My Dad

A friend of mine is losing her mom.  She has just a little bit of time left to love, live, make memories, take pictures, talk, hug.  I know how she feels.  Ever since her story began, I have been reminded of my dad.   Many years ago, my dad needed bypass surgery...again.   Seven years prior, he had the same surgery with a slow recovery.  The day after he was told he needed it repeated, he called me.  I was living in a different state, going to college.    He told me he was "backed against a wall" and that he felt like he didn't have a choice.  I told him to consider another option.  I knew in my heart that things wouldn't turn out well.   So, I came home.  I left school and all my responsibilities.  I came home and followed my dad around the house for  three days. I watched him and listened to him.  I tried to absorb all the advice he could give me.  "Take care of your mother", "take care of yourself", "you don't need a man to take care of you", "finish school", "do good", "be kind".   My dad had that surgery and a month later he died.  He never got to see me graduate from college, get married, meet my wonderful husband, or hold my precious babies.  He missed out on what I consider to be the most significant events in my life.  Boy, do I miss him.  Dear God, can I have him back for just one more day?  We could go out for breakfast, he could shake my husbands hand, I could pile the kids on his lap.  I could wrap my arms around him and tell him and tell him how much I love him.  So, to my friend, I would say to you...love your mom, wrap your arms around her and tell her that you love her, write down her advice in a journal, take her picture, take pictures of the two of you together, plop your baby in her lap, make memories and savor the time you have left with her.  For this is such a precious time, a gift, really.  How lucky you are to know that your time left with her is limited.  To be able to make every moment count. To say what you need to say and to BE with her.  I wish peace and love to her and to my dad.



Here is a picture of my Dad and my sister, Leisa.

YouTube taught me everything I know

My children look like orphans.  It's true.  They haven't had a haircut since July.  The littlest one, probably not since her birthday in May.  I hate taking them to get their haircut.  I never know where to take them, and it's never a really good haircut anyway.  No matter whe we go or how much I spend.  I used to take the twins to Kidsnips.  It's one of those kid friendly haircut joints that cons you into buying toys, hair bows and expensive organic kid shampoo.  They liked it and didn't cry, so that's where we went.  Now they are older and want to go to a fancy salon.  I took them to one by our house and I was charged $30 per head for a haircut and blowdry.  And frankly, I think they cut off 1/8 th of an inch.  That's not a haircut in my book.   I've also taken them to the cheapo places, like Great Clips. The price is right, but the asymmetrical cut hasn't been in style since the 80's.  So, here's my dilemma.  Pay for a sucky haircut, or do it myself.  Yes, you heard me right.  Do it myself.  So, I got on YouTube and learned how to be a hair stylist.  Or, how to cut hair in a straight line.  I love YouTube. You can learn how to do pretty much anything.  I watched a video or two and now I know!  And, I'm saving some money.  And actually, I think I'm getting pretty good at it.  I bought some good scissors at Walgreens  for about $20 that cut great.  So, in conclusion, I think haircuts are a rip off.  And hairstylists charge you whatever they want to.  And, it's usually too much.  Especially at those fancy schmancy places.  My next, project is to learn how to cut my own hair.  That should be interesting.  Pictures to follow...

Stop stressing me out

I should be better at this.  It's been twelve years since I became a mother, and for some reason, I still struggle with it.  The drama, the emotions, the responsibilities, the guilt.  All rolled into one big anxiety frosted cinnabon.  My heart hurts.  Truly, it does.  It's become a physical thing.  I've even resorted to Lamaze breathing techniques to get myself through some days.  And, I'm sure, this too, shall pass.  I wonder how I got here, and lately, have been really missing some old friends.  And, definitely missing my family.  I think this Thanksgiving will be really good if I can drag my little family to Michigan to be with my sisters little family.  Oh, how they've grown.  Before I know it, I'll be old like my mom.  Wondering what the hell happened.   Hee Hee hoo...

Are you there God? It's me, Laura.

So, I stole the title of this post from one of my favorite childhood books by Judy Blume...Are You There God? It's me Margaret. A classic tale of teenage angst and a relationship with God. I've been thinking about God lately. Probably because a family member of mine asked me why I was creating a "fairy tale" for myself and my children. Now, I knew he was an independent thinker, and I knew that he didn't go to church, but I didn't know that he didn't believe in a God. That surprised me. And, quite frankly, saddened me. I am sad because I have a hard time relating to people who think that when they die, they will be buried in the ground to rot. Most of those folks also think that they can do or say anything they want because there is no higher power to be responsible to. It's so sad, because I've experienced God first hand. So I'm sure he exists. And he makes this life of mine worth living. I've felt him as a teenager at camp, when we accepted him into our hearts. I've felt him in the silent moments of young adulthood, when I lived alone and had the time to be quiet. I've felt him when I held my twin daughters for the first time. I felt him when I started bleeding at 19 weeks gestation with my sweet Julia. I felt him when my Dad died. I feel him almost everyday, as a forty year old wife, mother and nurse, who has so many responsibilities and unique experiences and home and at work that there's no denying God. A "fairy tale"? I think not. God gave me these three beautiful children that I love with all my heart. And a kind husband to share life with. And a job that shows me the miracle of life and God with each delivery I attend. So, I say....go to vacation bible school! Play Jesus music in your room! Go to church! Appreciate this time and this life and this gift...Given to you by God.

Last day of school

No more lunches No more homework No more 6:30 am No more "where is my gym shirt?" No more forgotton IDs No more "hurry up! Or you'll miss the bus!" No more kindergarden No more half days No more lunches with my buddy No more innocent 11 year olds No more sweet sixth grade Watching my children grow Bittersweet Accepting that I'm growing older Unbelievable Trying to hold on this time Impossible I love you Emily, Maia and Julia! What a wonderful year this was for you. I am so proud of your commitment to doing well in school and to being kind to others. I am proud to be your mom. XOXO

I love summer

I love summer. I love everything about it. I love the sun and the heat. I love the sound of my air conditioner running, and a really cold bedroom at night. I love to eat, drink and play outside. I love Popsicles, flip flops, citronella candles, BBQ, fire pits, grass. I love the unstructured days and the spontaneous nights. I love my vegetable garden ( which I have yet to plant) and eating something out of it every night. I love fresh air and flowers and farmers markets. I love planning birthday parties that consist of turning on the sprinkler and cutting up a watermelon. I love summer. I love NOT waking up early and NOT making lunches and NOT checking homework. I kinda love driving to work and it's still warm and light outside. I kinda like bugs, but not Mosquitos (whom I think can completely ruin a summer night). I love dollar store cheapo kids beach toys and sidewalk chalk art. I love a cold glass of white wine. I am starting to appreciate and love my birthday, which is in August. It makes me feel special and wiser and better. If I could, I would slow down time. So summer could be twice as long and twice as fun and twice as relaxing and twice as magical.

Yummy, Yummy!

Here are the pictures I promised of the Mississippi Mud I made.  Not like my Grandmas, but delicious.  I am looking for a recipe that is comparable to Grandma's recipe. I wish this was smell-a-vision!