Let it Snow, Let it Snow...Driving Range Slopes

Snow has fallen and the little one begs to build snowmen and sled. Completely natural, complete expected.
What is not natural is the driving range at the golf course becoming the new slopes and the pub being exchanged for a cooler atop the slopes with beer and sparkly water.
What?
Yes, a crew brought in a big, blue cooler filled with drinks and as they sat in their obvious Vail clothes they drank, huffed and puffed pulling their sleds, and drank some more.
Not me, I didn't get to wear any obvious ski clothes from a previous trip...I procrastinated until the last minute before we left so I was pulling any water resistant clothing I could find from Brian's side of the closet. Yes, this 115 pounder was wearing her husband's large, green insulated pants, a blue XL coat, a cream scarf found on the floor no less and an old, probably free stocking cap. Oh, and I can't forget that I didn't even wear my hiking boots...no, crazy here, wore her running shoes. I truly felt like I could be called, "Cousin Eddie's wife!"
To make matters worse, I didn't even purchase a sled. I grabbed a laundry basket and a trash can lid.
The good news is this...No matter how WT I looked and felt, I watched on as the two loves of my life had a complete blast going down the steepest of slopes you will find here in Oklahoma. Laughter and screams and a sweet family who loaned us sleds and more kids for Eden to play with, barreled down the range and into the thick, ever so lovely...snow.
It was an irreplaceable moment for the archives of a memory of a childhood for dear, sweet Eden and a reminder for mom to plan ahead just a tad more.

Beautiful

I am not surprised by receiving flowers from a friend when a loved one passes away or one of my random trips to the hospital. Beauty brings comfort. John Eldridge says so.
What I am surprised by is when I am able to soak up the beauty around me as if I am following the scents at the mall to the food court. An aroma that cannot be ignored, a presence of awesomeness and attraction that must be followed to the source.
I took the trail and it led to a blog without pictures. Why? Because I could not possibly put a physical picture to the beauty of spending a few evenings with friends and watching the beauty of relationships around me as I am a part of something much larger than a title or a company or even a family. I am a part of a beautiful world.
Beauty for me came as I found a baby studying my face and laughing at my laugh. Her warmth in her hug as she tickled my neck with her stubby, little fingers.
The beauty of a man who chooses a card that reiterates every single facet of our relationship and loves me helplessly.
The beauty of family, blood or not, that loves at all times through affection, perfect gifts that reveal the closeness of the relationship and quality time together.
A son reunited with a dad willing to change his life to be near and a part of something much bigger than himself.
Nana, a sixty-three year old woman determined that unconditional love is given to all of her grandchildren, even if step may be in her title.
The beautiful, familiar voice of a loved one expressing joy in your call and memories of your life from remember when...
If you think about it long enough, you'll see it, too.
There are no pictures because they may or may not be beautiful to you.
You know the beauty in your life. You are probably some one's beauty.
And if you are, thank you. Thank you for making our world beautiful.

Imperfect Pictures

After eight years of harassment, Brian and I submitted to the moms asking for a family picture.
As we were freezing and embarrassed at all the snaps of the camera, we realized why we are not "family" portrait material...we actually like the pictures of our candid imperfections.
We may not have ourselves in canvas on our walls, but we've got albums of our life...our real life. Laughter, tears, a few smudge marks across the face from a daughter that mulled you right before the flash...real moments.
So, thankfully, we got a real pro who knows us and gave us a few shots of our real selves and some as peace offerings to brighten the hearts of the moms.

Fast Food Stinks

Mornings are crazy around here. A game of hide-n-seek with school tights or the taste test approach to breakfast. It is all crazy, really.
But usually when you get loaded up in the car there is a sigh of relief because you are out the door and on your way, even if you don't have brushed teeth.
Well, not this morning. I hop in, too late for coffee yet I've been up since 4:30 a.m., that's another blog about random type A behavior, but really, I get in and my car smells like the biggest, stinkiest man just ripped a good one.
Eden and I are both gagging. I look down and there is a couple of Wendy's drinks and a sack of the horrid remains of a really awful mistake I made yesterday.
The memory of rushing to pick up Eden from school and get her fed before, the irony here, I get her to the nutritionist who is addressing her digestive issues.
What is wrong with this picture?
I feel like I am planning a game of Chutes & Ladders in life.
A real low, stinky moment.

"Watch Me!!!"

