1000 Attaboys!

As self confessed Dr Phil fan, I think sometimes the man just says something brilliant.  On a regular basis he reminds us that "It takes 1000 Attaboys to equal one time when you tell your child they are a jerk."  For some reason the other day I got to thinking that we spend so much time trying to correct our kids that it must outnumber the times we stop to appreciate them.  I decided to take the day and notice what was good about them.  What an amazing experience!

I quickly realized that lately Andy had begun to really care about the rest of the family.  It showed in the many little things he stopped to do, the smiles and jokes that brightened my day and the consideration for others.  I realized he really did not complain when I asked him to take care of chores any more.   When did that happen and how did I not notice?  Maybe I was too busy correcting something else.

Yes, Catie grumbled and forgot to empty the dishwasher, but she also brought home an award winning report card.  Certainly worthy of praise and so instead of just keeping it between us, I posted it on Facebook so everyone could tell her what a good job she does.  Every comment made me smile.

It's a lot more fun to praise, but I do hope she empties the dishwasher today.

Chapter 2

It has been a year since I last posted here.  I sat yesterday reading back over the postings that began in 2006 and am so grateful for this journal of my life.  A high-tech scrapbook of sorts, complete with photos as life happened in the "Nuthouse".  A lot of it was good times, some of it was not.  Either way, it was life as it happened to me.

In March of 2007 we lost our Karen and I notice that my postings were frequent, as I worked my way through the numbing grief.  When it was too painful to speak, there was always the blog.  Joy or sorrow, celebrations and everyday life fill the pages.  A lover of history, it is mine and I wonder if I should print it and put it in a book for some grandchild to read.  Perhaps one of them will be like their grandmother who would be delighted to find such a record.  Regardless, today I realized that it is not time to end it, but to create another chapter.

 Each year in March we all brace ourselves to face the end of the month, not sure whether to stifle the memories or give in to them and mourn.  This year, I knew it was a time for new beginnings.  

Five years is not a magic number or an official ending point for grief.  Somehow in my heart, I knew I had traveled the road of mourning and that it was time to begin Chapter 2.  I can finally look at pictures of Karen and smile, remembering her laughter.  I am ready to take the boxes of memories and create the Scrapbook of all Scrapbooks.  Every time I tried before, it was just too painful.  Now I want to do it.

 I know now it is time to remember Karen's life, rather than her death.  I caught myself the other day giving Catie a lecture about how she should be more like her Mom and told the story about how she took over running the house when I was ill and she was only 15.   She took care of baby Mike, managed to handle Joey, cleaned the house and actually made me homemade chicken soup and baked fresh bread from scratch.  That was Karen at her best!

 I will always answer the question of "How many children do you have?" by saying 5.  When asked for details, I will tell people that one is in heaven.

Tiger Mom

Recently in the news the Battle Hymn of a Tiger Mom, by Amy Chau has caused much controversy. After the first few interviews that discussed Chinese traditional methods of child rearing, I cringed at the thought of such punitive discipline. I could not imagine refusing to allow my little darlings to have friends spend the night, so they could instead practice their instruments or study, long after their homework was finished.
Finally, I had to buy the book. There had to be a reason for so much discussion and just pushing children hard was not enough to generate this much discussion. I cannot put it down. Although the methods are absolutely severe, the reasoning behind it is fascinating and compelling. Amy Chau hit it right on the head when she says that we absolutely teach our children to be disrespectful by allowing them to watch TV shows like "Hannah Montana" where the entertainment is listening to a teen quip sarcastically to her parents as the laugh track plays constantly. It really isn't funny.
Chinese culture teaches respect, both for self and most especially for elderw who have earned it. For a child to converse in a manner that does not show respect is considered a shame unto the family. What an amazing concept! Although, I think it used to be similar in the US a couple of generations ago.
To excell is expected in Chinese culture, yet today our worries are about pushing our children too hard. Chau questions what Americans push their children to do and why. She says that her parent's generation worked very hard to provide and to raise children who were equipped to succeed in the world. She fears raising a child that is "too soft", entitled and unable to do the tough things we all have to face.
Although very wealthy, she made her children do lots of physical labor growing up. She feared she would raise a lazy child who expected things to come too freely. She demanded that they work hard at whatever they chose to do, just to teach hard work. I am not finished with the book yet, but I am starting to see what she is trying to accomplish.
There are many fine young people in this world, but how many struggle into their twenties, still unsure of what they want to do. In Amy Chau's world, this is the luxury of a lazy child. Her thinking seems to be a throwback to the society I grew up in, not the one I raised my children in. I am looking forward to finishing this book, knowing if I was a Tiger Mom, it was a different kind of tiger!

Longing for My Childhood

14 year old girls with freshly scrubbed faces wore simple tennis shoes,  pink or blue pedal pushers and blouses with splashes of 1960's era color.  Pedal pushers were something between shorts and what are now called capri pants and it was funny to look back at them.  Watching a movie set in my childhood,at first made me smile, but soon left me stunned and  a tear ran down my cheek somewhere in the middle of the movie.    I wasn't yet quite sure why.

