One hour

What a difference one hour makes.

At a few minutes after 5pm I was leaving the office, on my way home for the long holiday weekend. I had a slight headache so I decided I was going to go home instead of going to the Wildman’s hockey practice. It would be nice to be home alone for a couple hours.

About 10 minutes into my drive my mother called. She wanted to tell me that her older brother, my beloved Uncle Larry, was having chest pains and they had called the ambulance. She was just starting to tell me what she knew about the situation when she had another call coming in from her younger sister, so she got off the call with me to talk to her, promising to call me right back.

I’m not a patient person, and waiting on this kind of news about a loved one while stuck in rush hour, first day of a holiday weekend traffic isn’t easy. While traffic was stopped I decided to look on Facebook to see if any of my cousins had posted anything. See, while Larry is a very special uncle to a total of 6 of us, he’s also a doting father, grandfather and even great-grandfather to a good sized brood as well as big brother to my mother and her sister. He’s the family patriarch and has been since my grandfather passed away in 1984.

His oldest granddaughter had just posted a note saying “it’s not good” and asking for prayers. I called my mom and she was on the way to the hospital, saying he had suffered cardiac arrest. She told me she’d call when she had more news. That was about 35 minutes after I had left the office.

Once I pulled into the drive at my house I was a mess. I couldn’t hold the tears back. I didn’t want to lose my uncle. This world wouldn’t be the same without him. I kept thinking how he always checks in on my mother, who lives alone, and how much he loves everyone of us. He has another great-grandchild due soon, he can’t miss that. I was texting a friend back home in Ohio who knows my uncle very well, she sat next to him at choir practice at church last night. It is times like this that it is very difficult living 6 hours from our hometown where nearly every single other member of the family still lives.

One hour from the time I walked out of the office building, my mother called me back. We have lost him. It was a short call, as she was understandably very upset and I didn’t even have any words to say. I was glad I wasn’t at the hockey rink when I got the news, but being at home alone wasn’t all that great either. I text messaged a couple of friends and my best friend called me to make sure I was okay.

Am I okay? At this very moment, not really. It’s been about one hour since Mom called and I’ve stopped crying, but I know this empty feeling will last for a while. This is the 3rd time in 4 years I’ve lost a loved one. We lost the matriarch of my mother’s family, my Grandma, in 2009, then 8 months later I lost my other beloved Grandma. That was hard, because I’m going to turn 40 later this year and those were my first major losses since Grandpa died when I was 12. This one isn’t any easier. My heart is broken, not just for myself, but for my mom and her sister, my sweet aunt who has lost her husband of nearly 51 years, my cousins who lost their dad (one of whom just turned 50 years old yesterday), their children who have lost the grandpa who has been there for everything in their lives, and the 3 great-granddaughters who adored him. Then there are the nieces and nephews, our children, his co-workers, church family, and a long list of others who’s lives he’s touched over the years.

One hour. That’s the time it took for a huge hole to be left in many, many lives.

I love you Uncle Larry.

Time to celebrate

This weekend is Kev’s college graduation. Well, his undergrad college graduation. It’s a pretty big deal, considering he’s no spring chicken and he’s been doing the whole working-two-jobs-while-going-to-school-and-being-super dad-at-the-same-time thing for the last 5 years. So a celebration is in order.

My mom got here today, and Kev’s sister and family and his parents will all be here by the time he puts on the cap and gown on Saturday afternoon. Words really can’t express how proud I am of him and of how hard he’s worked to achieve this. But the party on Saturday night isn’t just for him. It’s for him, the Wildman and me, and everyone else who has supported us over the last 5 years. It’s a time for breathing a sigh of relief before we embark on whatever the next step holds for us.

We’ve invited everyone we know to come to the house on Saturday night. There will be much revelry and goofiness, but there will also be thanksgiving and fellowship with those who have understood why we haven’t had much time to socialize for a while. I’m looking forward to a good time.

So to Kev, congratulations. You’ve worked so hard and you really deserve this moment to shine. We love you!