This weekend revealed a new truth about parenting for me. I realized that I have poorly trained my daughter like Pavlov trained his dog to beg for attention without earning it.
When I was a kid you had to really perfect a performance before you yelled out, "watch me!"
We all knew that there was one shot at a good performance and if you didn't really practice and make it worth your parents time there was a chance you may not get another shot for a long time.
I am not sure if it is the whole modern movement of fragile egos or our obsessive fear of raising kids with poor self-esteem, but I do know this....as Dr. Phil would say, "it's not workin' for us!"
When these kids get older the world and the amazing standards out there are going to chew up these mediocre performances and throw them to the curb, to leave these kids wondering what happened.
This realization has caused me to do a one eighty on what I am praising. I know my child, like you, and know the potential she possesses and because of that, I cannot let her sell her self short for unearned affirmation.
We all want to hear we are great, but the truly great ones become great. They don't throw out a rehearsal and get the same praise for their olympic performance.
If I truly want what is best for my daughter, I will engage in challenging her to practice, study, earn...all that she is and can be and not allow her to lick in the bowl of her own crumbs.

A Thanksgiving to Remember

This was my first year to host Thanksgiving at my house. My first year to make every single dish and be responsible for the memory of the event for my family.
So, of course, I could blog about the fact that I started a small kitchen fire right out of the gate or the pain endured by my two fingers that believed they could pull a pan straight out of the oven.
The planning could be a blog to itself, but that would take away from the ten hours of complete enjoyment and fulfillment of seeing my daughter smile from ear to ear as we enjoyed her famous crust on the pies or the mischievous laugh of my nephew at the dinner table.
Sure, the turkey was an incredible achievement considering I had never even laid eyes on a thermometer, but the biggest achievement was the hours of peace, laughter, and most importantly...thankfulness. It was truly a Thanksgiving worth remembering.

Thankfulness

I am strong believer in having the spirit of thanksgiving.
None of us are guaranteed more than we have today, so it is important to value what you have in the moment.
I am thrilled to see my daughter adopting this truth in her own life. She says thank you a lot and talks openly about her blessings.
This past week, she lost a tooth.
She put the tooth under her pillow.
She woke up to find some cash.
She immediately goes to the stationary cabinet and grabs a piece of paper and a pen and writes this note..."Thank you, tooth fairy, I love you."
She hands me the note and goes back to her room.
Aside from laughing at her acknowledgment that I was the one who put the money under her pillow, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
Brian and I have taught thankfulness and for that I am noticeably, "thankful."

Can I do this?

I have never asked this question more than when I became a mother.
Labor, ouch this hurts...Can I do this?
Sleepless nights with a newborn...Can I do this?
Breastfeeding, 103 fever with the hardest chest ever...Can I do this?
First ER trip with a toddler and head trauma...Can I do this?
Oh, first day of preschool, tears rolling down my face...Can I do this?
First overnight stay with a friend...Can I do this?
The throw up, the homework, the squeezing a kid into dance tights, the long recitals, the endless amount of time coloring, the dress up, the books before bed, the baths, the veggie pushing campaign, the honesty talk, the boy talk, the skinned knees with no skin (yuck!), the tears over the bully at school, the accidental kicks with apologies, the cooking lessons that leave olive oil in the grout, the other messes...the list goes on and on, but leads to the latest one.
Can I really coach her basketball team?
Of course, I am wondering how I got myself in this mess, but even more perplexing is how I get myself into all the crazy messes I have found myself in since this little one was born.
As I am downloading drills and rules from the web, I am smiling at the little girl who always seems to pull me out of comfortable and give me something worth writing about.

Fireside with Parker

College was helpful, but I never remember taking a class on actually enjoying your life while surrounded by things to be afraid of in this world.
These lessons are best learned from less experienced professors, like Professor Parker, my little fireside buddy this weekend.
She taught me more in ten minutes than I have learned in the last year.
First of all, she was fearless around the fire. She knew it was there, she knew how to navigate around it, but she remained respectfully fearless. As she would grab for the marshmallows, she never thought, "what if I am not good enough to roast this marshmallow?" or worse, "I am going to get burned...put down the marshmallow and head for safety on the logs!"
Not Professor Parker. She felt through the leaves and brush for the marshmallow bag and pulled one by one out to see how completely in flames she could get it and laughing as it became a torch in the darkening sky. She was completely relaxed with having no idea if she was going to set the place ablaze. She roasted with confidence.
We should all take a lesson here and learn about the fire around us so that we can eliminate the fear and roast with laughter and a little less caution.
Parker didn't get burned. She didn't even have any ashes on her outfit. Absolutely no trace of any evidence that she had seriously torched a bunch of marshmallows and a stick. She went to bed completely unharmed with the memory of enjoying the bonfire more than the worried adults around her.
A little less worry and a little more fire...thank you, Professor Parker!