Those girls, with barrettes and bows in their naturally colored hair,  actually said "Okey Dokey" and "See ya later, Alligator" to their friends and "Yes, Ma'am" to adults. They met a man walking down their road and sat and listened to his tales while drinking from glass bottles of soda pop that he bought them.  He offered them each a cigarette and of course, they had to try it. Coughing away, they tried different poses to be cool and soon tossed them to the ground, stating they had to be home soon for dinner.   While they waited for their mothers to call them for dinner, they read books in the yard, comparing stories.   Video games would not be invented for another 20 years and the black and white TV usually wasn't turned on until the family gathered after dinner.   Instantly, I was back laying under the apple tree in my yard, book in hand with Pat, Susan, Yvonne and Annie.  I learned to embroider with the same girls under the same tree on a summer afternoon.

 It wasn't just another time, it was a very different world.  We said the Pledge of Allegiance as we started each school day.  Blue jeans were not allowed in school and girls wore pretty dresses.   In a world without cell phones, we spent time with the kids on the block, most of it spent outdoors.  We didn't send a text message, but knocked on the door of each friend, stopping to greet mothers in the kitchen.   Just like these girls, we got up in the morning and our day began rouding up friends who spent summer days seeking and inventing adventures.  The girls roamed their grandmother's attics, searching for treasures or creating a mystery to solve.  They played in the woods, building treehouses and forts, just as I did.  My best fort was in the yard, where I could string an extension cord to have electricity to read by in the evenings and begged to spend the night with my friends.

 They rode bicycles, not to go anywhere, but just to be together. I wondered how many miles Pat and I logged as we rode until dark every single night, after the dinner dishes were finished.   They stopped along the way to visit neighbors that they called Mr and Mrs.  and even said "Please" and "Thank you" on a regular basis.  I remembered fondly that I knew the name of every single family on my street and how we greeted everyone as we rode by.   When a fight broke out on the playground, one girl stated loudly "We were raised to be ladies!"  as the others nodded in agreement.   I realized that I was one of those girls.

I watched those girls play freely, without fear, roaming their neighborhoods, not to return until dinner and back out again.    Their mothers couldn't call to check on them and didn't worry either.  They were too busy getting their housework done, visiting the beauty shop and spending afternoons playing cards with their girlfriends.  Every woman in the movie either looked like my mother, neighbor or my aunt.  They wore pretty dresses and ballet flats, changing to high heels to greet their husbands with a cocktail at the door.    They served lunch on pretty plates and took pride in setting a beautiful table.  The clothes looked funny now,but I realized that it was an era of femininity and yet freedom.

I thought about how the Feminists had not yet emerged, yet discontent was relatively low and girls couldn't wait to be called ladies.  It was a time when cleavage and tight clothing was for bad girls and no one wanted to be a bad girl.    It was a time of freedom from expensive name brand clothing and electronic diversion; freedom from  fear  to roam the world and grow up freely smiling at your neighbors.  I realized that my tear was for nostalgia, but even more for a world that my grandchildren would never get to experience and I would wish it for them.

I kept watching the movie, nearly ignoring the story, but immersed in the era.  It seemed so strange to remember a world without a computer,cell phone,.  television, Ipod or video game and I remembered what kids used to do.  I wish for one day of my childhood for my grandchildren.

Start-itis

I have to admit that starting projects is much preferred to finishing them.  My knit basket will rat me out if I don't admit it, as will the kitchen that is currently painted 4 different colors.  When you begin something the excitement is still there and has not yet been killed off by the boredom or physical pain in some cases.  I also love to window shop and do much more looking than buying.  When starting a project, I can shop forever before making a decision.  And then.....sometimes it just doesn't work out.  The kitchen currently has walls sporting 2 shades of blue, gold and beige.  I don't like any of them.  The yellow paint is resting in the can, waiting for another day.  

I am facing that moment where I need to sort my craft room so that I can find what I want to work on next.  I could finish a number of projects, but maybe I will start a new one instead.  I just spent the last hour reading patterns online and stopped by one of my favorite yarn stores today to buy a new pattern....for someday.

Life is too short to commit to anything you don't have to!

Happy Fathers Day

I miss my Dad today.  I miss him every day.  I have written here many times about how he influenced my life.    It has been 20 years since he passed away and yet, I miss him more than ever.  I miss his silly jokes, watching him do the "fishy dance" with my little kids, listening to him tell "Jenny stories" and hearing him say "While you're up, can you get me a beer?"  Yep, I miss it all.

I miss waking up on a Sunday morning and finding out we were headed for a "new adventure".  We never knew what he would do and that was the fun.  We might take a trip to our grandparents' cottages (never planned) or he was just as likely to buy a plane ticket and head for Florida.  No planning, just spur of the moment fun.....always.

