Dancing in the Rain

I have literally been dancing in the rain this week. Rain and tornados and hail…and more rain and more hail…we spent 3 nights in the past week down in the basement because of tornado warnings. April showers and all that. And the basement is so gross right now because Tony is still in the midst of repairing everything after our flood a couple of months ago, so there’s not even any furniture down there. It has been raining and raining and raining…I think we have about one day a week where the sun shines and it doesn’t rain. I’ll still take it over the snow and ice we had all winter.

It has been a while since I’ve written here. Not because I haven’t wanted to or had anything to write about, it’s just that life has been crazy busy lately and by the time I have time to sit and write, I’m too tired to sit and write.

So here’s how I’ve been dancing in the rain lately:

*I’ve been making lots of yummy things to eat.
Too many. I really need some gardening weather so I will be so busy working out in the yard that I will be too tired to make anything other than chicken nuggets and tater tots.

Last week, I made a double batch of blueberry preserves. I’ve never made it before, and it turned out so yummy. We’ve already eaten 2 jars of it. I wish I had made the low sugar recipe, but alas I didn’t, so I’m trying to control myself and not eat it every day. But oh my, it’s so delicious on a toasted bagel.

I also tried a new chicken recipe. Actually, it was a shrimp recipe that I used on chicken instead because not everyone in my family likes shrimp. It’s a copycat recipe of the coconut shrimp at Red Lobster, which I love more than just about any other food. We only go to Red Lobster about once a year, so I don’t eat it that often. Anyway, it was scrumptious. It was messy to make, and time consuming, but well worth it. Everyone loved it. The best part was the dipping sauce that was made out of non-alcoholic pina colada mix, crushed pineapple and sour cream. Tony liked it so much I thought he was going to pick up the bowl and drink it.

On Friday, the kids were out of school, and Rachel had had a friend spend the night Thursday night. She begged me to make homemade cinnamon rolls because I haven’t made them for a long time. So, at 6:30 am, I started making cinnamon rolls. They take forever, so we ended up having them for lunch instead of breakfast. Fortunately, I didn’t eat too many of those because my children inhaled them, and out of these 4 pans:



Only 5 rolls were left.

*A couple of weeks ago, I ended up on fun little shopping expedition with my girlies. It didn’t start out that way, believe me. I was leaving the house for the dreaded weekly Walmart trip, and Rachel asked if she could go because she wanted to look for some new shorts. I’d been telling her for over a week that I would take her shopping, so I told her she could tag along. Then, Lauren decided she wanted to go as well, and while I was envisioning lots of sister sniping since they have raised that to a form of art, I let her come too. Well, we ended up having a blast. They tried on shorts, made fun of clothes, went off together to decide what they wanted me to get for dinner, teased each other (in fun ways for once instead of their usual nasty mean girl ways). Then, when we were in the check out lane, I was teasing Rachel about how her taste in clothes has changed lately. This is the conversation that followed:
Lauren: That’s because now she wants to copy off of me and dress like me because I am soooo awesome! (Oh, yes, my daughter is so very humble, I know).
Rachel: Well, Lauren, that’s what little sisters do when they look up to their big sister!
Me: Picking jaw up from the floor, speechless.
Lauren: That’s okay, we go to different schools so it doesn’t matter right now anyway.
Rachel: Putting her arm around Lauren and putting her head on Lauren’s shoulder) I love you, Lauren!
Me: Again picking my jaw up from the Walmart floor, still speechless
Lauren: (taking Rachel’s arm and head from her shoulder) I love you too, Rachel, but don’t ever put your arm around my shoulder in public again.

I don’t think anything more needs to be said as to how that made this mama feel. I didn’t say a word about it to them at the time, or since. We went out for ice cream after we left Walmart, and for days, just thinking about that afternoon brought a smile to my face and joy to my heart. My kids are all at an age where more often than not, it seems as if they can’t stand each other and that they can’t wait to move out and never have to see each other again. This one afternoon in Walmart gave me a spark of hope that maybe just maybe, they really do care about each other.