The Legacy of Musicians

How many times have you heard, "he/she has a heart for music?"
A lot.
But how many times have you heard, "he/she has a heart for the musician?"
Well, you've heard it here.
Last week I was reminded of my heart for musicians. I've grown up with them. As a little girl I danced around recording studios, packed up vans with speaker equipment and watched my dad drive away from banks angry because they wouldn't take a check from a musician.
My first love was a musician, my dad.
Who else could write a beautifully composed telegram and have the nerve to send it to a high school for a young lady to feel extra special on Valentine's Day?
My love of creative expression and explaining the moments of life came from him and his friends. Poetically they lived in the present. They taught me the beauty of living your life for the moments, not your 401K.
Watching my little girl dance to the same musician, Mark Bruner, as I danced to as a little girl warmed a place in my heart that has been chilled for awhile. My dad has been gone almost three years and I have spent those years lonesome for the joy of music he once brought to my life.
Whether it was picking up his guitar and creating a song on the spot about my toys or crazy cats or just dancing with me to the music on the stereo....he lived in the music with me.
Mark reminded me that even though I am tone deaf and can't play or sing a lick, I owe it to my daughter to bring her the beauty of the freedom in spending time with a beautiful group of people, musicians. It is her legacy.

Favorite Aunt?

There is this little boy that lives in Dallas that has stolen my heart and affirmed that yes, this girly gal, could have raised a boy.
My sister and her son, Cole, came in town last weekend. I hustled back from Kansas to see them. They were worth it!
When you are around a two and half year old all boy...you can't help but get a bit crazy. One of my favorite moments with him was our football wrestling match. He seemed to go from a hut to pinning me down like I was a his size. It started with a hut and ended with a spin, whack, jump and flop. I loved it.
Sure, I have been on Tylenol ever since, but it was fabulous to be a part of his imagination and actually feel like I was being an aunt worthy of a "favorite" title.
I will keep aspiring toward this goal as long as we both shall live.

Crazy Dog, Spider and Horse

Wouldn't be my life, if there wasn't some hysterical moments.
So, last week I kept a pretty busy schedule with Blended Love meetings, Eden's school schedule, my Bible Study class at church....etc., etc., etc. My life motto of living in the moment took a back seat to preparing for the next whatever.
But as usual, my reminder of keeping true to my belief, came in the form of another series of "crazy" moments.
The morning started off with not having my garage door opener and having to use the punch code on the garage. Like most moms, I can come and go about 10 to 20 times in a day, so having a garage door opener is not really a luxury, it is key to my expediency to deliver goods and/or people! Now, this morning I had an additional obstacle...our new neighborhood watch dog...due to my neighbor leaving a bowl of food and water on her front porch. Not suggested.
Well, this guy, I like to call him "Bob" because I call everyone "Bob" until I know their name, doesn't always recognize that I am the owner of my home. So, from time to time he will bark with all of his passion and concern for our block and try to keep me from feeling comfortable entering my home. Having dealt with that for three trips home already, I was extremely tired of trying to convince this security pup that I really paid the mortgage on this house, but this next trip into the house would be memorable for both Bob and me. Because this time, my car came screeching down the street going way faster than I should admit and obviously with a driver in hysterics. Why, you ask? Because this driver just had a spider fall off her eyelash and down her shirt and eventually onto her right hip. I WAS INCONSOLABLE.
As my door flies open with my pants around my ankle hobbling to the code with a barking dog at the driveway edge, I turn and scream, "I live here!"
Bob politely looks at me with a look of, "oh, well, you should have told me earlier."
Now, I have almost completely undressed from the code area to the mudroom and am now finding myself in front of a team of tournament golfers through our back windows. Embarrassing. I can only hope that they are experiencing a glare from the sun and cannot see into our home.
Relieved, yet traumatized, I am forced to re-enter the car, obviously in a new outfit, to pick up my child from school. As I am regaining my sense of calm I look over to our dear, sweet mini-horse farm that brings a smile each time I sit at the stop sign waiting to carry on with my chaos. Almost nostalgic to see these fairytale characters right here in the middle of town. Yet, not this afternoon. The brown one (another Bob) sits legs crossed over his boy parts with his front legs dragging him along for a bit of joy ride without a female horse. Looking right at me, he has no shame. I, however, am horrified. He has no idea that he has just shattered my perception of the mini-horse sweetness. Now replaced with an equivalent to humping dogs.
As I drive away from the scene of such inappropriate behavior, I am reminded that I have been brought back to the "moment" I so desired to return. I sigh and live in the present once again.

