Bad, Bad, Bad Blogger

I seriously wrote last on July 4? It was a bad sign when I was reading my daughter's blog from Australia and I realized Oh yeah, I have a blog too and proceeded to link to it from there. So no one really wants to read blogs about not having blogged and why, but I guess I'll do it anyway and move on. It will be good therapy.

I've been a caregiver for my mother-in-law since last spring, along with my sister-in-law, my husband to the extent he can, and in time there was also a person we hired during the day. Kelly (the caregiver, not my daughter..we call her Nurse Kelly) was a lifesaver to me. Not only did she help care for my mother-in-law, but she helped care for me as well. I'm not going into everything about being a caregiver because it is very hard and it is very depressing, and I grieved in a lot of ways; at the same time it is a blessing to be privileged to care for someone that way (and only a caregiver would understand what I mean by all of that.) The feelings are illogical but they are real. About a month ago, my mother-in-law had another stroke (her third I believe in the past eight years or so) and she has been in rehab since then. She is at our house today as I write, sleeping in her recliner behind me. She is very weak. We can barely get her to take a step or try to move. She is also very noncommunicative. Her speech was impacted. I can't imagine her recovering to where she was before the stroke, and she needs to show some substantial improvement to be back here in her home. I of course have mixed feelings about that. She's 89. She deserves to do what she wants, and if that means she just wants to eat and sleep, then she should be allowed to do that, but I don't think it will happen here, because there is a lot of heavy duty care involved in getting her to move about. 'Nuff said. God is good and I know he will take care of her and me and everyone. It has been a tough time on me emotionally...I was going through my own level of depression from the loss of my freedom, and started seeing myself from the outside in..and I had lost my positive nature and my smiling face. I'm trying to get it back. I'm trying to prepare myself for the possibility she could come back too, and I'm determined to be ok with it. The whole process is one of evolution.

I'm also only take one class next semester.

Right now I cannot wait for Thanksgiving. Mary will be home from Australia and I miss her so much. I'm just holding my breath until she is safely back home and I get to hug her. Her term there has been amazing. I can't wait to have my family and good friends (who are a part of the family) Kathy and Joe, around me on that special day. I have so much to be thankful for, so I keep mentally smacking myself and reminding myself of that. How dare I be depressed about anything in my life.

What perked me up a lot was my good friend Debbie who visited from Chicago Friday night and Saturday. Together we had a glass of wine and talked about good times. Where do the years go? Her little boys and my little girls are almost all grown up; it seems just like yesterday they were running down the backyards, playing dress up, running through a sprinkler; and Ed and I might be found sitting in their hot tub on New Year's Eve with icicles hanging from the ends of our hair. Debbie and I spent some of Friday evening and most of Saturday (with Ed's help..thank you!) boxing up packages of supplies to be sent to her nephew in Afghanistan and my school's secretary's nephew (also serving in Afghanistan). As I said, I have NOTHING to be sad about when I think of what it is like for them in that desolate place and for their families left behind at home. I watched Mrs. Miniver on T.V. last night...surprisingly I've never watched it since I am a major old movie fan...and it brought home the same idea, only the story took place in England during WWII.

That's it for now. I'll try to catch up and get back in the swing. I wish I could have kept writing through the past few months. I know it would have helped me a lot; but I literally have spent every waking moment on the computer doing work for my classroom or work for my classes...and there are just some things you can't blog about anyway.

Summer

Summer didn't officially begin until June 21 so I'm looking at my summer that way. From a teacher perspective, I guess we are close to half way through.

It hasn't felt like summer because of the chaos around me..which I actually am learning to appreciate. It takes my mind off of other things. Here is how it has gone.