I want to drive down Wildwood Street and see him sitting on the porch in his lawn chair, with his dogs Mickey and Jewel beside him.  That is exactly where you could find him from about May to October every evening.  I used to just get in the car and drive over with my 3 little kids whenever I needed a break.  He loved those kids so much that I could pull up and know that they would be occupied and giggling for hours.  I never knew anyone in my life that could and would spend hours on end just talking to children.  It was his favorite pass time.  

Maybe that is why I miss him so much.  He was a father who really talked to me.  He was interested in everything I said and did.  Not just half listening, but really listening.  As we talked,  I learned so much without ever knowing he was teaching me.  I did know one thing and that was that he loved me and would rather be with me than any adult who came by.  

 I read and hear about parents who spend "quality time" with their children.  My Dad spent ALL of his time with us.  Sure, he went to work, but if it was a Saturday and we wanted to go along, he took us.  We knew that meant we would get lunch at the local bar on the way home.  Once we arrived, he didn't go sit with his buddies, but ordered us each a hamburger or hot dog and then sat down and we would play a make-believe game.  My name would be "Joe" and his name would be "Joe".
 We were two buddies, sitting at the bar, talking about our lives.  We would role play forever.  "How's life, Joe?"  he would say...."Pretty good, Joe.  How about you?." I would answer.
 "Do your kids need new shoes?"  he would ask.  "Yeah, they probably do" I would say.  "Well, I know where you can find some extra work to earn that money.  Are you interested?  My rose bushes need to be weeded and I am paying good money."  he would say.  And on it went.....

Now when we got home, I would actually weed those rosebushes and he would pay me.  I was learning about life and never knew it through those make-believe conversations.  No lectures, just talking and using imagination.  How much that man taught me!

He was all about family and he made sure we knew it.  How many times  I heard him say "Family is the most important thing in your life." I cannot count, but he didn't just say it, he lived it.  He had few rules, but one of them was "Never go to bed mad."   So many times I had to hug my brother and apologize for being mad before bedtime, but what a lesson it taught me.

We spent our Sundays with our grandparents most weeks, either having dinners together or in the summers at their cottages.  We played pinochle or just sat and visited.  He enjoyed playing poker with my great-grandmother pictured at the left and she loved to see him coming with the cards and a 6 pack of beer.  Even as a young man, he took the time to play cards with an old lady.  It makes me understand why 2 generations later, my brother and I would go to the Senior Citizen apartment building and play cards with my grandmother.  We learned from him that there were good times to be had with our family.

He is in every childhood memory.  He left me with a longing for his company.  This week is always tough.  His birthday is June 14 (which is flag day and he loved flying the flag on his birthday) and Fathers Day falls the same week.  It is always a week of thinking of Dad more than ever.

Once we grow up, we sometimes forget how to play.  He was a bit like Peter Pan and never forgot how to be a child.  He knew how to play.  When an adult plays, children stop and join in and the fun begins.  Looking through old photos, you find so many silly poses and costumes like the one shown at right with my uncles.  He would do anything for a laugh.

He loved his sisters and mother and was definitely not afraid to boast about them.  He could often be heard saying "I have the most beautiful sisters in the world!"  (He also had the smartest kids, the most beautiful children and the best wife).  How nice life would be if we all learned from him to go ahead and praise our families.

Gordon, Madeline, Kaye, Nana, Mona and Dee  having fun at a birthday party

He always told me, "You only go around once, Pal.  Make it fun!"

I am trying, but I sure wish he was still here to enjoy it with me.  We will have a Fathers Day picnic today in the park and have a great time.  I will stop often and think just how much he would love knowing all of my children and grandchildren.

All Because Two People Fell In Love

39 years ago on June 18, 1971 we were crazy kids and we got married.  We were 17 and 18 and had nothing but an old Mustang and a few hundred dollars between us.  We absolutely didn't care about any of the practical things, the planning or the wedding.  We were in love.

We loved our first apartment and furnished it with hand-me downs.  It was ours and that was all that mattered.  We began to create a home where everyone was welcome.  We could always stretch the Kool Aid and spaghetti to feed a couple more and we did.  We played cards and ate popcorn until the wee hours of the mornings with Debbie and Jim. We worked 2 and 3 jobs and still managed to have time together. We listened to Stairway to Heaven and American Pie on an old stereo and we couldn't have been happier.  

When the first "good job" was paying 5.92 an hour, we were ready to have a baby and make our lives complete.  Soon our beautiful Catherine was born and now we needed a house and a dog.  We paid more for our 2004 Chevrolet than we paid for that first house, but we got the dog,  fenced in the yard, put in a sandbox and soon Karen was born.  By this time, brother Mark had joined our family and we needed  a bigger house. With promotions coming along  (and Joe sometimes working 2nd jobs) we bought the next house and added Joey to the family.  We adored our daughters, but now we finally had a son!  

 This photo was taken in 1979 

In spite of numerous promotions, the economy was taking it's toll and Michigan salaries were not rising, although our family was growing.  We moved to Florida where the jobs were plenty and the pay was wonderful.  The sunshine and beaches were like magic after Michigan's days.  Our life with the National Enquirer had begun.  It was an adventure for 8 years!  We met movie stars, spent our evenings on our boat and had wonderful parties with all our friends.  It was a wonderful time of our lives.