OU, Our University

Last night was tragic. The boys had taken their royal seats among the recliners, the food was ever so manly, but the mood changed quickly as our greatest ever quarterback went down. You could hear the nervous slurp of the QT drink, the complete freeze not to glance at the Virginia game...it was that moment in every man's life that they say the profound words, "will the season be ruined?"
They waited patiently through half-time to get to the info that would change the season forever.
Deep breaths followed as the x-ray revealed, "Negative!" Sam Bradford will live to play another college game! Pass another slice of pizza, Saturdays will continue with man farts and loose lips!
OU may have not won the game last night, which is tragic, but they did not lose the ultimate player and for that we can all relax and hope they will become the underdogs of the season....and as always they remain Our University!

Back to School

Well, as I am watching the sun go down, literally, I see the book closing on the last chapter labeled, Summer.
Eden and I spent a lot of time at the pool this year. Some memories are sweet, like watching her learn how to dive, or watching her order her own food and some for others believing it was "free."
Some are not so sweet, like the time I put down toilet paper on the toilet seat forgetting I was soaking wet. It took about five big guffaws for me to recognize what had happened and about five hours to finally get all of that toilet paper off the back of my wet legs. Good news, I don't easily embarrass, so I was over it by dinner.
But now, those long days have passed and it is the classic back to school time. I know, I am currently sharping over 50 pencils with a small sharpener, ironing a uniform and wandering how the alarm clock works, it has been so long.
So, goodbye summer....hello fresh new year with a second grader!

Cancer Fighters

Is making it to your 60th Birthday enough life?
Is making it to your 50th Birthday enough life?
For these two men in my life....I would yell, NO!
My step dad and my cousin are both such a joy to be around that it is almost unbelievable to think they would be fighting for their lives and more time with their families.
For those of you who have been through a loved one battling cancer...you know the fight is as real as going to war. It is a family fight. A fight for sanity, a fight for joy, and ultimately a fight to live.
For those of you that have already lost a loved one and are fighting a new fight with more loved ones...you know the armor gets heavy.
Hang in there. We never give up. No matter how low the white count, the red count, the multiple tests...we believe...we hold out hope for a miracle. Until the fat lady has sung, we believe they will make it. They need to see that in our faces, in our speech, in our willingness to go to bat for them...we believe and carry the torch of hope.

Everything Breaks

It doesn't matter how new... everything breaks.
This morning I pushed my glass in the water dispenser of my refrigerator, obviously expecting water to go in my glass. It didn't. It went all over the side and down the door. Bummer.
It's less than two years old. But it proves a point..."expect broken."
There is no getting out of it. Unless you live for only a few seconds, you will experience broken.
A storm can take down a house in a matter of minutes. A diagnosis can break your heart in just a few words. Houses need repair. Cars lose value and break. People, as much as it hurts us, have bodies that break down.
We live in a broken world that offers absolutely nothing material that can withstand fire.
We live among a broken people that cannot offer hope through their own mortality.
We watch, curiously expecting perfection, but always suffer disappointment.
With a broken heart, a broken refrigerator, a broken pair of heels that I used to love so much, a broken schedule, a broken toy in the toy box....I give you...no hope of permanent repair.
But thankfully, Jesus can give you hope. Not the cheesy, Bible character that is made up with blush on His cheeks, but the warrior. Who breaks for the greater good. Who breaks us and our toys to give us permanent. He is from a dominion that our futile minds cannot comprehend, a dominion of perfection.
100 years from now I will not be concerned with a broken water dispenser. 100 years from now, my heart with be mended, my faith restored to visible truth, complete...simply not broken. And it will never break again.