1. We traveled to NJ the weekend after school let out to attend a family wedding.
2. Daughter No. 2 stayed behind in NYC with Daughter No. 1 to drive back with her. She moved home and will be teaching in Indianapolis. After they returned, a truck arrived a couple of days later and Daughter No. 1's stuff was unloaded into one of our three garage bays. Another of the three garage bays was already full of my mother-in-law's furnishings. So currently, we can only actually park in one spot.
3. Daughter No. 4 was at the wedding, but had to fly back to Chicago where she goes to school. Daughter No. 1, after arriving home on Wednesday, left on Friday to pick up Daughter No. 4, with a van load of HER stuff, which also was unloaded into the garage.
4. Daughter No. 2, who had recently closed on the purchase of a home, went that same weekend and picked up a UHaul and drove it into our driveway to take some of her grandmother's furnishings and Daughter No. 1's furnishings to use in her new home.
5. Daughter No. 1 began induction at Marian University the following week, repacked what she needed, and drove to Chicago for Teach for America training and to teach summer school in Chicago.
6. Daughter No. 2 is still organizing, painting, and cleaning at her new home, and I haven't had a chance to help her except for one day. I'm hoping to get back this week and next.
7. Daughter No 4. is getting ready to leave for Australia on Thursday, so this week has consisted of me helping her buy some things she needs in the way of clothing, make sure her communication devices are ready and planned, that financially she is set, etc.
8. Oh, Daughter No. 3 is around, but is working and spending quite a bit of time with her boyfriend; but her life is the most calm and normal at the moment. She is taking a class for the 2nd summer session. She lives at home...most of the time.
9. Oh, did I mention there is sort of a Daughter No. 5? This is a friend of Daughter No. 3 who needed a place to live until she gets married next spring. We offered. She was living with her sister, but her sister's husband is being relocated. Don't ask me about her parents. I don't really know the situation, but apparently they don't do a lot to support her financially or otherwise. I have to admire this young woman, as she works full time, goes to school, and has been on her own for awhile. When the idea came up for her to live here, I thought why not? What's another person in this house? I just told her as long as she lives here, she needs to let me know if she isn't going to be home (same rule of thumb for my other daughters) so I won't worry about her.
10. As soon as Daughter No. 1 finishes her summer in Chicago she will be hired and working for a school in Indianapolis teaching secondary English. She plans on living at home until she decides what to do. I don't think it will take long for her to decide she can't function here, and I don't blame her, so she'll probably find a place of her own. TFA is a two-year commitment, so I am relishing the idea that she will be nearby for the first time in several years.
11. My mother-in-law lives here and has a caregiver who comes daily until at least 3:30 or so (sometimes longer when available), but then in the evening I need to be here, or my sister-in-law comes over.
12. I'm trying to have a garage sale in a couple of weeks to empty the house of all the stuff it has accumulated, or at least as much as I can gather. We've only lived here five and a half years but somehow the house has filled up. I still have a lot of kid stuff in the attic although we did dispose of a lot of things before we moved here. There is some kid stuff I will hang onto for grandchildren one day (I can hope), like the little rocking chairs they used, etc.
13. I am presenting in the fall at an education conference and need to start on that.
14. I am changing my curriculum and need to do a little planning on that.
15. I attended a three day workshop on reading comprehension.
16. Ed and I were to travel to Michigan with some older friends who don't travel well alone. Our friend is in the hospital and will not be able to go. We've been worrying about him. Our friend had brain surgery and is going to be in rehab once he gets out of the hospital to get his strength back. Ed and I changed the reservation to a one bedroom condo (fortunately there was ONE available) and are still planning on traveling to upper Michigan in a couple of weeks). I'm VERY sorry they won't be able to make it with us, but also looking forward to getting away. We both need it. We've never been to Charlevoix and hear the area is beautiful. Ed's sister will be flying in from Taos, New Mexico, to spend the week with her mother here.
17. I've been trying to get all my dentist/doctor appointments done over the summer as well...mine and some of the daughters.
18. Oh, and in the midst of all this, Daughter No. 1 had a graduation party (she did most of the work and cooking...it was delicious..she's a great cook) on a Saturday; also Daughter No. 4 had an "I'm going to Australia and won't see you for awhile" party (for which "I" did most of the preparation...which means I bought everything to avoid cooking except for throwing burgers (frozen patties) and hot dogs on the grill. That happened the following Friday. And I also had a gathering on a Sunday to celebrate Father's day, my father's birthday, a brother's birthday, a brother-in-law's birthday all at once.

In a nutshell (I know that's much more than a nutshell) that is what my summer has been like so far. I haven't read a single summer read yet, but I'm working on it. I usually read at least 10 novels.

I don't know what all this sounds like to someone who might be reading it, but it is not a vehicle for whining or complaining. I actually thrive in this atmosphere...well, as long as I can see the end in sight. I find I do much better caring for my mother-in-law with chaos around me. I had four children. I'm used to chaos. Don't let anyone tell you it goes away once they graduate from high school, or even college.

Right now I'm going to go have lunch with a good friend at her house and look at her beautiful garden. That's a start, an attempt at actually doing something that feels like summer.

Returning

I'm going to make an attempt to return to my writing. I'm a teacher on summer break, but it hasn't felt much like summer break. My husband and I continue to care for his mother. We've adjusted. That doesn't mean I haven't had, and won't continue to have on occasion, a melt down. No more whining about that, however.

Actually I'm back because a friend who is much more tech saavy than I hooked me up with google reader so I could attempt to organize the blogs and other websites I frequent (which actually I haven't frequented much at all lately). So it prompted me to actually look to see when I last wrote. When I first saw March, I was thinking it had been a whole year. It hasn't. Only around three months; that isn't as bad as I thought. It "feels" like a year though.

I'll see what I can do here again.

Update

My, that last sounded firm didn't it? I'm stopping this one...now. I honestly don't even remember writing it. That's how my life has been lately. February doesn't seem so long ago, although March is about over.

I guess I'll try to keep this up, but maybe it will evolve into being a little more focused, or at least more regular. Life has gotten in the way. One of the rules is not to overdo it with talking about family, but let's just say this is a very hard time of life at the moment.

I just got a little freedom meaning even my youngest child is now in college, and suddenly I am hit with helping to care for an aging parent, and not my own, but my husband's, which of course is different. I'm assured that it won't impact my life, but that isn't realistic. I can't really go into it all in a blog, and I won't...I'll save that for my prayers, which I'm doing a lot of these days.

Just know...it is very, very difficult.

Anticipating the Holidays

This scene is no longer. I took this photo at my school's autumn gathering...our Chili Off. It took place at our kindergarten teacher's place, which is a beautiful area. She has a wonderful old farm house surrounding by fields. While we were eating great chili and playing games of Corn Hole and Croquet, I snuck over to get this shot.

These fields are empty now. Only stubble remains, and I'm thinking holidays. How could I help it? I've already seen Christmas displays up in department stores when I was in Chicago over last weekend. I'll admit that I love the holidays...from Halloween on, but Thanksgiving and Christmas more so than Halloween. But that doesn't mean I'm game for such early decorating. I don't watch a lot of television but I'm sure the Christmas advertisements are there. I know some holiday movie trailers are out. The new release of A Christmas Carol with Jim Carey is soon to be out. Early November is just too early for a movie like that. I find that when all the hype starts so early, I get burned out around the time I should be in the throes of shopping and cooking and crafting.