One day we realized with 3 children in school that the opportunities for education were just not as good as we had in Michigan.  All our friends were trying to get their children into private schools and crime was rising in our area.  We soon headed home to Michigan and nestled into small town life in Charlotte in a huge, old house with 5 bedrooms.  We still joke about the need to fill those rooms.

Michael and Andrew soon joined  siblings, who were in Jr High and High School.  It was like the whole family had new pets.  We passed them around and they had a multitude of people loving them.  Nothing was cuter than Mike in a Batman costume, trying to fly or Andy sleeping with his baseball mitt.  Cathy went off to U of M and later the Air Force3, Karen got married and made us grandparents and Joey soon did the same.

This photo was taken in 2006, 27 years later and we had grown to 15 of us.  (Joe was posing everyone, while I photographed.)  I think it is the last photo of us all together.  

We experienced the terrible loss of our Karen along soon after this photo, but we remain a strong and loving family.  We are spread so far away geographically, but we remain in touch daily.  It takes about a minute for Joey and Cat to know what is going on at home.  The internet is fast and nobody keeps a secret in this family.

  We have added beautiful little Soleil to our family and we are now 15 strong again. 

 Tonight, as we sat listening to 1970's music, the memories flooded me.  Most of them were good ones and I remain convinced, the best is yet to come.  

Create!

I never considered myself creative in the least.  During art class in elementary school, I would envy those little girls who could take a crayon and create magic.  I had failed before I began because I didn't trust myself.  My world was not filled with any kind of artistic expression and I had no idea where to begin.

Today I realize that my world is driven by my creative endeavors.  I spend each day making sure to find the time to knit, sew or take photographs.  Somewhere along the way, I stopped caring about what others thought of my work and let it become pleasure.

So, I had better get my "work" done for the day so I can get back to the beautiful part of my life!

Thanks, Dad!

Today was one of those days when I missed my Dad, but was so glad I can still hear his voice whenever I get in trouble.  I was driving home from a relaxing visit to the Knitting Shop when I heard very LOUD bells going off.  I looked down and saw a red light flashing, which said "Engine Overheating".  NOT good.

Instantly, I heard my dad in my head.  Pull over and turn it off!  Ok, that would have been fine except I had chosen to take the "shortcut" home, which included about a 2 mile trip through a bit of Lansing's ghetto.  I always joke about the fact that I don't take that shortcut at night and wouldn't want to break down in that neighborhood.  Today I did.

I don't scare easily, but I admit today I was afraid.  I locked my doors, as a large group of not so friendly looking teen boys approached.  Large groups were clustering in the empty parking lot where I sat.  I just kept hoping that this was not going to end badly.  I called Joe and knew it would take him about 30 minutes to get to me.  It was going to be a long, hot wait as the temperature was about 80 and I had the car sealed up.  Of course, my cell phone had very little remaining battery and I began thinking about what I was going to do if things didn't go well.

We added coolant and started the car.  The temperature gauge began to rise again.  Darn it!  As Joe and I began trying to figure out what the problem was I remembered my dad's advice again.  "If the thermostat has gone bad, turn on the heat".  I flipped the switch and within a few moments the gauge began to drop and quickly returned to normal!  THANKS, DAD!

I drove home, with Joe following, praying but knowing it would be ok.  I called my brother Dave and we chatted for a few minutes about how grateful we were that Dad was so wise.  He always insisted that we take part in every project or repair, always teaching.  I like to think he is smiling tonight, knowing he left a daughter who is very grateful for a Dad who believed girls should learn to take care of themselves.  He taught me well.

I loved listening to my grandmother tell stories more than anything I can remember as a child.    She was so animated and absolutely hilarious when she told them.  She also had a way of making a point that would leave you laughing and I always remember her talking about a radio show where someone had a closet that every time they opened  the door, everything fell out.  So, if she opened a messy closet or drawer, she would always ask, "What is this?  Fibber McGee's closet?"

Well, I have my own Fibber McGee's cupboard.  Actually, I should admit to quite a few of them.  Catie's job is to empty the dishwasher and she insists on cramming everything in and slamming the door.  Now, she knows that SOMEONE (usually me) will open that door and often get hit with a flying dish, pot or pan.  This was what happened this afternoon when I opened the cupboard to cook dinner.

When I ran for the camera, she yelled "Grandma!  If you take a picture I SWEAR I will post a million nasty things on Facebook about you!"

I really wish I could have had a great come-back, because I know Nana would have had a good one!

Cleaning the Pond....YECH!

After a long Michigan winter, my little pond was in sad shape.  Since Joe remarked that his favorite Mexican yard boy was still sleeping at noon, he was heading to the yard to begin the weekend work.  Feeling guilty, I thought maybe I could find something I could do to help without causing too much arm pain.  I really like working a bit around the flowers, but heavy duty yard work in NOT my thing.