You're Not Good Enough

If you have lived long enough at some point you have heard the phrase in your head, "you're not good enough." Sometimes it is true, sometimes it is just insecurity coming to the surface. Either way, you're not alone in this thought.
A little girl sits on the bleacher waiting to see if her number will be called after a long road to cheer leading tryouts. Each number called reinforces her thought that she isn't good enough. It doesn't matter how hard she practiced, how much weight she lost, or even how long it took to pick out the outfit with the perfect bow. Girl after girl until she knows she wasn't good enough.
Or the boy waiting patiently for just the right girl to go to the dance with him. He finally gets up the nerve to ask her and she politely lets him know that he isn't good enough for her.
The PhD student that makes it through all of the coursework, but cannot finish the dissertation. This confirms, "you're not good enough."
I could list example after example, some I lived through, others I read about.
But what I can't tell you is what it would feel like to have a doctor or an organization with your health in their hands tell you that you are not good enough for the medical care that would save your life. I do not know what it would feel like to sit in a holding pattern for close to a year taking one chemo treatment after another to stay alive while you wait for Washington to approve your bone marrow transplant and then be told, "you're not good enough."
My heart breaks for the soldiers, young and old, who depend on our tax paying health care to heal the wounds of battle and yet remain broken or unhealed because they have been deemed unworthy or unfit.
We begin life with uncertainty, we hear messages that are discouraging, but most will end life with some form of hope. People who were cheering you on, someone holding your hand. We all know that cancer is not what usually appears on a death certificate, it is a "complication" with treatment. The key to this being that treatment was occurring...hope of surviving it, even if all hope statistically was lost a long time ago.
How does this happen? Why on earth, having all experienced defeat, would we ever reinforce the ugly side of desperation to hopelessness?

Productivity vs. Depression

When my dad was still with us he told me that if I ever got depressed to become very productive and it would get better.
Oh, he knew my heart and genetic make-up.
If he were still here I would tell him that the sad veil that covered my face with his passing was taken off ever so gingerly with productivity.
Then I would send him a picture of my first tomato.....

Sympathy to Empathy

Normally, I would have considered myself pretty empathetic until now.
Have you ever had one of those moments that you realized that you don't know how people feel?
I have had that harsh reality over the last three days in the hospital. The first 18 hours consisted of nausea and dehydration to the point of my hands atrophying. The second part of my stay had some veins blown out and sore ribs from the experience. Aside from a lot of prayer, my mind really captured a new truth...that I didn't know what my dads have been through.
About three years ago, I held my dad's hand as he got ill after a long hospital stay believing I understood his nausea. I knew what it was like to have a virus, but I didn't know what it was like to repeatedly throw up with no relief, that is what he knew. I also witnessed this same scenario with my other dad (TeePa) watching him receive all the anti-nausea meds in his IV, just like me, with absolutely no relief. Both of these men know cancer. I am thankful that I do not.
I do, however, know firsthand what a true Celiac attack is like now. But more importantly, I now know that empathy is earned by experience and it is humbling.

Under the Influence

Last night I ate "fancy nachos!"
This morning I woke up thinking about decorated doors because it is my dear friend, Allison's birthday.
She has probably been one of the strongest influences in my life over the last few years. Not just because she is a smart cookie, but because she is incredibly contagious. If you know her, you know her presence is not missed if she is in a meeting, at an event or over at your house.
On my birthday she heard that I had never experienced the "decorated birthday door," so I look out and see her mom, her daughter and who knows who else out decorating our french doors in the dining room. I don't think I have ever laughed so hard with shock.
Happy Birthday, Allison! I hope your day is as special as you always make it for everyone else!

Faith, Hope & Love

This morning I was reminded of the goodness that often surrounds us and the blessings we receive every single day that we don't even acknowledge.
I had the privilege of having breakfast with my Aunt Laura and her beautiful, four children from Georgia. All of them have such unique personalities, like thumb prints. Watching the compassion and care they have for each other reminded me of the faith, hope and love that we encounter and get used to until we see it demonstrated under extreme conditions and it is obvious.
Both boys in this picture are suffering from Muscular Dystrophy and unfortunately, Chris, the oldest is declining pretty rapidly...why? Age. As children are thrilled to see a birthday drawing near, he understands the ramifications of the actual event. Less time.
As a mom, you would think that facing such mortality this breakfast would have been a real downer, but oh so not true. It was a satisfying experience and a reminder.
Faith, hope and love...the greatest of these being love.
None of us are guaranteed time, but we are all guaranteed love.
Thank you for your love.

Surgeon Mommy

I have some of the best friends on earth. Smart, talented friends with a lot of compassion for this creative soul who always procrastinates when it comes to her medical needs.
One of those friends performed surgery on me while having me lean over her granite with a baby on her hip today. When the stitches proved to be "unfriendly" she decided to lay the baby down so she could use a fine-tip needle, mind you, in the background is a dog barking for her attention, a toddler expressing his excitement, and of course the phone starts ringing.
Considering that she did bone harvesting and numerous other surgeries pre-kids, I was confident in her ability to stay cool under some serious pressure. She proved valiant, and I left with a sterilized area and a sweet band-aid as a reminder of the momentous occasion.
THANK YOU, Surgeon Mommy Christy, for proving that talent lies just below the surface of the spit up stained badge of honor that drapes across your shoulder!