I have to admit though, I'm looking forward to this holiday season more so than I have for years. Why? If you read (and I really don't have a lot of readers..I'm basically just talking to myself here), I'm pretty much an empty nester. While I do have one daughter still at home, it's different. I have no high school children. I am free from all of the commitment it takes to be an involved parent. I loved every minute of it, but....

I won't be planning a Madrigal dinner (although I plan on attending and enjoying it). So, I can cook, craft, shop and wrap to my heart's content. Another interesting change, my adult daughters are encouraging me not to do so much shopping, and I'm game...at least if I can still do a little. We'll still have a family exchange on both mine and Ed's sides, but we will try to cut down on what we are doing for each other and instead adopt a family to assist.

We are having the big Thanksgiving meal (which I actually love because it is about food and not presents), but for Christmas we are planning on a more simple meal of soup/chowder, munchies, and desserts. We can have a lot less stress in the way of food preparation (Ed asked me..."When did this happen? Was I consulted?...he should know better), and more time for fun and games and holiday movies.

I am going to enjoy this...for years I've gotten caught up in making sure my girls were happy, that they had enough, that I was fair with what I did for each of them, etc....I'm a bit like my mother that way, although I'll never do what she still does...buys for each and every one of her children, their spouses, and her grandchildren. It's just too much and I wish I could get her to stop, but it makes her happy. I've finally gotten her to buy gift cards. I've finally convinced her that is what the girls prefer, but beyond that I doubt that her insistence on buying for everyone will ever end as long as her health allows her to do it.

I'm a Christmas fiend, so I'm sure I'll have a lot of posts about what I'm doing approaching the holidays. I've been away a lot due to a crazy schedule at home and school, so I hope to get back into the swing of things. And hopefully they won't be so all over the place as this one is (trying to catch up I guess).

DePaul Family Weekend

Ed and I visited Mary, our youngest, at DePaul University for family weekend last weekend. One of the events was a double decker bus tour from DePaul to center city and back northward again. Here is the back of Ed's head as we are trying to avoid decapitation when departing from the Lincoln Park area. It was a great weekend, except for one thing. I didn't get one single bite of Chicago Pizza. When your daughter lives there, pizza becomes commonplace and she didn't want it....guess I'm going to have to make a secret trip to Chicago to get my pizza fix!

Blast from the Past

Ed and I went to dinner last Saturday evening to a fabulous Greek restaurant in Fountain Square which is very near to where I grew up. The area is booming thanks to some efforts at renovation and quaint restaurants and shops. In my childhood there was no Interstate 65 running north and south through the middle of Indianapolis (which was actually the end of the area for many many years...it split the neighborhoods, many homes became rentals as families moved out, and it was dead for years). Before the interstate, there were nice little neighborhoods of middle class families, with dads who went off to work daily and moms who stayed home. My school, Public School #18, also known as Abraham Lincoln School was across the street from the first house we lived in (a rental), and then later (from 3rd grade on) a house just a block away. That home, where my parents still live, is the one and only home my parents ever owned. I believe it cost around $10,000.

I walked to school each morning, came home for lunch which I ate watching Popeye and Janie, and walked back to school, to return home at the 3:15 p.m. bell. Mom and her friends were in the PTO, had garage sales, sat in each other's backyards while their children played, and we all went home in time to sit down for dinner together every evening at 6 p.m. sharp. We then sat in front of the television watching Andy Griffith, Beverly Hillbillies, Carol Burnett, Sonny & Cher, Dick Van Dyke, Petticoat Junction (and those were from 3rd grade on...probably before that were shows even I barely remember...Wagon Train, etc.). It would never have occurred to my parents, or any parents, to complain to a teacher about school issues; and if we got in trouble at school there was no question it was our fault and we were in trouble.

Before Fountain Square is as it is now, it had a Murphy's "dime store." Actually it still may be there, but it can't be the same. I bought a lot of my school dresses there as a child, something like 2/$5. My mom used layaway. I can still smell that place, warm salted nuts, popcorn...and I can hear the sounds...a "ding, ding, ding" in the background...and I still really don't know what that ding was for. There was a soda fountain. There was an area where you could by 45 records....not actually purchase 45 different records, but actual vinyl records that ran at the SPEED 45 on the turntable. They were sold in sleeves, either plain or with the band's picture on the front. When I was 7 and my sister 14, I'd watch her buy the latest greatest release from the Beatles. She had (and later I had one too) a little carrying case for the 45's. You also had to have the little yellow plastic pieces to fit in the hole in the center of the record so it would play smoothly. At Easter you could actually go to Murphy's and buy chicks or ducklings, and I think we owned a duck for awhile. We also once owned a rooster, whose name was Sir Cedric, and he was mean. When my mother would go out the back door to hang the wash (of course) Sir Cedric would chase after her. Yes, we had a rooster in our backyard in Indianapolis. Sir Cedric was soon banished to a farm in southern Indiana.

In those days we also actually went outside to play, if you can imagine. We were outside from the time we got home from school until it got dark out, especially in the summer of course. Our parents didn't worry about where we were. The streets were safe. Of course there was some crime probably, but mothers didn't have to think about their children being abducted or that a child molester lived in the house down the street. You can't tell me that exposure to such things in the entertainment industry and the media hasn't had an impact in the numbers of sick and criminal minds today.