Cleanly inspired

I write my best blog posts in the shower. Well, I don’t “write” them in the shower, which is actually part of the problem. Whilst I’m pampering my skin, exfoliating and moisturizing in all the appropriate areas (or hurriedly running a cheap shower scubby thing over myself which I may or may not have remembered to put shower gel on, which is, you know, the same thing) I often come up with brilliantly clever and witty stories that I’m sure will stop all of my readers in their tracks and make then want to share my words with the world and sing my praises to anyone who will listen. Or perhaps retweet or share it on Facebook. Or even just enjoy a little snicker to themselves while reading.

(Side note – the third sentence in the above paragraph may possibly be the longest sentence I’ve ever written.Ever.)

Anyway, I have these charming tales all laid out in my head during the solitude of my shower. I think about how great it will be when I have a minute to sit down and get the words out for all to read. But then it happens. I know you’re anxiously awaiting to know what it is that could force my mind to lose sight of the creative masterpiece I had recently created, so I won’t keep you in suspense. The “it” that happens is real life. Yes, no sooner than I’ve stepped out of the shower, life starts happening. Usually, it’s the Wildman looking for something, or the dogs need to go out, or I can’t find the mate to the sock I wanted to wear. Once I’ve turned in my towel for real clothes, the day has begun. Lunches are packed, backpacks are filled and out the door we run.

Sometimes, I forget these inspired thoughts altogether. Other times, when I finally get a chance to try and write, the magic is gone and I know it isn’t going to be nearly as good as what I thought of previously. Then there was today, when I had a hilarious post going in my head the entire time I was showering, only to then be distracted by the idea of this blog. Which was even wittier when I was washing my hair.

So the moral of my story is that I need a way to directly transfer my thoughts from my brilliant mind onto the computer screen – or maybe I need a waterproof computer. Does anyone else have this problem –  inspiration at inconvenient times? What do you do? How to you “hold that thought” until you can get it down in type? If there is a secret, I’d love to know. Because otherwise, only my shower scrubby will ever know how masterful my mind truly is.

It’s under control.

the kid can sleep anywhere

Yesterday morning I was rushing around as usual, trying to get the three of us out the door. See, mornings are pretty hectic at our house since all but one day a week we carpool the approximately 23 miles from our house to Wildman’s school, then my office and finally to Kev’s school. Sometimes the order changes based on what time it is when we get to town. It may seem to the outside observer that getting all 3 of us going at once should be easier, but it’s not. And Wednesday mornings seem to be the most hectic because Kev is coming straight home from work, jumping in the shower and then heading out of the house again to go to class. (Hopefully, this is the last week for that.) It’s not unusual for both Wildman and Kevin to sleep on the drive in on Wednesday.

Anyway, back to yesterday. I was in the kitchen making breakfast for all 3 of us, packing a lunch and trying to make sure to remember to take the food I had prepared the night before to the office for a cook-out at noon. I’m not sure where Kev was, although there’s a good chance he was still in the shower. Wildman was taking his dear sweet time getting himself together, and I was telling him what I’m sure were too many things to do, all at once. I looked over at him and yelled, “and will you tie your shoes already! NOW!”

He very calmly and coolly bent over to tie them and said “Relax Mommy, it’s under control.” At that moment I could have gone two ways – gotten more upset with him for not taking the proper sense of urgency I thought was needed at the time, or I could laugh at the wisdom coming from this now 8 yr old young man. I chose to laugh. I looked at him, smiled and said okay. And I started thinking that he really had it right – just because things weren’t happening when I thought they should, they were still happening. It was under control by someone, somewhere.

That thought stayed with me the rest of the day, and is still with me today. Anyone who really knows me can tell you I’m a planner, a stress-er and a worrier. I am also a control freak. Yeah, I admit it. But I also have come to understand, especially recently with how chaotic our lives have become, that I can’t always control everything. And sometimes I just have to let go and believe even the things I’m not controlling can still be under control. Now, do I trust that my second grader is going to manage to get himself ready for school without my prodding and pushing and reminding? Not on your life! But do I have to give him a little space to handle things on his own? Probably. Just like I have to step back, relax, and just let life happen sometimes.