Last summer my boys installed a small pond that I love in the corner of the yard.  I sat down and began arranging the little stones and rocks that Joey's black Lab had used to stay amused this winter.  Then I remarked that we really needed to drain and clean the pond.  Joe grabbed the pump and then the stench came!  OH, it was BAD!  Since this was the first year we had done this, we didn't realize how many nasty leaves would be in the bottom or just how bad they would smell!

That little project took a pump, the shop vac, lots of rock removal and we won't mention all the other things in that nasty water.  Let's just say next year we will cover the pond.  By the time we finished we had all sprayed each other with the hose a couple times, had some fun in the sun and the smell was gone.

As Joe weed whipped around the yard, pulled weeds and did the rest of the hard work, I brought out cold drinks and a plate of cheese, nuts and fruit to keep his energy going.  I found a nice chair under a tree.

There Is No Roadmap

As children, there are so may rules.  We are told to drink our milk, go to school and get good grades ("That's your job" my dad used to say.)  There are rules all day about everything and most of us try hard to follow them.   We know that we have to "grow up" and be responsible adults.  That is when it gets confusing.  Suddenly we are thrust into a world of choices.  Apart from the law, we have to start making our own rules.

I have watched my children struggle with the choices, probably far more than I did. I didn't really have many choices or I didn't know about them.  So,  I was quite content to settle into married life and become a mother.  It was a primary calling for me.  Yes, I had dreams of doing other things, but being a mother was my main occupation.  I still think it is a noble calling. 

Fathers today are expected to be much more involved than they were just a generation ago.  I chuckle to myself as I hear mothers complaining about their lack of involvement today.   I remember a blur of being grateful for the moments when my husband would stop to cuddle the infants and play with them.  That was my time to escape for a much needed shower.  I also remember begging for a night off to go ANYWHERE.  Far from lazy, he was often working 2 jobs or working and going to college at night.  He just didn't have the time to commit to diapers or daily care.  

So I just kept moving.  With 3 children in 6 years, I was very, very busy.  I don't remember it any other way.  I loved chaos that was mine.  The only schedules were naptime and bedtime!  Those were the moments of quiet, when I could rest from all the activity those little ones could produce.  Every day at noon, they ate their lunch and if they were not in school yet, they went off to nap.  Aaaaaaaah!  I could have 2 hours of uninterrupted peace!

Years passed and with 2 in high school and 1 in Jr High, life was changing to a new rhythm.  I was working full time, not at a career that fullfilled me, but at a job that helped to pay for music lessons and teenager's car insurance premiums.  Then God decided to surprise us all with a new bundle of joy.  The older kids referred to him as "Ooops!"  I call him Mikey, a child of my heart.  

As I listen to people today who are so very serious about their child planning, I think of how I might have missed out on one of the most wonderful boys ever born, if I had planned.  This delightful baby made everyone smile from the moment he arrived.  It has never stopped.  I used to sit in wonder as he would play for hours on end building make-believe words with his Legos, narrating the stories he was imagining.  Today, I sit in awe as I listen to him play his guitar and fill my soul with his beauty.  

The following year when the kids were talking about "Ooops" having a new brother that they were calling "Oh, Oh!"  I knew they just didn't understand yet that life with a roadmap would be awful for me.  I would have missed out on so much if I followed a roadmap.  That quiet little baby loved to cuddle and he just sat for hours and watched the world go by in all his cuteness.  Who was he?  

Instead of teddy bears, he often preferred to sleep with his baseball mitt.  He would chase any ball and seemed to be filled with joy at the sight of anything that  moved, especially if he could chase it.  How different they are from the moment of birth.  As I watched him grow into a boy who loved to play baseball, wrestled his heart out, recovering from injuries and surgeries, yet returning to the mat, I knew who he was now.  He was a young man born to move, to go places, do things and experience life at it's fullest. 

I am so glad I didn't have a roadmap.  I would have missed all the sideroads that took me to the most beautiful places.

One of my favorite old photos of my guys!

Did Progress Bring Too Many Choices?

I was thinking about my grandmothers' lives yesterday.  While talking with a friend about the beautiful needlework that both of them did and how I value owning those things today, I realized that their lives were far more simple than mine.  Yes, they had to use a wringer washing machine, made their own laundry soap and didn't have microwaves or computers, but they knew exactly what their lives were destined to be.

Here is grandmother Louise Albert teaching my little ones how to bake Christmas cookies.

I spent more time with my paternal grandmother Louise, who was famous for her many skills.  She was a wonderful cook, knit and crocheted beautiful things that were given with love and received with joy.  She took classes and learned to decorate wedding cakes, upholster furniture and was truly in charge of her home, which was always spotless.  She did all that while raising 5 children.  I really think she was happy and content with her life.

She loved to tell the story of the time she got a job to earn Christmas money, packing candy in a factory.  I can't help but think of the I Love Lucy episode, with Lucy and Ethel in the candy factory.  She claimed that my grandfather actually paid the kids NOT to do their chores in an effort to convince her to come back home full time.  He loved having his life with his wife at the helm.  He really appreciated what she did.