What?

Summer has come with a bit of medical craziness...
A few tears rolled down the ol' cheek when my pizza and cream filled donuts were taken away by a Celiac diagnosis. A few more tears when I had a biopsy for melanoma. And then the flood gates opened when I gave birth to an elf out of my left ear. Yes, while still housing the stitches from the biopsy.
No worries. I haven't completely gone crazy. I just say "what?" a lot. Not to what I am going through because I think that would be theologically wrong considering Job.
I say, "what?" because I still have a clogged ear and I am on my second anti-biotic.
I believe I promised to make this craziness funny, but the only redeeming funny out of this is the words that I continually misinterpret. "Correct" was once blurted out as "erect" which means I have a seven year old wanting to know how to use it in a sentence. Okay, that is kinda funny.

Aunt Mo

Little fat fingers, puppy dog breath, and an occasional random slap or hit are just a few of the sweet reminders that I am "Aunt Mo" to one of the sweetest boys on earth!
This weekend my sister brought her son, Cole, up for the weekend. Cole is a toddler with a lot of spunk and personality which he comes by honestly. Apparently, in our family it is genetic.
So, this weekend I was reminded of the beautiful moments you have with toddlers.
Two fingers crawling up his arm saying, "Mr. Tickles in coming to get you" made him laugh so hard he choked on his spit.
Intense food focus as he paced back and forth at the pool waiting on his french fries..."mine, mine."
And of course, my favorite...rocking a toddler to sleep. As we rocked back and forth watching Elmo drinking some milk, he would turn and snuggle in brief intervals almost as if to submit to his heavy eyes until finally his little, tired voice said, "Aun Mo..you smell pretty..." and his eyes shut for the final time.
What a gift, to be able to be "Aunt Mo."

Ice Cream

Your love is better than ice cream....

better than any thing else that I've tried...

the Journey

Okay, so it looks like June may continue to be a tribute to the awesomeness of fatherhood.
I found this picture from our family trip to Mexico and was reminded of what a special time that was for me as my dad's daughter.
The literal picture here is my dad walking my daughter down a narrow walk way after a long day at the beach and him answering a million three-year old questions.
He was so patient to answer all of them, some silly ones and some not so silly.
Now, this picture symbolizes a journey once taken with a man I was so blessed to call my dad and that he tried to continue with my daughter until he was no longer able.
As the path shows more pavement behind than ahead, I am reminded of how quickly his path ended.
So I re-trace the steps of the journey and attempt to duplicate them in hopes that Eden will not miss out on the journey of creativity, joy, and hope that was given to me.
Doesn't this sound like our relationship with our Father, Creator?
We keep re-tracing the steps of those who have had a journey before us with Him in hopes of not missing out.
I am thankful for the journey...even more thankful that I have not been left without a picture of the journey.

June -- Father's Day Reminders

The month of June always reminds me of how much I miss my dad. The two of us could talk on the phone for hours. If we would have been taped you'd thought it was a philosophy class lecture being prepared.
Some of the most practical advice I ever received was from my dad.
Once when I was in college I got sick of the "institution" and decided I was going to quit and find my own way to be successful. Since he had been a hippie, musician all his life I felt confident I would have his approval on this one, but boy was I wrong. His words still ring in my ears.
"Monica, the world works like this...you either make money "reacting" to other people to pay your way or you provide the "action" to pay your own way. If you quit college you will always be a "reactor," but if you finish your degree you might get the chance to actually create the "action.""
Sure I cried and disagreed at first, but it sunk in and I took the advice.
Now, I am creating the action and thankful for the man who sometimes pointed out things I wasn't always looking for but needed.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Here's to the Crazy Ones!

Webster would say, "crazy, can be an adjective, noun or adverb...meaning mad, insane, impractical."
I would say it is a state of being and should be encouraged...
So, go Brian...traveling through the jungles of Mexico...

I'm Not Dead Yet

Have you ever felt like the saying "age equals wisdom" is a complete farce? Me, too.
I think the wisest people I know are between three and ten.
They are usually fearless, they don't care what people think, they live for the moment, and enjoy food...like all over their face enjoy.
I had the joy of being the ridiculous adult at a friend's 40th Birthday party that did back flips on the trampoline tonight. It was a blast. I talked another friend into jumping with me. We both laughed like kids. Sure, bladder control is not quite the same, we now have limited jumping time, but we did it nonetheless.
I strongly suggest realizing that you are not dead until you are put in the ground or burned. Enjoy. Live. And if you wake up sore the next morning, take Advil, but never be afraid of being the "crazy one."

