October (My most clever title ever, right?)

I’m taking on a project this month that I feel kind of strange, yet strangely good about.

October is most commonly known as breast cancer awareness month, and everywhere one looks, there is a sea of pink. Everywhere, we are bombarded with everything from pink grocery bags to pink kitchen gadgets to pink wine bottle labels. This year, I keep hearing about pink light bulbs to put in your outdoor lights. What most people don’t know however is that it is also pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, signed into being by Ronald Reagan in 1988.

It’s no secret to anyone that I have experienced four miscarriages. They were many years ago, and I don’t think of those babies as much as I used to. I don’t often talk about what I went through, but there are times at work, especially this time of year, that thoughts of them are just right there, the memories and details as clear as if they happened only last week. Fall has always been the time I think of them the most--my first loss happened Labor Day weekend, the second was late in September a few years later, the third happened on New Year’s Eve, but I had gotten pregnant in September, and the fourth…well, that baby was due on Halloween.

Back then, I didn’t know about Share, I had no support whatsoever, and I had nothing tangible to remember those babies by. I had no ultrasound photos, no nothing. Not even a card because no one sent me one. I went on with my life like I was expected to do. I had more kids like I was expected to do. I was happy, and if thoughts of sadness found their way too close, I quickly pushed them away. Not only did I push them away, but I thought I must really be crazy for  still having those thoughts.

What I didn’t expect when I began volunteering at Share years later was how forcefully some of those long-buried feelings would come rushing back at me and that I would no longer be able to easily push them away. The first few months I spent at Share were rough, and I often drove home in tears, wondering how I would be able to go back. They were rough, but healing--healing in ways I never realized I needed to be healed. Part of that healing was realizing that I really wasn't crazy, that almost every other woman who had lost a baby, no matter  how far along in pregnancy, had most of the same feelings I had experienced. Something else I learned in those early months so many years after my miscarriages is that grieving cannot be avoided. Whether you do it at the time, or years later, you have to eventually do it; there is no way around it.

 Not long after I began volunteering at Share, I spent the day with a huge group of women preparing the newsletter to be mailed. It was mid-October, and the newsletter was the holiday edition. A few articles caught my eye, and after everyone left, I began reading. I was so intrigued by the different ways parents memorialized their baby, even babies who had died in the first trimester. The thought had never crossed my mind to do something tangible in remembrance of my miscarried babies.

In the many years since those long ago early days at Share, I have become very passionate about helping grieving parents come up with unique and meaningful ways to memorialize their babies, and I even teach a workshop on the topic. Whenever a parent calls to talk who has had an early loss, I always ask them if they have done anything special to memorialize their baby and try to give them ideas. One of my favorite things about my job is the memorial/burial service for miscarried babies that we do four times each year in collaboration with one of our local funeral homes. It is so touching to see the outpouring of support these families have, and the ceremony always leaves me with a warm feeling in my heart as I go about the rest of my day.

While I still haven’t done much to memorialize my own little ones, the love I have for them shines through in the things I help others do. I kind of feel at times like I am doing these things for myself as well as the parents I help, and I often wonder who is really being helped…me or them?

Which brings me to my project for the month of October. Someone who is prominent in the online world of helping grieving families has set up what she calls “Capture Your Grief” in honor of pregnancy and infant loss awareness. The idea is to take a photograph each day for the entire month and post it on a special facebook page that she set up just for this purpose. She posted a list of topics on her blog—suggestions for what to take photographs of for 31 days. Many of the topics don’t really seem relevant to me now, but I decided to take part in it anyway. I really don’t want to share what I take pictures of on the facebook page, so I decided to post them here.

Sooo….here is my picture, a day late, from day 1, of the sunrise on October 1, 2012. That was right up my alley since I love watching the sunrise and I often take pictures of it anyway. Unfortunately, yesterday was gray and gloomy, so there wasn’t a pretty sunrise. I took a picture anyway

 

 

And I loved it. Then, about 20 minutes later, I happened to glance out the kitchen window, and there must have been a small opening in the clouds and the sun was illuminating the trees.

 

I love that photo, and I see so many things when I look at it. For one, we have been hearing that the fall color would not amount to much this year due to the extremely hot, dry summer. Yet here are these beautiful golden trees right outside my kitchen window; they are the only trees in our neighborhood that have really changed color yet. The other thing I couldn’t help but be aware of is the juxtaposition of those bright, golden trees against the gray, ominous sky. It almost seemed perfect for the beginning of this project; it made me think of how even in the midst of grief, there are bright spots, even though they are often hard to notice.