We were very imaginative and adventurous about how we spent our time, using our entire city block at dusk to play a game called Bloody Murder during which we tried to hide from each other. If you were seen, even from a distance, you were considered "murdered" and out of the game. I played jacks on the front porch of a friend for hours on end. We drew Hopscotch on the sidewalk and played, we jumped rope, we went around the neighborhood collecting soda bottles which we could turn in to the corner grocery store (owned by a neighborhood family who lived behind it) for money to buy penny (yes, penny) candy...25 cents equaled 25 pieces of candy. We bought soda from a machine where you put in your money (15 cents) and pulled the bottle out. My mother kept her old shoes, dresses, purses and jewelry...what little she had. It was put in a bag which was called a rag bag (she had one when she was growing up too so that is what we called it) and I played dress up in those things.

My sister and I played pretend games together such as "Queen." If you were the Queen, everything...and I mean EVERYTHING had to be done for you. Like, if I was Queen and had an itch on my nose, my sister the servant had to scratch it for me. We loved horses, so we also pretended that one of us was a horse and the other the horse's owner. Yes, we would go around on all fours and the other one would climb on and put a rope or string around the other's neck to go for a ride.

It was a huge deal for us to go to a fast food restaurant. In fact there really weren't any for a long time, and then the only one was McDonald's and maybe Steak n' Shake (the drive in kind), and White Castle. We just didn't eat out. I think my mother bought the week's groceries for around $20 a week. It never ever would have occurred to me to NOT eat what my mother put in front of me. As a child I ate liver and onions, beans, kale,...absolutely anything she put in front of me. The word finicky didn't exist.

This visit to Fountain Square last weekend really got me thinking about my childhood, and how very little we had in material things, and how great my childhood was probably BECAUSE we didn't have a lot of things. This foundation that was laid for me is what I tried to give my own girls. While Ed and I have so much more than either of our parents, I still knew what was important, and I tried not to give my girls too too much when they were children. While forces outside of a parent's control often feel stronger than the parent's control, I at least tried to instill in them the idea that the simple things are the best. I'm thankful I had so little growing up. I know it wasn't easy for my parents, but it turned out to be a very rich childhood.

The Baby

Here she is...my baby. Message to her sisters: Yes, you were and are alllll my babies. It's just that she REALLY is my baby, THE baby of the family. Here she is holding one of the boxes she has packed for her college trip. This is it. This Labor Day weekend, her father and I will be driving to Chicago to drop her off at DePaul University. It's starting to sink in...I can feel it. I've avoided it all year long...sort of .

All of her senior year in high school, with each passing event...each choir concert, the fabulous Madrigal Dinner, the musical...she has turned to me and said "Mom, did you cry?" I've sort of looked at her wondering what answer is it she wants? I cried...sort of...a little...if tearing up just a bit is crying. I worried that just tearing up would disappoint her since she has seen me profusely cry at some of her older sisters' performances. I never really answered her directly. So Mary, it isn't that those events didn't mean as much or touch me as much. Imagine how I felt playing Beauty & the Beast as you stood up there singing it. I maintained my composure but there were the few that dripped down my face as I held back so I could read my music. I think it is just that I had to remain stoic so as to protect myself until it was time.

I've been involved in the middle school or high school for 12 years now. I've seen my daughters perform on the high school stage as well as community theater. I've seen one or more of them sing at Carnegie Hall in NYC. I've been to Prague and Chesky Krumlov (a great little medieval town in the Czech Republic), Salzburg, Vienna, and Gumpoldskirchen (a great little wine town outside of Vienna. I've seen them sing on the steps of the Vienna Opera house, and in a salt mine in Salzburg. I've traveled to Peru and stood in Machu Pichu. I've seen them have lead roles or great parts in musicals....Hello Dolly, Bye Bye Birdie, The King and I, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, I Remember Mama, Down by the Ocean, Harvey, Jekyl and Hyde, You Can't Take it With You, Our Town, and loads more plays, including those when they were children in community theater.

It's over. It's starting to sink in. I will miss them performing. I hope I will see it again. What great memories. I'm not sad it's over in one way...they've had so many opportunities. I promoted those abilities, their involvement in the arts, since they were children. I took them to plays, and even when they were little I brought them up on movie musicals. (I was always shocked when they would come home from school and tell me that their peers had not hear of this movie or that when it was so familiar and so a part of our lives.)

Anyway, do you possible know how much you are loved...all of you? So, the baby will be leaving this weekend, but she's not so very far away and it will give us an excuse to visit Chicago. The others are well on their way...one finishing up undergrad and possibly planning on law school, one an English teacher, one pursuing a degree in Anthropology, and now the baby.

I think the dam is about to burst. I'll let you know. But that's ok. It's a passage. I've done what I am supposed to do. There are more good things to come...namely, some freedom for me. Don't worry, I'm not trying to be a parent who behaves as if other people don't love their children as much as I love mine. I just want to acknowledge that I am incredibly blessed as a mother.

(One last note...look for some blogs and pictures and stories now and then about their growing up years.)

An Earlier Visit

Back in March I posted about an experience I had, one of feeling the presence of someone near me on a stressful occasion, someone who had died. It was a calming experience. I knew that one day I would write about the one other time in my life when something similar happened.

The thing is that I was only five years old. It was shortly after my maternal grandmother (Mammaw) died. Having been so young when she died, I really don't remember that much about her. I just have this image in my mind when I think of her. I have very vague memories, if that is what they are, of her being around. My sister being seven years older than I, was very close to Mammaw, and I know it was a hard time for her and my mother.