Here is great grandmother Anna Snell Knox, grandmother Marie Louise (Weeda), my mom Shirley and brother Ed in about 1949

My maternal grandmother, also enjoyed needlework (crochet, tatting and embroidery) and spent a lot of her time creating beautiful items that still grace my home.  Her life was orderly, with each day planned, including her shopping day when she took the City bus downtown to comb department stores.

They both spent their summers at their cottages, enjoying smaller spaces to keep neat, watching the lake as they knit away and listened to grandchildren play.  I don't think either one of them felt pressure to "be" any more than they were.  They enjoyed their lives.

Today, as I question my value constantly, I wonder why.  I cook and clean, knit and sew, create scrapbooks to document our lives,  have raised more than 5 children and yet I still think I have something else I must do, haven't done enough (or well enough).  I think of all that I "could" have done and haven't.

I think of the dreams I once had to teach and to write.  I think of the goals I probably won't attain.  I am going to work on remembering all the ones I have reached.  They are probably the most important.

Purging

Three years ago when Karen passed away, I began purging possessions.  It began with the need to change the environment, as if to create a new look to my home.  I didn't want to look at a chair and picture her sitting in it, so I got rid of the chair.  I painted new colors, eventually got new furniture and realized the living room looked completely different.

I moved from there to the antiques and sentimental stuff.  Instead of hanging on like most people, those items no longer gave me pleasure to look at.  I knew none of the other children wanted them and I had always been "saving" them for Karen.  She was gone and it was time for them to go too.  Some were carefully packed away and stored, just in case one of the children changed their minds.  The rest went to charity.

Then Catie wanted to try to fill a big bottle with coins to save for a trip to Disney World.  We began saving and got the idea for a garage sale.  It was just the perfect answer for the rest of the clutter.  My rule was simple:  If it went to the garage sale, it didn't come back in the house.  We made a lot of money, cleaned out a lot of junk and it felt good.

As I approach Spring, I am in the mood to do it again.  I am finding that I never missed a thing I got rid of and am ready to see what else can go.  I recently took all my extra yarn to a sale and made money selling it, although it was a credit to buy more yarn.  GROAN!

The junk on the back porch is condensed to a couple boxes that will go into rafters, since it belongs to the kids.  The crawl space was "cleaned" once, but it is going to be attacked again.  I went through my shoes, organized them and found that I had 3 pair of flip flops....and just bought a pair.  I am good for at leas 2 summers now.  Now, if only Joe would let me purge the garage!

COMMUNICATION

I used to read constantly, with at least 3 or 4 books a week finished each week.  Lately, I have gone in spurts.  I am getting very picky about what I read.  With the internet giving me so much available, a book has to reach out and grab me.  I have read 2 of those in the past week.

I love true and fictional history, always coming away having learned something.  Last week's topic was slavery, but this week began with a book about a child with Asperbergers Syndrome.  I wasn't sure I wanted to read it, but the author's name drew me in.  I learned more about myself and others than I did about autism.

As I read about this teen with an IQ of 152, who could not stand unexpected noise or changes in his world, I began to empathize.  He explained how his heart began to race and how filled with anxiety he became.  I feel the same way every time Catie has her friends in the house!    He explained how texture affected his mood and sense of well being.  Is it not the same when I walk into a shop filled with yarn and must fondle  each skein and soak up the colors?  Or is it so different when he must feel order in his life, as I stress about the latest mess left behind?

The more I read, the more I became convinced that I had felt exactly like this boy so many times.  I just have a greater ability to control my response.   All people become uncomfortable about SOME things in their life.  We just all have our own ways of protesting what makes us feel stressed.  I read about autistic children having "meltdowns" when they are overwhelmed and thought about how I deal with those same feelings.  Sometimes I just have to retreat and make all the activity stop for a while to find my inner peace.

Life has become so filled with noise.  We are bombarded with so much stimuli in our lives today.  The media, gives us news traveling the world in real time.  We know so much, that it is at times, too much.  Our senses become overwhelmed.   We are so busy that we are too busy to enjoy silence.  We can't even find silence.

We no longer stop for an idle conversation with a neighbor, but send them an email instead.  The cell phones we carry ring constantly, keeping us from even the peaceful moments while driving or shopping.  I quietly listen to the conversations of my children and grandchildren and realize how different their world is from the one I grew up in.  Is it better?  In many ways, I think not.   They sit in class posting comments to the internet on their Ipods, more involved in their social lives than what is going on in the classroom.  What will they truly take from their high school years?

They come home to cable TV shows that depict lives that for most, they will never experience, where language is foul and there are few boundaries.    I compare it with the shows I grew up with,  like "Father Knows Best" and "Lassie", where normal families lived just like I did.  I watched them with my grandparents and no one worried if the content was going to be shocking.