 I can honestly say I no longer grieve the loss of those four babies. I do think of them, yes. I do wonder how different my life would have been if they wouldn’t have graced it for the short time they did. When I look back upon that time of my life, it is hard to believe I survived it. I look back now and think of the numerous gifts I feel I was given by their brief presence. They changed me in ways I would never have imagined years ago. At the time, I only saw the negative changes—the anger and jealousy I felt when I had never in my life been an angry or jealous person; the loss of innocence that I wanted to have back; the loss of joy and happiness that I just knew would never be mine again; the fear that permeated every aspect of my being. So many negative things that I couldn’t envision myself ever getting past. Yet I have. I read somewhere years ago that time doesn’t heal all wounds, it only teaches a person to live with them. I believe that with all of my heart and soul. I look at the years since my losses as a gift of time…time that has enabled me to see not only the negative ways I changed, but also the positive and good ways my life changed that I would never have imagined. While I used to think I must be nuts for always remembering those babies after so many years, I have now come to accept that I will always remember, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. So much of who I am is because of them, and I accept that.

That is why I decided to take part in Carly Marie’s Capture your Grief project.And like I said at the beginning, I feel strange about it, yet strangely good. I don’t know how many days I will capture, but I’m looking forward to trying most of the ideas. And I am curious where it will take me and how I will interpret her suggestions for each day.  

 

 

These are the Moments

The idea for this post has been lazily rolling around in my head for a few weeks now. I’ve tried to write it more than once, but I can never seem to find the right words to say what I want to say. I hate when that happens because I can’t get the thoughts out of my brain, and I need to.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving to work and feeling a little down. For some reason, my morning drive to work has become the time when I stew and fret and think about things that are weighing heavily on my heart and mind and soul. I’ve tried all sorts of tricks in an effort to make myself stop doing this--I have tried leaving home a few minutes earlier and driving the more scenic, relaxing way to work on the river road. I’ve armed myself with stacks of CD’s with upbeat songs. I have begun listening to a St. Louis radio station called Joy! that plays Christian pop music. I’ve even resorted to listening to the morning show on the station my kids listen in an attempt to get in a few laughs on my drive to work. For some reason, none of those things have worked, and I end up spending my drive to work feeling sad and out of sorts, and that is really not a fun way to begin my day. Thankfully, my commute to work is less than 30 minutes, and thankfully, I don’t go through this same process on my way home. I wish I knew what it is about that morning drive that makes me think the thoughts I think and feel the way I do.

 

Okay, back to the day I mentioned. I was driving to work, feeling down and wishing I had someone to call to distract me because I felt myself on the verge of tears. I had a meeting that morning, and I didn’t want to arrive at work looking like I’d been crying, and I was channel surfing the radio when I heard an old song that I used to love—“These are the Moments” by Edwin McCain. I have no idea why I left the radio on that station that morning but I did, and I remembered when the kids were little and it was one of my favorite songs. I loved it so much back then that I even made a scrapbook page with “These are the Moments” as the title. Back then, that sappy song that was meant to be a love song, always made me think how very lucky I was. It made me think that I really did have everything I’d always wanted, and I especially loved the line “and I could not ask for more.” My life was far from perfect and we had our stresses and worries just like everyone else, but I knew—knew without a doubt--that the good things we had far outnumbered and overshadowed the not so good things. I was happy and content and grateful—so incredibly grateful--for all that I had.

 

However, listening to it that morning depressed the hell out of me. I felt the tears threatening to let loose, and as I put my finger on a button intending to switch radio stations, this line from the song grabbed my attention:

 

Right here at this moment, is right where I’m meant to be

Now that gave my mind some food for over-thinking thought!

 
I am not going to write all of the thoughts I had the rest of my drive to work because it would take me forever, depress me even more, and all of the random thoughts that raced through my mind that morning aren’t really the point of any of this. The point is where those thoughts ended up. It ended up once again making me feel like I am a schmuck for being down and depressed about anything, that I should be happy with what I have instead of pining for what I don’t.

I have a framed card that sits on my desk at work. I bought it years ago, not because I wanted to send it to anyone, but because I like the saying on it. Above a bunch of colorful, handpainted flowers, it says “If you wait to be happy, you’ll be happy never. If you are happy NOW, you’ll be happy forever.” Hearing that old song on a morning when I was feeling very down for lots of different reasons reminded me in a way to try to be happy and embrace whatever moments I am given, no matter what those moments bring. Which of course reminded me of why I originally started writing this blog 2 years ago.

 Soooo…on that note, I’m going to write about a few “moments” I’ve had lately that I have tried to embrace and think about in a positive way. I’ve had many “moments” this past week alone:

Lightbulb moments.

Bittersweet moments.
Whack myself on the head because I’m an idiot moment
Feel good moments.
Feel like crap moments.
Eye-opening moments
Proud moments

For once, I am not going to write about the feeling like crap moments, or the whack myself on the head because I’m an idiot moment. I’m turning over a new leaf. At least for today anyway.

I’m only going to talk about the good moments because I am making myself let them overshadow the crappy ones.

 First, there is this one, definitely a bittersweet moment:

 Seeing my baby girl all dressed up for her first high school dance.