And for the record, we were actually early to Wildman’s school yesterday.

Blog often

I’ve been woefully negligent in posting lately, and I’m sure there’s more than a little irony in the idea that I’m too busy to write my blog about how busy I am. But I while I was searching for what I know is going to be a rockin’ potato salad recipe on one of my favorite blogs, The Pioneer Woman, I came across a blog that the author wrote about blogging. Now, the Wildman and I just love The Pioneer Woman, or PW, or Ree (because that’s actually her name.) We watch her on tv and I read her blog when I get a chance. I love her sense of humor and that she’s not afraid to share her less than perfect moments as well as all the wonderful things she’s successful at. I also love her photography, and being a bit of a photo snob as I am, I don’t always say that. And she has great taste in movies. Wildman wants to go live on the ranch with her and her family, and I think I’d love to hang out and chat with her.

But I’m really off the point now, which was that I came across a great blog entry of hers that deals with writing a blog. #2 on her list is “Blog Often”, which we all know I don’t really do. But I want to. This blog is my way of sharing with my friends, family and anyone else who happens along a little insight into our daily life. Some days it’s kinda boring, but some days it’s wonderfully funny. I want to share that, and share it more often.

So I’m going to be less picky about having the “perfect” story to tell or worrying about having a “long enough” post. I’m just going to get it out there when I can, if I have 10 minutes on my lunch break or hours in the evening (yeah, right, like I’d have hours to work on anything!) I’ll put something down and share it.

I hope you’re all ok with that. 

Ignorance and Confidence

All you need is ignorance and confidence and the success is sure.
Mark Twain

I’ve always thought my husband Kevin is a smart guy. Except when he’s not. But this post is going to be about when he is. When I met him, he was taking pictures at the local dirt race track on the weekends. He was young and good looking and I was young and had always liked photography as a hobby so I started talking to him. I found out he was a professional photographer and worked in a photo lab. (I also found out he drove a cool truck, which I liked a lot, too.)

Fast forward about 10 years and he’s still working in a photo lab, but now it’s a large commercial lab and he’s pretty much a jack-of-all-trades around the place. We’re married and I also work at the lab, and I’m seriously impressed with his knowledge and confidence at work. A co-worker tells him they are looking for instructors for photographic classes at the local community college and after much prodding and reassurance from friends, co-workers and me, he takes the job.

This might not sound like all that big of a deal, but the fact is Kev hated school when he was in it. When he was in his early 20′s he found out he was dyslexic and had spent his life up to that point struggling with a learning disability that left him thinking he was just too stupid to learn. He found photography in high school and it became the love of his life. But the idea of teaching it to others scared him to death, and I can still remember how nervous he was in the very beginning. I also remember the joy he discovered in teaching the subject he loved to his students. He probably wasn’t halfway through the first session before he started talking about wanting to teach more. He was only teaching evening classes in the Community Education department, but he found it incredibly rewarding.

He continued to teach over the next few years, even as we added our son to our family. In the spring of 2007, he began teaching in the Community Ed department of an art college and immediately fell in love with the school, the facilities and most of all the faculty. With the photo industry in a decline and knowing that there won’t always be jobs for lab techs, he decided to take a major leap and enroll at the school to get his Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in order to some day be a full-time college instructor of photography and be able to continue in the field that he loves.

Once again, this probably doesn’t sound like a big deal – people go back to college all the time, right? Sure they do. But Kev was a father to a 3 year old son, worked full-time, has a learning disability and was 40 years old. He hadn’t taken a class in 20 years, and then he had gone to a technical school, not a full-blown college. He was nervous. No, he was scared to death. But with my blessing and support he started school that fall. Even with transferring credits and being given credit for work and life experience, he was only a sophomore when he started. We knew this was going to be a long and winding road, but we decided he was in it for the duration. Because not only would he need to get his BFA, but he would need to have a Master’s degree to teach at the college level.

