on my child. Rather, it was pointed at the corner. Yes, the corner of the dining room. The corner where the garbage can, the broom, the dust mop, the dust pan, the box of garbage bags, and now only one fire extinguisher were sitting. Really, everything that I could possibly want to use to clean up the mess was sitting in that corner.

I won’t bore you with the details of the clean up from the mess. It involved a couple of phone calls to Tyco Fire Protection Products. They are the ones who manufactured the monoammonium phosphate inside the fire extinguisher, and they are a lovely group of people. It also involved a vacuum, a new mop, old cleaning rags, and a lot of baking soda with warm water.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, like I was, why my child was standing still and looking at the ground . . . he had noticed the pin in the fire extinguisher was missing, and he was looking for it. I had not. It was located during the clean up process.

It was then time to go back to building the bookcases . . . wonder why it took me so long to complete that?

So that is just one true story from my summer vacation. How was your summer?

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.