 We all go to our laptops where the world is waiting and receive instant responses, often from strangers.  I wonder how it will affect their communication skills in real relationships.  I admit to experiencing the "high" of playing video games that seem to reach out and grab you until you realize you have wasted hours of time in search of the thrill of "winning".   However, I didn't win because I am really not playing with anyone but myself.

In my mid fifties, I think back to my grandmother sitting at her kitchen table quietly writing her letters each and every day from her quiet vacation cottage. (Photo at right)  She kept in touch with everyone all summer with an old fashioned letter.  The 2 or 3 TV channels that were available kept her informed of the local news every night after dinner and the rest of the time was spent gazing at the lake, visiting friends and enjoying family.  Her life was so very peaceful.    We have come a long way, but I am not sure it was in the right direction.

Spring Break Is Over

In recent years, Spring break has become very different from when I was a kid.  We just looked forward to a week off school.  It was the very unusual and lucky child who traveled.  College kids planned trips, usually to Florida,  if they could afford them.  Here in Eaton Rapids, it is almost a ritual.  


I listened as each kid talked about where they were going and found many high school students were going on their own.  Parents had booked cruises, extensive vacations and I began to wonder about the supposed "economic crunch" that is reported daily in the media.  Where does this money come from?


If you listen closely, you realize that it is an Income Tax "return" thing.  Tax checks arrive and vacations begin.  All I can think of is how my dear son in law, Paul would cringe at the thought of people allowing the government to do their "saving" for their vacation.  It makes me chuckle.  


I sat and read the postings on Facebook for about 6 weeks prior, as the kids counted down the days and looked at the photos they posted.  Everyone arrived home safe and sound and it is back to the daily grind.  I spent my week happily home with Michael and Catie for company.  Easter dinner was a real treat as we all headed to the local Chinese Buffet.  No cooking for me and the kids loved it.


Mike and I enjoyed a couple of days of going out for breakfast.  You see, we are a perfect match.  Breakfast may be at noon or 1pm and that is an early start to our day.  We really have to start doing it about 12 hours later, as in 1AM.  We would both be raring to go!


Joe and Joey headed for Kansas, complete with the large black Lab that Joey has bonded with.  "Molly" had a spot in the backseat of the Trailblazer, but preferred to ride with her face next to Joe's and paws on his shoulders.  Andy and Christina headed out to Virginia for a week in the mountains. I loved hearing about how they had to go out to a main road for cell phone reception and survived the week without internet.  They came back a bit tanned and looking rested and happy.


Spring break is just what is says....a break from the routine and we enjoyed ours.

Joining the Pack?

"Bye-Bye" is the name Joe calls the remaining puppy.  After Mike took the little male home and named him Chief, the little girl was so lonely.  She just decided to join the pack!  Suddenly she is running behind the rest and blending in like she is going to stay......NOT!   Sunday, she curled up for a rest on Joe's chest and even Frankie decided to cuddle up.  Only Wendy is missing from this photo (she was curled up with Andy). 

 

"Bye-Bye" is awful cute!

Freedom Week

With my income tax mailed and years of filing sitting nicely in an organized file cabinet, I woke each morning this week,  to a sense of freedom.  Gone was the guilt of passing those boxes of papers each day, knowing that I "should do something" with them.  Amazingly, probably 3/4 of it was trash!  As I watched the Trashman take it away on Thursday morning, I felt an evil little smile creep on my face.  GO!  Guilt, be gone!

Ok, there is still work to be done, but at least I know what is left and WHERE it is!  Mikey asked for his birth certificate on Thursday and I was able to walk to the file folder.  That is a miracle in itself that only my children would appreciate.  I didn't get the project finished until Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning was like waking to sunshine, regardless of the weather.  Although the rest of my week was filled doctor appointments, errands and transporting people, I just did not mind.  I as ready to be out of the house for a change.

When I drove to Albion to pick up my tax return that was being checked before mailing, I could not resist going into a little resale shop next door to the accountant.  It was THE absolute best resale shop I have ever entered.  Everything was neat, clean and well displayed and I would defy anyone to leave without a purchase. I sifted through at least 1000 metal cookie cutters to find the perfect ones for Cat and Tate.  At 50 cents each, I found wonderful antique Halloween and Christmas shapes.

On Thursday I wore myself out.  I had an early (for me) appointment in Lansing, had to drop Joey at work and then a later afternoon appointment.  I decided it would be foolish to drive back and forth, so I would spend the day in Lansing.  I thought it would be enjoyable.....WRONG!   After my first appointment, I stopped by my favorite Threadbear, just to visit the people and fondle the yarn.  I read some patterns, chatted and made a small purchase.  I still had 3 hours before my next appointment and the pain in my shoulder radiated down my right arm until I actually thought about laying down in the back seat of my car for a nap.

Maybe lunch would help?  After cruising through the Taco Bell drive-thru, I munched on a taco and drove downtown to Rae's Yarn Boutique in search of a knitting needle that Threadbear was out of.  Rae didn't have the needle either so I spent some of my time reading and chose a pattern, bought a small knitting notebook for notes as I knit and faced the fact that I still had an hour left.  This is when pain becomes darned inconvenient!  I longed for the days when I could shop all day without a care, since 2 yarn shops had me reduced to exhaustion.