I have this feeling that Mammaw wasn't a real happy person. When I do think of her, I picture her as in an old photograph we have around somewhere. She was only a a couple of years older than I am now when she died, yet when I look at the photos of her, she seemed so much older. I guess life was harder then. I've heard she was very different than Pappaw. He was the playful, silly one; she was the serious one. My mother was their only child. Maybe my mother will talk to me about her one day in a little more detail.

What happened is that I believe Mammaw visited me, and I feel she did so to say goodbye to me. All I remember is being in bed in the bedroom I shared with my sister. I remember waking up and opening my eyes. I felt her presence and I saw what I believe was the dark outline of her...like a shadow. Of course, being five years old it frightened me to no end and I hid under the covers and eventually fell back asleep.

That memory has lived with me all my life. I haven't shared it with too many people. I once worried that someone would think I was off my rocker. Actually, the response has been an overwhelming belief that this was a real experience and I should have faith that it was just what I feel it was. For many many years I never told my mother, but I eventually did. I still think about it once in awhile. It had to have been real. How could a five year old's brain retain something like that? I have no answer to that question, but I did and still do think about that event, now 48 years later.

I Stand Corrected

After posting the previous and "gifting" it to my parents, my mother told me I had just a couple of things mixed up. The first and not all that important is that my father had just been discharged from the Navy, but he was in uniform. Secondly, and more important, my mother did not turn 18 on her wedding day, she turned 17.

My mother was an only child, living in a small town in southern Indiana, getting married on her 17th birthday. Oh, she was also already expecting her first child. If it was scandalous at the time, which maybe it was, does it really matter after 62 years? I don't think it was a shotgun wedding. My grandfather might not have been very happy about it but it wasn't that. They wanted to be married. Look at what happened...four children, nine grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. The most important thing is a marriage that has lasted for 62 years.

They didn't get married in a church. It was a civil service. On their 50th we four children put together the celebration they never had...the whole shebang...a big reception, the cake, a slide show video with music, a limo, dinner and a hotel, and lots of family and friends.

I just figured out I would have to live to be 91 to be married for 62 years....not so sure about that.

Ode to Mommy and Daddy

Happy 79th birthday to my mother (tomorrow, August 16). It also happens to be my parents' wedding anniversary (the 62nd). My mother was just turning 17 when my parents married. That is amazing to me. She was born in 1930 and my father in 1927.

Those were the years of The Great Depression. I'm not sure they had a sense of the economic situation in the country at the time because they were born into it. I think that has a lot to do with what they instilled in me. I think that is why it was natural in our family not to focus on things, but instead using the imagination, and spending lots of time reading.

Neither one of them is well educated in the conventional sense. They did not go to college. My father did not complete high school, although a few years ago the Salem Indiana School Board issued him an honorary degree because of his service to the country.

He joined the Navy during WWII. He didn't see action but was on a ship, and I've heard some amazing stories about what goes on with sailors on those ships, e.g. the ceremony that takes place when a sailor crosses the equator for the first time.

Not being educated didn't mean a whole lot in their lives. My father was skilled and worked for a radio/television place, then in civil service at Ft. Harrison, and then part time again in an appliance store up until a few years ago. He used his hands. And he is smart. He should have been an engineer. He's one of those naturally handy guys who could fix anything.

My mother was born in Salem, Indiana. My father was born nearby in a town you usually can't find on an Indiana map, Fredericksburg. Both were born at home. My father first spotted my mother at the Salem roller skating rink. He was a sailor on leave and was too shy to ask her to skate, so a friend asked her for him. He was a sailor in uniform. Need I say more? My mother wasn't too shy to say yes.

So they were married on my mother's 17th birthday. My sister was born less than a year later, followed by my older brother, me, and my younger brother...girl, boy, girl, boy...that's us.

My mother stayed at home, my father worked....sometimes two jobs. She did kid duty. Dad came home, ate dinner, and rested. He had the boys involved in community sports. There weren't community sports for girls back then, so we girls hung out with mom. Even if they weren't formally educated, they saw that we were. They let the school and teachers do their job. There weren't helicopter parents in those days. If we caused problems in school, we'd answer for it. I don't think any of us ever had to answer because we behaved. It's just what you did. My mother was friends with other mothers, and they were in the PTA. We came home to eat lunch and went back to school in the afternoon. We attended the neighborhood school and walked there and back home.

I mentioned my father should have been an engineer. Well my mother should have been a nurse. Dad has had some pretty major health problems for around 27 years off and on. We call him the Everready Bunny. We thank God he's gotten through it all so far and has been around to see all of his grandchildren born, and many of them all the way through high school and into college. My mother continues to take care of all of his needs. He's spoiled, and he knows it I think.

So today (actually it is tomorrow but I'll be celebrating with the family, not blogging) I honor them both for all they have done for me, for my brothers and sister, and for our children. I love them both more than I can express. Happy 79th birthday mom, and happy 62nd anniversary mom and dad!

Another Parental Rite of Passage

I just returned from a two-day orientation session for Mary at DePaul University in Chicago. Ed, Mary and I spent the first day together, and then they separated us for the second day, although I know many of the same topics were covered, albeit from two very different perspectives.

This is the fourth time we've been through a college orientation (and another milestone...it will be the last). While not all of them were at the same school, they do have a lot in common. The same things are covered...housing, transportation, scheduling, time management, getting banking set up, financial aid, and on and on and on. The real juxtaposition occurs when we parents sit in on sessions run by current student panels and staff, and are shown things through what I know (because I've been through this before) but other parents don't know (because they are first timers) are rose-colored glasses.