I wish I had some pictures of this sisterly love moment, but I don't.

*I’ve been in a jewelry making frenzy.
I made 25 of these bracelets for the Angel Ball:





I also made some jewelry for me to wear to the Angel Ball:





And for my boss to wear to the Angel Ball:





And for Rachel to wear with her Easter dress:




I’ve had on my thinking cap lately to try to come up with a way that I can make some money from selling jewelry. Not that I think I can quit my job or anything, but it would be nice to make some extra money.

*Shoe shopping
I will admit this here and now, and no one in my life right now (except maybe my husband) knows this about me. I used to have a shoe fetish. Well, maybe not a fetish, but I used to love shoes. Before I had kids (aka when I had more money) I bought a lot of shoes. Probably more than one person needed. I had a some shoes that were only worn with one or two outfits. It’s embarrassing to even write that, because I am so not like that now. I rarely buy myself shoes. Well, in the past few weeks, I have bought myself TWO pairs of shoes. First, these:




Yeah, exciting I know. But, they are running shoes. I have started running again for the first time in nearly 3 years. I was on a pretty good running regimen when I fell and hurt my foot in the fall of 2008. I didn’t try to run again until last summer, and I gave up after a short time. This time, I am hoping not to give up. Although the rainy/haily/tornadoy weather isn’t making my resolve to not give up very easy. Tony and Justin love to run in the rain…me, not so much. Maybe when I am a dedicated runner who feels as if a day isn’t complete with a run I will enjoy running in the rain, but for now I don’t.

I was out shopping for something to wear to the Angel Ball, and wandered into Famous Footwear. I didn’t really need any shoes because I have a pair of black shoes that I could have worn. But, they aren’t really all that comfortable, and since that is such a long day and night, I thought maybe something new would be better. I looked at lots of different shoes, everything was way way WAY out of my price range, and I was ready to leave the store when I saw these:




They are so cute. And they were only $12.99…for a good brand of shoes that I have never been able to pronounce (Etienne Aigner) the original price was $85. You can’t tell from the picture, but they are black patent leather, and I felt like a little girl getting new shoes on Easter. They are so comfortable, and I think that is the first time ever that I have been at Angel Ball without walking around barefoot by the end of the night because my feet were screaming “get these shoes off me NOW!!!”

Okay, enough about my feet. And this has gotten way too long. And I will wind down and save the rest for a Dancing in the Rain Part 2. However, I want to share one last quick story about my girls that truly made my heart sing and leap and made me want to skip through fields of daisies and make clover chains to put in my hair.

I mentioned already that we have had lots of storms lately. There isn’t much that truly frightens me, and in fact, I normally love a good thunderstorm. When I don’t have to be out in it that is. Sometimes, there is nothing I like better than curling up under a blanket with a cup of tea and a movie and listening to storms rage outside while I am comfy and safe inside. But, BIG but…tornado weather does not stir up those warm fuzzy grab a quilt feelings. I guess my years in Omaha with many nights spent huddling in bathtubs and basements and back hallways in malls did me in. When the sirens go off, I turn into a big baby, herding my family to the basement, sometimes in the middle of the night, shivering in fear while trying to pretend to the kids that I am cool as a cucumber and that hiding out in the basement is a grand adventure. Friday night, we had scary storms. Hail. High winds. Tornado sirens blaring and stopping and blaring and stopping in 5 minute intervals. We headed to the basement, all while watching the reports on tv of the tornados that were touching down around us. Rachel was hysterical. She always is in storms, which is the main reason I do my very best to remain calm even when I’m not. Friday night, Rachel was so scared, and Lauren said to her, “let’s go sit under the stairs, it’s safer there.” So Lauren and Rachel sat in the closet under the basement stairs, just the two of them for 45 minutes. Lauren told me that SHE would take care of it when I said I would go sit under there with Rachel. Lauren told me later, once the storm had passed and it was safe to leave the basement, that Rachel kept telling her we were all going to die in a tornado, and she (Lauren) kept telling her over and over, no we weren’t, and in 12 hours, this would be all over. I was so proud of Lauren for comforting her sister like that. I imagined them in the closet with their arms around each other since they weren’t out in public. The closet is pretty small, so they were at least sitting next to each other.