Little Miss Muffett?

The start of this day makes me want to huddle under the covers and try again tomorrow, but I am a mom so that is not an option.
First of all, I wake up at 3 a.m. this morning with a terrible headache, the kind that makes you start planning your funeral video because it might take you out. So, as I have visually prepared the arrangement of the slides as my Advil is kicking in, my creative imagination runs wild as I truly believe there is a werewolf hunting on the golf course prepared to come through our gallery doors. Planning my scream and run, I decide that I am thirty-five now and need to be an adult and go back to bed.
The alarm chimes around 7 a.m., but my lovely, sleepy head of a husband turns it off.
Frantically, fifteen minutes till we need to leave for Eden's last day of school, I am trying to grind coffee and turn on PBS to bribe the child to wake up while convincing myself it is safe.
We load up...drive like we are on a Harley and make it to school on time with a sigh of relief.
Minus the fact that my daughter let me know that I am always late and that she has a back up plan for such behavior, I am basking in my glow of good parenting for arriving on time.
Until...
I feel this string of something go across my face as I am heading over sixty miles per hour on the expressway. I do the arm brush to see if I can get it off. Not paying much attention, just wanting the tickle on my cheek to go away.
Then...
No imagination needed here, I bring my coffee cup up to get a drink and just happen to glance down and see that I am attempting to drink a spider. Yes, girls, you heard right...a spider.
Now, I am screaming, swerving, feeling betrayed...grabbing across the passenger seat for some tissue paper out of gift that is over a month late to a friend...stuffing the paper in the cup...throwing the cup in the holder...waiting for the offense to make the spider come out and bite me and tell me how cruel I have been to him.
Freaked out and humbly enjoying my second cup of coffee in a clean cup, I can only hope that this day will not continue in this manner and that I in fact will not become Little Miss Muffett ever again!

Congrats, Brian!

Brian received a Best of TCC award on Monday night.
He has come so far since our days at Tulsa Junior College, way back when.
I still remember seeing his jacket hanging off his shoulders as he strutted down the hall rallying troops to play ball. His blond hair standing on end with the help of a bunch of gel and jeans with holes from being so faded and worn.

Lightning Tree

This week Eden and I took a friend to our local Garden Center to meet some of her classmates for a field trip. It was beautiful.
As we were there I saw a tree that had remained strong after a lightning strike. Being the philosopher that I am, thoughts of the meaning of such an event flooded my mind.
When this tree took such an obvious hit, it did not die. Instead, it learned how to compensate for the tragedy and grow bark around the affected area.
Now, as a spectator, I stood amazed at the strength of the tree despite the mark. Reminded of how we, as humans, wear different emotional scars, but become stronger as a result. Our markings may be apparent to some, but hopefully our strength is also.

A Beautiful Reflection

What a wonderful Mother's Day weekend. All weekend I have been on the verge of tears as I have watched my beautiful daughter grow up. Such strong emotion probably comes from the years I was told that I would never have children.
Brian and I went through In Vitro to have Eden and it was truly our last ditch effort before resigning to the fact that we were going to be the family, just us.
The excitement of finding out we were pregnant lasted until our first trip to the hospital with premature labor. The whole pregnancy was like sitting on pins and needles. So many highs and lows with an incredible ending. Eden.
Now, over seven years later I sit amazed at all the talent and beauty God gave our little girl and that I get to be her mom. She has surpassed all of my hopes and continues to grow in character and grace.
To look back over the journey and craziness that comes with motherhood, I look back reminded of the gift of being called, "mom."
Happy Mother's Day!

Connection Cake

I have a really great life.
Sure, I have some moments that bring tears to my eyes, but we all do.
The great thing about my life is that it is connected to so many other people's lives.
Yesterday, I got to be connected with a wonderful person, Sandra, who showed up to Skelly Elementary and helped me donate books and journals to over 200 kids. She has amazed me with her high-level of commitment to Blended Love and her willingness to roll her up sleeves and get busy. Just her presence alone almost brought me to tears. There is truly nothing like sharing an experience with a friend who saw it all firsthand.
I also got to have lunch with my mom at Lucky's, which was awesome, and enjoy the undivided attention only a mom can give.
Then, I had the privilege of being Eden's stage mom and helping her with all of her recital needs for the big dress rehearsal. I actually got teary-eyed again watching her enjoy dancing with her friends. The connection of being the mom is even more rewarding than I had planned when I had kids in theory.
The icing on my connection cake for the day was my dear friend and husband, Brian, who took us to ice cream. His attention is still always a treat and Eden and I love being so wanted.
So, if you are ever taking advice on a tasty dessert, I strongly suggest the connection cake.