I wanted to stand up and say "Get real." a number of times when parents asked questions about co-ed dorms (which they pretty much all are now and have been for some time), having guests of the opposite sex in rooms (which has pretty much been allowed for some time), and the question which always comes up about alcohol use. I just want to say, "You've laid the foundation. If they want to make a poor choice, they are going to make a poor choice."

My philosophy is and has always been to build a strong relationship of trust with your children. If you do (or maybe I'm just lucky) they will come to you...they will come and tell you they screwed up, and it is usually after the fact because they are in some sort of trouble, or they just feel guilty about it, or they found themselves in a situation which they thought they wanted to explore and suddenly it frightened them. When they come to you, it is a time to ask them if they learned something. It is not a time to yell at them or impose an overly punitive consequence. Usually the experience is lesson enough.

That doesn't mean you have to smile and say "It's OK honey." You CAN express your disappointment and displeasure. It's such a balance. In one session the presenter asked parents to raise their hand if they had ever made a poor choice. I don't think there was one person who did not raise his or her hand.

I'm by nature an observer. I've always been on the quiet side in some situations. I like to stand back and just watch. I've learned from observing. I've seen parents do things and I've watched the results, and I've learned what not to do. I've told my girls from the outset that I am not their friend. Yes, they've said to me from time to time...so and so's mother and she are best friends. From my observations, nine times out of ten that girl is or will be in some sort of major trouble. I of course also tell them I'm not so and so's mother, I'm YOUR mother. I've told them there will come a time when we will be friends, and that is happening now, but not until they are through high school and possibly college (or close to it).

I am not overly punitive and strict. I probably should have been a little more so sometimes, but when I've watched the parents of some of my daughters' friends adopt a "no tolerance" stance on some issues, those are the very girls who live a lie when it comes to their relationship with their parents. They rebel. You have to give them some freedom. You trust them until they give you reason not to.

The dynamics of every family is different. Girls are different than boys, parents do things differently. No one is absolutely right and no one is absolutely wrong. Maybe my philosophy is partly born of who my children innately are, how Ed and I have learned to balance it all, not only in dealing with things about which we have disagreed (which is sometimes REALLY hard to work out or maybe you don't even really completely work it out), but also in dealing with the distinct personalities of our daughters, and the interrelationships that exist in a family of six.

There are moments when your children come to you to own up to something, or to express how stupid what someone else their age did was, and you look at each other with a look that says "We did something right." It is very affirming. One of those moments was at orientation when we gathered back with Mary and she mentioned how a couple of the guys in her group were so immature. "Mom, one of them actually asked the Dean of Students...the DEAN OF STUDENTS, 'So what happens if we get caught smoking weed?' They are so immature!" Unless Ed and I are THE most naive parents there are, I have to say we have THE most amazing daughters.

Sensibilities

This is an example of what your grown children can do to you...first they talk you into things by flattering you into thinking you are still young and hip....and then they record it and post it on Facebook.

This....from the same children who were worried about me going to watch the movie Hangover.

Obviously I don't have too much sensibility or I wouldn't post this, right? That's what happens when you are a betweener....you sometimes have trouble knowing exactly where you fit in.

Mam-maw and Pap-paw

My parents... there they are.. they are so happy to be here and we are so happy to have them. They are wonderful people. And they are hysterical.

My dad doesn't get around so well and absolutely does need some help, but he is spoiled rotten. I don't know what he would do without my mother. I can't even tell you some of the things she does for him. You don't want to know. I can't imagine ever doing some of them for Ed. My mother is so used to doing everything for him that it has just become her culture. To some extent it has always been their culture, their norm.

The woman puts his food on his plate! He can't stand up and act like he is going somewhere without her immediately responding "What are you doing? Where are you going?" He sometimes acts half annoyed by it, but you can tell he is just pretending and that he actually enjoys every second of it. I think once in awhile she actually ought to ignore the fact that he is moving and see what he says. He'd probably be moving along with his cane or walker but looking behind him wondering why she wasn't saying anything. She follows him into the bathroom. You don't want to know...I don't want to know.

This morning he got off the couch to go sit outside on the screened porch and she immediately stood up behind him and asked the inevitable questions as mentioned above. Then she went to the sliding door before him and started asking him which chair he wanted to sit in. That one? This one? He pointed to "that one" and she proceeded to pull it out for him.

Oh, and this conversation just now took place while I was blogging:

Mom (standing next to him as he sat on the couch): I think I'll go down to the beach for a bit and look for some shells.

Dad: Ok.

Mom: Is that ok with you? It had better be...I did get your ice cream for you.

Dad: Yeah....uh....no, I don't think I want you to do that (joking).

Mom: Well you'd better. I'm going anyway.

So you see, half of this way of relating comes from her. Maybe more. I honestly don't hear him make demands upon her. She has just done everything for him for so long, it's her norm. It is way outside of my norm. You will rarely if ever find me putting food on a plate for Ed (although I did puncture and drain the blisters on the bottom of his foot this morning), and you will never find him asking me to do so. It would annoy the hell out of him. So while it is amusing, it also worries me. I can't imagine one of them functioning without the other.

I remember a time he used to make fun of her for being so addicted to soaps. Now he himself is an addictee. I know this because when they travel with us I get a sneaky peak into the lives they live at home on a day-to-day basis. When they aren't looking for their soaps, they are looking to see what "judge" shows are on TV. I heard dad whine this morning because he couldn't find Judge Matheson (whoever that is...so I don't know if I'm spelling it correctly).