That is all for now.

You May be Right...I May be Crazy

I can’t believe that I am going to write what I am going to write next.

Give me a drumroll please, and then hold onto your hat!


I am quickly heading toward 50 and I am looking forward to it.

No, you don’t need to go clean your glasses. I really am looking forward to turning 50 in 2 years.

And no, I haven’t lost my mind. Well, I’m sure there are some folks who might disagree, but for other reasons.

Let me explain. To be honest, I have been dreading turning 50 for a few years now. I think Mr. McDread began twining his creepy fingers into my brain around the time I turned 45 and I remembered how much I had hated turning 40. I was downright depressed about it. So depressed in fact that my friend who planned a surprise party for me told me after the party that she had nearly cancelled it because she thought that I would hate it, and hate her for planning such a thing. I don’t know why I hated it so much at the time, but I have done a lot of pondering about that for the past couple of weeks.

I have never been very sure of myself or of my capabilities and talents. I look back on my teen years with complete and utter horror and wouldn’t take money to relive them. College was better. My 20s were even better, yet I was still so unsure of myself in so many ways. I was trying to figure out how to be a good wife while trying to make my way in the working world. I was struggling to become a mom. I had 4 miscarriages in my 20’s. I had moved 10 hours away from my family and was trying to fit into Tony’s family and make them my own. So while they were good years, they were still filled with so much insecurity.

The best decade of my life so far was hands down my 30s. When I was in my 30s, I was a stay at home mom raising the little beings who called me mom and loving every minute of it. Well, maybe not every single minute, especially those that involved trips to the ER and weeks being cooped up in the house in the winter with sick kids. I didn’t really love potty training either. But I loved everything else. I loved snuggling up on the couch with my children on my lap and reading to them. I loved crawling around on the floor playing cars and Barbies and doing floor puzzles. I loved it when Justin would crawl into bed and curl his sweet little boy self next to me every morning to watch Scooby Doo. I loved coloring in coloring books and teaching them to write their names and playing game after game of Candyland and going to the park and the zoo and for walks around the neighborhood pushing a stroller. I loved tucking them in at night and saying “sweet dreams” as they wrapped their arms around my neck and said “I love you mommy!” I loved it all. I don’t remember ever wishing away their childhood. I was never one to say “God, I can’t wait until my kids are grown!” I was never a mom who wanted to work in order to have “adult interaction.” I truly enjoyed being a stay at home mom and was so thankful every day that I was able to be one. In my 30’s, I think I was the most content I have ever been. We didn’t have many financial worries back then. Life was oh so sweet and good. Not just good. Very good.

Then, I turned 40. My kids were older. The year I turned 40, I started working at Share. Saying I had a hard time adjusting to being a working mom is an understatement. Even though I was only working part time, after being a stay at home mom for 13 years, it was a challenging adjustment. Those first few years, I spent so much time feeling like Gumby, stretched in too many different directions. On the one hand, I loved my job, and on the other, I felt as if I wasn’t a good enough mother any more. There were times when playing with the kids and taking them on outings felt more of a burden than the fun it once had been. Where once I would stop whatever I was doing and play or read if one of the kids asked, I now found myself saying way too often, “I can’t, I need to get the laundry/vacuuming/dusting/etc done.” And I feel so guilty about that. My house isn’t as neat and tidy and clean as I like it to be, and projects fall by the wayside. For the first time in my life, I started buying instant mashed potatoes and canned spaghetti sauce. I know it sounds silly, but for a long time, it really bothered me. It still does at times.