The Great Stand Off

I have never realized how incredibly stubborn I am until right this minute.
I am absolutely exhausted. Writing a workbook for teachers, hosting out of town guests, scrambling for Eden's upcoming recital, ect. Yet, I sat here insisting on typing away on my computer because I have asked my hubby to come get me when he is done on his computer.
Well, it is 11:15 p.m. and no trace of him. He's working downstairs and I am upstairs.
You would think after fifteen years of marriage that I would be more mature about this stand off, but I am not. No, I am still the stiff-necked, take it on the chin gal he met years ago.
And to think all this time I perceived myself as the great submissive wife. I might need to reconsider.
I may actually just curl up in a ball up here and go to sleep. Oh, wouldn't he feel bad.
No, he wouldn't. I would just have a horrible pain in my neck and break out from not washing my face.
I am waiting..............................still nothing.
I better grab a pillow.

I've Been Robbed!

Yesterday I was watching Eden, my seven year old, dance around the house singing words that didn't make sense to a melody that was being created as she danced. Such joy, a nonsense kind of jubilation...
Of course, being the philosopher by nature that I am, I pondered where my joy of living had gone. I looked over my Outlook Calendar to see where I had scheduled joy and craziness, but couldn't find it. I did see a small two hour block labeled "Activity with Eden" on Friday, but felt that I had tried to incorporate chores which was a huge mistake.
During this block, she was prancing and I was grudgingly attempting to brush off a ring around the toilet bowl upstairs...then it hit me...literally..toilet water flipped up out of the bowl into my eye and mascara came streaming after...major burn...complete disgust. I would like to tell you that I handled this like an adult, but I would be lying. I screamed in horror spinning the contaminated brush all over the tile and reaching for towels to spread the filth all the more. Yes, I over-reacted in a major way.
Then I realized that I have been robbed. Just a decade ago I would have fell to the floor hysterically over such an event, but now, wearing my "mom" hat I have chosen to believe that laughter is irresponsible. What a tragic loss!
So as I tried to implement my new philosophy of child-like humor, I was tested immediately.
Eden made her first salad while I was upstairs, which simply means, our kitchen was slimmed with tomato seeds as she cut each cherry tomato with a butter knife.
Eden had dinner for 34 Webkinz (stuffed animals) in the playroom, which translates as popcorn and fruit snacks placed ever so not so neatly on a long table with bowls of water.
Eden decided to have a fashion show for herself and changed at least ten times creating a lovely pile of clothes in the middle of her floor.
Oh, and my personal favorite, Eden decided it would be a great time if she could pretend I was housekeeping.
My old self would have yelled at the top of my lungs, "I am housekeeping!!!"
The new me...laughed hysterically, made up my own lyrics and danced half-naked until daddy came home!!!!!
Oh, childish joy, you have returned to me.

Swine Flu & Me

I have a buddy who has playfully been asking for me to write about the comedy of my life.
Yes, I am one of those people who seems to have random chance happen frequently and the irony is that I don't even believe in random chance, which makes it all the funnier.
The tipping point for me to share this adventure is the swine flu. Oh, you heard right, the swine flu begins my new column because it really sums up my life and I don't even eat pork.
So, it is a calm Tuesday when I receive my emergency call from my step dad who is battling cancer right now. He asked if I could take him to the VA Hospital in Muskogee because he is needing a platelet transfusion and timing is critical. "Of course," is my instant reaction!
Now, since I was feeling a bit achy already I decided it would be best for me to wear some gloves and a mask as not to put my valuable patient at risk. Sure it was a little embarrassing when everyone was giving me the "I am so sorry" stares and the nurses hovered as I took my chair, but being someone who enjoys some attention, I ate it up.
Transfusion goes well, adorable little, old man in the chair next to us, even better, especially with the small ring of wet around his pants as he honorably hobbles away. Road trip home seemingly normal, lots of deep breaths that we made it on time and that it worked so no night shift at the hospital.
All is well in my world.
Then, a breaking news report that the swine flu has hit Oklahoma and has been confirmed at the VA Hospital in Muskogee. Mom calls me immediately.
"Can you believe you were there when someone had it?"
As my fever breaks and my legs are covered in goose bumps from the now cold sweat that is upon them, I know full well, that yes, I can believe that I was there and I am actually empathizing with the poor soul who put Oklahoma on CNN.