Although Mom and Dad sit on the couch and watch soaps and judge shows, we do manage to make them get up and go. Ed took Dad this morning to rent a wheel chair so we could get him to some places which are difficult for him to reach...the beach, the pool, and whatever else we find on the island that might be a little on the inaccessible side for him.

They are so fun. Dad is ornery and likes to spend a lot of time teasing the girls, teasing Jon, and making up lies about me (or at least exaggerating the truth) when I was a child. And each and every night we are together, Mom and Dad (but especially Dad) want us all to line up and give them a hug and kiss goodnight. Dad hugs me, kisses me, tells me how much he loves me, and says thank you for the hundredth time for including them in our adventures.

As far as I am concerned they have been the best parents ever and they deserve to spend their time doing whatever they want.

Betweener

I'm a boomer, but mostly I consider myself a betweener. I'm somewhere between my children and my parents. Right now it is a blessed time and a time to enjoy each and every moment at both ends of this strange spectrum.

My youngest of four will be leaving for college soon enough, and I suppose, as difficult as it is to say, I don't know how many more years my parents will have with us.

Last year we took an extended weekend trip with my parents because my father in particular cannot travel on his own. My mother has a driver's license but really doesn't drive much, and he can't do it on his own. It would be risky at this point for them to take off anywhere for long on their own. So my dad noticed in the AAA magazine a driving tour through a section of West Virginia. Ed and I decided to find a long weekend and made it happen. We had a great time.

That prompted us to invite them to travel to the gulf coast of Florida with us last year at the beginning of summer. As a child, my parents and some friends of theirs vacationed at a small family-owned motel on Madeira Beach. We went for years each summer. They became friends with the owners of the motel which turned into a years-long friendship. Their friends are retired now, my parents had not seen them in a very long time, and I know they just never thought they would return to Florida ever again. They were a little nervous about all the work it takes to prepare and withstanding the heat, but it worked and we had a wonderful time. Again, they (and Ed and I) really didn't know if it could happen again.

It is happening again. I am writing from somewhere near Macon, Georgia, on our way to Sanibel Island, Florida, a spot my parents actually have never visited although it is within two hours of the area where we used to vacation. I will try to report on our fun over the next few days. There are eight of us...three of our girls and a boyfriend. There should be lots to share.

I am so blessed and thankful to God to have my parents with me, particularly my father, since staying healthy has been a challenge for him for the past 27 years, when he suffered a heart attack shortly before Ed and I were married and in fact could not attend our wedding. That is another story for another time perhaps, but I am so grateful that he has been around to see the birth of all four of my children, seen them through grade school, high school, and into college.

My parents ask me why in the world I would want to drag them along, and all I can do is assure them that we truly want to do this with them and for them. It is giving us a great deal of pleasure to see them happy and enjoying themselves.

Conspicuous Consumption

I don't think there is any hope for me. Last night I cleaned out a walk-in pantry and today the refrigerator. We've lived in our home less than five years, and I actually have completed both of these tasks a number of times. That means...when things are falling off shelves or out of the refrigerator when I open the doors. Another sign they need to be cleaned is when someone else in the family opens one of the doors and says "There's nothing to eat." even though both are crammed full. Oh, one more sign is when a guest in your home (particulary a friend of a teenage daughter...teens have no tact whatsoever...) opens the doors and mentions that they need to be cleaned out).

Well, it's done. And I have to live with a ton of recycling because the bin is full and I've had to resort to using another container to hold the surplus; the large garbage container is also full (I threw as much as I could into the garbage disposal, but you can't throw paper, cardboard, or non recyclable containers in a garbage disposal (hey, there's an idea of something someone should invent). The recycling will be picked up on Tuesday of next week and the garbage on Wednesday, so I have to live with it until then. I hope I sealed everything up tightly.

I'm marking this date on my calendar. I want to know if having let go of a lot the responsibilities that go along with being the mom of a high school aged child (FOREVER!) will make any difference in whether I have just one bag of powdered sugar in my pantry instead of five partial bags, or whether I discover things in my refrigerator I no longer can recognize.

All humor aside, I really do want to live in a way that avoids waste, especially when our country could probably feed the entire world.

An-ti-ci-PA-A-tion, It's Keepn' Me Wa-a-tin'

The lyrics of that song have more to do with the anticipation of being with a lover than going on vacation, but I am suddenly feeling that great feeling of looking forward to something, our family vacation to Sanibel/Captiva Island, Florida. We took a trip to the Tampa/Clearwater area last year and it was great, but Sanibel is one of my favorite places.

One of my favorite books, Gift from the Sea, published in 1955 (my birth year), was written by Anne Morrow Lindbergh on Captiva Island. I discovered it around ten years ago and wish I had found it much sooner.

Gift can stand alone, but if you are interested in its background, I recommend Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Her Life by Susan Hertog, published in 1999. There may well be other books about her life out there, but I sense most of the material is focused on Charles Lindbergh. I loved reading about the way Anne was raised. Her mother was consistent at reading aloud to her and three siblings. (I have three siblings and my mother also read aloud to us regularly; I likewise have four children and reading aloud was extremely important in our home. Was I not meant to learn about Anne Lindbergh?) Once they outgrew being read to, the habit of reading to themselves and also writing on a regular basis came naturally. Anne's father was a lawyer (my husband is a lawyer). They obviously grew up in a household which placed value on education and held high standards of achievement. Anne's mother was active in promoting women's education. When I discovered Gift and also read her biography, I related so much to Anne, her life, and also her struggles. Any woman friend I know who has read the book relates to it, no matter what stage of life.