So here we are almost 5 years later. It certainly has been a long and winding road. Since he enrolled we’ve both lost jobs due to the decline of the economy and had to make some significant changes. Kev took a job working nights in order to be at school during the day, and in addition to attending school he’s worked there for the last few years as well. Our son is now 8 years old and is active in many things, including playing ice hockey. So Kev strapped on skates for the first time when he was 40 years old and is now a certified hockey coach. There are some days when he doesn’t sleep any more than a power-nap here and there for over 30 hours. But he’s never missed an important event of our son’s, he’s been on the Dean’s list at school since he enrolled, and I’m proud to say he’s graduating Cum Laude in a month.

Tomorrow night is his Senior Thesis Exhibition reception. His show is an amazing collection of images he has captured at our son – The Wildman’s – school over the course of the current school year. Again he’s a bundle of nerves and I’m anxiously crossing things off the list to try to make his night as memorable as possible. I want this night to be special for him, because he’s earned it. I’ve never seen someone work so hard and sacrifice so much to real a goal.

Words can’t express the admiration I have for what he’s accomplished. And this is still just the first step. We’re not sure what happens next as we wait to hear from graduate programs, but whatever it is we’ll approach it with the same ignorance and confidence as we did on the first step. I’m sure the success will continue to follow.

Musings of a Perfect Mom

Okay, I want to start by saying that I know I’m not perfect, and I never will be. What I am is a perfectionist. I want to do my best at everything I do, and I expect those around me to do the same. Sounds reasonable, right? Well, I’ve learned over the years that as great as it sounds, being a perfectionist and expecting perfection often leads to more  disappointment than pleasure.

This is especially true when you’re dealing with kids. And I think it’s especially, especially true when you’re dealing with an extremely energetic boy. No matter what I do, he’s not going to be able to sit still for hours, he’s not going to finish his dinner without complaining every night, and he’s not going to remember to use his manners every single time. Does that mean he’s a bad kid? Not at all. It probably means he’s a normal kid.

The part that’s been hardest for me to deal with is the fact that I can’t always make him do what I want, when I want. For someone who wants everything to be just right, that’s a hard one. But I’m starting to realize that as long as he’s behaving when he should and not getting into trouble, I have to let him be a kid as much as possible. He needs to get his “wiggles” out. He needs to be wild sometimes. He needs to be loud and laugh at stupid, silly things. And to be a good mom, I need to do these things with him.

For most of his almost 8 years, his daddy and I have pretty much held the same roles: Daddy’s the fun one, and I’m the serious one. That’s not to say that Daddy doesn’t dole out his share of discipline, because he does. But he’s the one who gets silly with him along with being the hockey coach and the playmate. I’m the one who makes sure homework gets done, chores are completed and teeth are brushed. But right now Kev is working on his senior thesis for college and finishing up his last undergrad semester and he’s pretty busy. I’ve realized that I need to take up for a lack of Daddy time with the Wildman, and try to loosen up and be a little more fun for my boy.

Sounds easy enough, right? Sure…unless you’re just not a loosening up type person. Which I’m not. But I’m trying to be. Just this week the boy and I got into a yelling contest in the car on the way home for the store. He really didn’t expect Mommy to do something like that, and he just laughed and laughed – and that sound did my heart good. My perfectionist nature really didn’t want to be yelling in the car, but knowing we were having fun together made me step back and think about it differently. No harm was being done, so why not?

That’s the way I need to look at things more often. Instead of trying to make him act perfect all the time, I need to let him be a boy and as long as he’s not causing trouble or hurting anything, it’s okay to just let go sometimes. And maybe by doing that, I’ll be able to get him to act more perfect when the situation really does call for it.

So maybe being a perfect mom isn’t so much about having a child that acts calm and just right all the time, but more about being what my son needs in each moment. Sometimes he needs discipline and calm, and sometimes he needs silly and loud. I need to be able to bend when it’s necessary and stay rigid at the right times, too. It’s as much about me as it is about him. I want to be the perfect mom for the Wildman and to do that I have to let go of my ideals and find out what it is that he needs in that moment. That’s how to be the perfect mom, and that’s what I’m going to strive for.

Sleepy pups

These two have lazy down to a science.