I know I have accomplished a great deal while I’ve been in my 40’s. I’ve done so many different things I never would have imagined I would (or could) do. Some of the people I have met through my job have encouraged, supported and cared about me in ways that no one ever has before. Because of them, I have more confidence in myself than I ever have, yet in other ways, I feel like I did as the insecure teenager I was in high school.

Which leads me to the real point of this post…why I am looking forward to turning 50 and the person who inspired me to turn my thinking around.

A couple of weeks ago, I was having a spectacularly bad day. The reasons why don’t matter, but there were many. I was at work, struggling to get through the day without having a meltdown. I was working downstairs rather than in my own office because I was doing a bunch of different things for my boss, and rather than continually running up and down the steps, I just took my laptop down there to work. It is getting close to Angel Ball time, so now and then, gals from the committee stop in. I love those days…they were some of the first people I met through Share back when I was still a volunteer, and it is always a bright spot in our day when they drop by. In the beginning, I was very intimidated by them; I felt as if they were way out of my league…pretty much all of them are doctor’s wives, they dress to the 9’s, have large beautiful homes, throw fabulous parties, sent their children to the top private schools in St. Louis…you get the picture. However, I quickly learned that they are just like anyone else, they just have more money. None of them have ever treated me as “beneath” them as I imagined they would when I first met them.

Anyway, on this particular day, Francois stopped in. Francois is French, is jus the sweetest person and we all love her. And she loves us and Share just as much. She is a cute and spunky, and I have often hoped that I am that cute and full of life as I get older.

I don’t think she was expecting to have the conversation we had on that day. She sat down at the table with Cathi and I and innocently asked me how I was, how are the kids, etc. Like I already said, it was a bad bad bad day. I don’t even remember exactly how I answered that question, but Cathi ended up stepping in and told her I was having some “challenges” in my life. What an understatement that was! I did end up telling Francois that it was just a rough time, I was having a hard time dealing with some hard issues with my kids while also trying to deal with my own issues…which led to a conversation about menopausal/hormonal issues, how much it sucks, and how much I am so ready to be done with this phase of my life, but that I dread heading into my 50’s. She really seemed to listen, and to care, and then, she told me how awesome her life has been in her 50’s. Better than ever, she said. She said that in her 50’s, she has been more settled, more sure of herself, and her life has been great. She doesn’t care what people think of her anymore, and she is truly happy and content for maybe the first time in her life.

While lately, I have been feeling as my life is going downhill fast, hearing her say that not only made my day, but it made me feel hopeful for the first time in a long time that things will get better. It made me think that maybe the best years of my life aren’t behind me as I have often been thinking, but rather ahead of me. Francois really inspired me that day…inspired me to not only do some reflecting on my life so far, but she also has inspired me to look forward to the next phase. I’ve talked to her several times since then, and each time I do, the first thing she asks is, “How are you? Are things better?” Her care and concern come through loud and clear and means so much to me. I have thought so often over the past couple of weeks how I wish I had many people like her in my life.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a birthday party for my boss who recently turned 60. Francois was there, and I had to get a picture with her.


Can you believe this woman is almost 60? I can only dream of being that adorable when I am almost 60! And yes, I know I look like an Amazon woman next to her, but in my defense, she is about 5 foot zero and probably doesn't weigh 100 pounds.

It used to bother me when people said I was “cute.” I always thought I would rather be described with words such as “lovely,” or “elegant,” or “beautiful.” I always thought of “cute” as the way you would describe a little kid or a puppy or a sweater, not an adult woman. But, now that I am heading towards 50, I honestly think that there is no better compliment someone could say to me than “you are so cute!”  On that same note, couple of weeks ago, one of my coworkers told me I’d changed a lot in the past couple of years, that she never realized how “feisty” I can be. I can think of nothing I’d rather be than a “feisty, cute” 50 year old. And I thank Francois for turning my thinking around.