The flap of the biography states that Anne was "shy and sensitive, yet rebellious and ambitious." She had her own ambition, yet struggled with being caught up in her role as wife and mother, and what was expected of her. I didn't get the feeling she resented those responsibilities, but they are labor intensive, and we all know how easy it is to set ourselves aside. Of course Charles was in the limelight and I'm sure this made it even more difficult for her. It seems not many people know that she was a writer and also an aviator. Most only know of Charles' aviation record and of course the horrible events surrounding the kidnapping and murder of their infant son.

Gift from the Sea is poetic, simple yet deep, wise; it crosses time and space.

So I think I'll pull it out to take with me, knowing that when I search for shells on the beach, Anne Morrow Lindbergh might have walked the same path. I might even find time to reread her biography.

The area is governed well. It isn't Panama City. There are building restrictions on height, so you won't find high rises. There are restrictions on shelling. No live shells may be taken, yet there are piles of shells on the beach at low tide. Being a barrier island, the area is known for shells and you'll see people in a stance (bent over looking at the ground) called the Sanibel stoop. When in the water you can find many live starfish, sanddollars, and other shells to enjoy even if you can't (and shouldn't) take them. The area is also populated by sea turtles whose nests are marked and protected by law. The fauna and foliage are interesting and beautiful. The J.N. "Ding" Darling National Wildlife Reserve is located there as well and is part of one of the largest undeveloped mangrove ecosystems in the country.

There will be eight of us. Regretfully our oldest daughter, Caitlin, is out of the country and can't join us this year; but there will be other years. My parents, who can no longer travel easily on their own, will join us (a road trip with two vehicles). We plan on relaxing, enjoying the quiet and beauty, eating good seafood, reading, writing (I intend to) and playing some Skip Bo, Scrabble, and Phase Ten....and I mustn't forget the Bloody Mary's and Margaritas.

Ahhhh....an-ti-ci-PA-A-tion......

The Un-Fourth of July

I decided to wait until the entire day was over before posting my thoughts on this Independence Day. I kept thinking maybe something exciting would happen. This July 4 really didn't feel like July 4 at all. For one thing, it rained most of the day, and was cool and dreary. It felt more like Labor Day. Erin is out of town, Caitlin is out of the country, Kelly was vegging at her apartment, and Mary was packing to go to camp on Sunday. We didn't go to Ed's brother's place in Michigan or his other brother's place in the Dunes. We just stayed home.

Ed and I were remembering the way we spent many Independence Days. From the time the girls were very small we typically would go to his brother's place in northern Indiana on Lake Michigan (Ogden Dunes). We'd walk to the beach and spend most of the day there. The first year with children, Caitlin would have only been six months old, the next year I would have had 18 month old Caitlin plus a five week old Kelly. Physically I was exhausted, handling a toddler and being the nursing mother of an infant. Ed was there of course, but babies have such a physical need for their mother. I spent more time at the house than on the beach those two years.

After the day at the beach, we'd walk back to the house and have a cookout and all the other chaos/fun that goes along with such a big family. Ed is one of seven siblings, plus a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins live in the "region" so it just goes with the territory. So you can imagine...sand everywhere, sunburns, food on the grill, yard games, fireworks not only in the yard, but back at the beach, and of course....mosquitoes. Mosquitoes in the area of Lake Michigan seem far worse than the ones in central Indiana.

While these were amazingly fun times and we made a lot of memories, I also haven't forgotten how exhausted I was as a mother. Before we were finished, we added two more daughters, and if anyone has experienced more than two children, you know it suddenly becomes exponential. Three or four children feel more like six or eight children. Just the thought of how we packed, prepared food to contribute, and got together all the things you need when you have young children....well, it tires me to think about it. Of course we were all having our families at the time, so there were kids and babies everywhere.

Sometimes my now nearly grown daughters say "Mom, I don't know how you did it." When I think about it, neither do I. I guess that's because I have the memories, but I'm remembering in the context of now being 53 and I can't imagine doing it now. I usually tell the girls, "I just did what I needed to do," and I think that's the way it is for a mother. You love them beyond words. Instinct kicks in.

Being in the middle generation of three generations, I'm also aware of how my mother and mother-in-law seem to have forgotten all about the hard work. My mother-in-law in particular will frequently comment about the fact that I am always doing something (she's talking about now, not when I was busy with babies) and that I never sit down. When she says this I find it perplexing because I'm not doing anything stupendous. I'm usually filling the dishwasher, making a simple meal, etc., but to her it seems like a lot. My goodness, she raised seven children, without modern conveniences. I guess it's all relative. I'm just hoping I avoid feeling that way for as long as I can. I'd rather be 80 something and still active with my memory intact.

For now I remember fondly all the fun, and while looking at pictures of the girls when they were little makes me melancholy, I also remember the sheer physical exhaustion that goes along with being a mother. I remember it both ways, and that helps me to not be sad about my girls growing up because there are good things about it. We have so much fun together now, they affirm to me each and every day that I did a good job, and the most of the exhausting times are over. It is extremely rewarding to watch them develop into women and there is a real sense of pride thinking I had something to do with who they are.

So this year it was the Un-Fourth of July. About the most exciting thing that happened was comforting one of my dogs when she was hiding from the fireworks under the bed. I've decided that's really okay.