Daydream believer

[I've had that song stuck in my head all day so I thought I would share. You're welcome.]

So far this week I’ve been in full-on daydream mode. Every time my mind isn’t occupied with something I have to be working on at that moment it is wandering off to somewhere else. Maybe it’s the grey, dreary weather here in Middle Tennessee that is making me long for a sunny spot. Maybe it’s the chaos and uncertainty in our lives right now that’s drawing me to a calm, relaxing place. Or maybe I’m just bored. Whatever the case, I keep going to the beach in my mind.

Image from www.southeastdiscovery.com

And not just any beach, mind you. It’s going to Holden Beach, NC. This is a lovely, quiet, family-oriented, non-commercial island just south of Wilmington and just north of Myrtle Beach.  We have vacationed there many times with my husband’s family, although it’s been a few years since we were last there. The first time I set eyes on the place I fell in love. There are no hotels or motels on the island, just beach houses, a small grocery store, and a few other little shops and businesses and rental offices. The beach is never full and the sand is soft and clean. As a bonus, the people are friendly and the seafood is delicious.

After our first vacation there, I knew I wanted to live there someday. I’m sure everyone who vacations at the beach thinks that, too, but I’m serious. There is something about the sand and the sea that speaks to me. Watching and hearing the ocean calms me like nothing else. Sitting on a porch with a glass of wine while seeing the sun set on the ocean is just about as close to paradise as I’ve ever experienced. So I’ve decided that one day, somehow, I will live on the ocean.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be Holden Beach, although that is my preference. And I don’t have to have a big fancy house. One the contrary, I think simpler would be better. I love one of the beach houses we rented years ago, the Carolina Sun. This house isn’t right on the beach like my dream house will be, but it has enough room to live in but isn’t so big it would be a hassle. And it is charming. Move this house across the street to the oceanfront, and I’d be sold.

The Carolina Sun, a charming beach home

I’m serious about all this, too. One day I will live where this is my view every afternoon:

I don’t exactly know how I’ll do it yet, but I will. That’s why I’m a daydream believer.

Now off to try to be productive…

Goodnight kisses

Every night on my way to bed I stop in the Wildman’s room. I have to make sure he’s still covered up and that neither he nor his pillows have fallen on the floor. I’ve done this every single night for going on eight years and I can’t go to sleep if I haven’t looked in on my boy first. There have been nights I’ve gotten downstairs, fed the cat and put the dogs in bed, I’m all snuggled up under my quilt with the tv on some random true crime or history channel show and then it hits me – I didn’t check in on the boy. So I have to get out of bed, run upstairs and go look at him.

Yes, I admit, I’m more than a little OCD, and part of it is that my routine isn’t complete if I haven’t checked on him. But more than that it’s because I love to look at him when he’s sleeping. He’s fairly still and quiet and he’s just so precious at that moment. I can tell him I love him and kiss his cheeks without him pulling away. The older he gets, the harder it is to be able to do that during waking hours.

And his waking hours aren’t all joy and sunshine anymore. He can be a little smart-mouth, and he seems to want to push Mommy’s buttons more often than not these days. He and Daddy butt heads, and he already shows signs of the independent, opinionated young man he’ll be before we know it. We know he gets these traits from us, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it from our son, right?

But it is in those precious, sleeping moments every night, I recall how much I love everything about him.

I love those slightly salty, sweaty kisses I give him every night before I go to bed. (He’s sweaty, not me.) I love that he acts just like his daddy – even when they both drive me crazy.

I love that he loves popcorn as much as I do. I love that he loves his dog more than me. I love his sparkling brown eyes and that big dimple that captured my heart from day one. I love that he can’t tell a lie – at least not one that I can’t see right through.

I love that he loves to run and play and be outside in the sun. I love that he skates like the wind and can stop a puck. I love that he’s become a better student. I love that he shares my love of music and reading. I love that he has a sense of humor and his own sense of style. Yes, I love everything about him – even the unlovable parts, like his stinky socks and his dirty ears and underwear on the floor.

And most of all, I love that he’s my son.