What to do?  Threadbear is always my 2nd home!  I headed back, found a nice comfy chair in a quiet corner and got a book.  There I found the rest that I needed to get me through until my next appointment.  How many stores have created such a presence in the community that a patron knows they can just go there to rest?  It made me realize how truly different they are from other businesses and why I drive the 17 miles to shop there.  I know I am always welcome, even if it is just to rest.

On to my appointment and dinner with Joe, finally getting home after 9:30pm.  I have never been so glad to see my recliner, my computer, my knitting basket and my cup of coffee.  Have I become a recluse?  Nope, just a woman in pain.  It made me realize just how much this injury has affected my life.  Maybe it is time to regroup a bit and find ways to enjoy myself, yet get out of the house this spring.

I chose to make a Friday hair appointment and after a cut and color, emerged feeling at least a year younger!  The kids all complimented me as I walked in the door.  That felt nice.  Mikey and his roommates were rooting through the crawl space, in search of 'treasures" and playing with the remaining male puppy, which went home with them.  Make my day!  His name is now "Chief"  and he has a wonderful family.  I am sure he is one happy dog.

Plans for next week?  My "To Do" list will be equal parts of "should do" and "want to do"!

Countdown to April

It is the roar of the lion that we felt as March arrived in 2010, with snow to blizzard levels over this past week.  I have always hated February with a passion and in the past few years, March has now linked itself to my list of time to get through.  February was always dreary and cold, Christmas over, winter has grown old and I admit to being a grouchy soul by February. 

I sit here writing, trying to ignore the obvious, but knowing the post is ridiculous without mentioning that March claims a corner of all our hearts.  We all try to get through the days of March, working hard not to remember it's sadness.  I found a book that my friend Tana gave me on the first anniversary of Karen's passing and realized that I am going to put it out.  It is a "Happy Karen" book, complete with a laughing photo on the cover and intended to record only happy memories.  I will stop and write one as the spirit moves and read the ones that others have left.  What a thoughtful gift it was.

THE TAX MAN COMMETH! 

 Having neglected to file my tax returns on time, during this bad period of my life, I find myself adding tax returns to my list of reasons to hate this time of year.  At first, it didn't seem like much, since I have always been pretty good at numbers, then I woke up.  I always wondered why tax services were packed with people paying others to do this simple stuff.  LOLOL....ROFLMAO!

Now I get it!  If you are filing a simple return, anyone can do it.  If you are itemizing your deductions, you either buy the current tax software or get ready to read and read and read.....then calculate and read some more!  I bought a book on taxes and then returned to the bookstore and bought another one.  The best line of all was "Congress passes tax laws that are so difficult to understand that the IRS employees cannot explain them or interpret them."  True story!

I have learned to dial 1-800-829-1040 in my sleep.  That is the Tax Line Question phone number where employees recite a list of questions for you to answer, then tell you they are either NOT SURE or MAYBE you could claim the deduction.  I am not lying!  My favorite answer to a question regarding a business expense recently was "only if you can get a letter from your employer stating they will FIRE you if you do not have a cell phone."   Ok....I am sure most employers will be willing to write that letter.

I have been accused in the past of having Attention Deficit Disorder.....my family Doc says "If they had discovered it in the 1950's, I am sure you would have been the poster child."  Funny.....until you try to converse with the IRS, calculate and read in the Chin Family Nuthouse! 

Yesterday I reached for migraine meds as I heard a knock on the door.  Frankie, Josie, Rocky, Wendy and Lucy began to bark like the pack of wild dogs they are, the puppies begin to squeal and yip as one of Andy's pack arrives.    The dogs chase the offender down the stairs and I settle back into my numbers as the phone begins to ring.  I can ignore it.  Now, my cell phone rings so I know it is probably Catie.  By the time I find the phone, it has gone to voice mail.  The home phone rings again........Sheesh!  It is Joe wanting to know what is for dinner.  I have a few sarcastic answers. 

Today I got up at 5am, convinced that if I start early I may be able to avoid some of the confusion of the afternoon.  It was a good thing since Catie informed me that she has a half day of school and needs to be picked up at noon....."Oh, I forgot to tell you I am bringing a friend with me."   Of course she is. 

Does anyone have some Adderol or perhaps a padded room?

Starting Knitting Projects

Every day is filled with new patterns that excite me and make me want to run for my needles.  I never have a problem starting projects, but finishing them is another story.  Of course, Christmas deadlines help me to get rid of some of the UFOs (unfinished objects) in my knitting basket.

Rob (my favorite yarn pimp) has been chasing me around with the red "swing coat" lately.  He made me try it on and then made me add a HUGE ball of yarn in the tummy area to show me what Cat would look like pregnant in this gorgeous jacket.  He just happens to be offering a class to make it and reminded me that I have already bought the yarn for another project for Cat (yet not started).