 

 

 

Rachel really surprised me. Before we went homecoming dress shopping, I just knew she was going to pick out some icky dress cut down to here and up to there that form fit her body. I just knew we were going to end up in a fight in the middle of Macy’s or Deb or wherever she found the awful dress that she just HAD to have. I just knew that our shopping expedition would involve tears. Not only from Rachel, but from me, too. Frankly, I was dreading it and wishing that Lauren would talk her out of going to homecoming by telling her it is lame or something.

 Thankfully, I was wrong, and I liked nearly every dress she tried on, and we had so much fun shopping and trying on dresses and shoes and jewelry. She didn’t buy the dress that was my favorite, but I think she looked beautiful in the one she chose. She wanted high heels, I didn’t. She could barely stand in them, much less walk, and I envisioned her breaking an ankle. She wanted jewelry I didn’t really care for…but in the end, it all came together beautifully, she looked beautiful, and I was misty eyed when she was ready to leave for the dance. She noticed and said “Oh my GOD mom, why are you crying?” in that horrified/OMG you are so stupid way that teenagers can be pros at. I pretended it was an allergy attack along with a bug that flew into my eye. She bought it. I think.

We went to take pictures with her friends at a park, and it was so much fun. They climbed on the playground equipment and wanted to swing. They ran through wet grass in their bare feet, high heels tossed aside, to the soccer field.

 

 

All of us moms who spent too much money in the salon cringed and wondered what those expensive up dos were going to look like after they ran around the park and what their pedicures would look like after running around like barefoot little heathens,

 

 

 

but the girls didn’t care. One girl told her mom to “chill out! My hair will be fine!” So we embraced the moment and took pictures of them sliding down slides and swinging on swings and playing on the monkey bars.

 

 

When it was time to head to the dance, they all put their shoes back on and primped in front of car windows, checking hair they supposedly didn’t care about and applying fresh coats of lip gloss.

I drove home smiling through tears. It was definitely a bittersweet moment.  While I love that my little girl is growing up, I hate that my little girl is growing up. It seems like just yesterday I was walking into her first day of kindergarten (I cried then too! Shocking, I know!), and now, I’m taking photographs of her ready to go to her first high school dance.

The next morning, I snapped this picture, and I love it!

 

 

Just 12 hours before, she was trying to be a grown up in a sparkly dress and dangly earrings and high heels she could barely walk in, and she came home and fell asleep with her blanket that she has had since before she was born. When I saw her like that this morning, I cried again.

 I cry way too much, I know. I sometimes wonder how I will make it through my children’s weddings.

A lightbulb moment….

Rachel has a friend that I cannot stand. Let me say that again…I CANNOT stand this girl. Unfortunately, she lives across the street. And even more unfortunately, she is Rachel’s best friend. She spends a great deal of time at my house, and while she is always nice, she doesn’t treat Rachel very nicely, and I don’t understand why Rachel puts up with her. I’ve tried to talk to Rachel about how to treat friends, and how to expect to be treated by friends. She gets it, and she has other friends that I really do like. But this particular girl just gets under my skin, and there are times that when she is in my house that I can barely let myself look at her. Don’t get me wrong…I am nice to her. I bake cookies and make jewelry and play games with her and Rachel when she is here. I just don’t like her. Tony thinks I shouldn’t let her be here so much, but I like being able to keep my eye on them, so I suck it up and make the best of it. Rachel told me a few weeks ago that Lindsay really likes me, so I guess I must be a damn fine actress.

Of course, since Rachel and Lindsay are best friends, Rachel wanted her to get ready for homecoming at our house. I said that was fine, but wouldn’t Lindsay’s mom want to help her get ready, and she laughed and said Lindsay’s mom doesn’t care about stuff like that. Okay.

Lindsay came over early in the afternoon and wanted to go with us to the salon while Rachel had her hair done. I am not good with hair, so I decided as a treat, I would let her have her hair curled and pinned up. When we got home, the girls had about an hour to get ready before we needed to leave to go to their friend Katie’s house for pictures. The upstairs bathroom was a mess of makeup and shoes and jewelry. I told Rachel I’d help with her make up if she wanted me to, but otherwise, I was steering clear of the whole production. About 20 minutes before it was time to go, Rachel yelled that Lindsay needed my help because she was having a “hair emergency!” LOL And she was. Lindsay has a lot of hair that is naturally wavy. She had decided to just let it be wavy, put up the top, and then I was going to curl some tendrils around her face. Well, 20 minutes before departure time, Lindsay decided to straighten her hair, and she totally made a mess of it and was in tears, begging me to fix it. I tried, I really did. I plugged in my curling iron and used that and the flat iron to try to give her some soft waves. It took FOREVER because her hair is so thick, and as I worked, I tried to calm her down because by that point, she was saying she wasn’t going to go to homecoming. I kept telling her she looked really pretty, her hair would be fine by the time I was finished with it…all while thinking, “I suck at hair, that’s why I took Rachel to the salon, so that I wouldn’t have to deal with teenage tears over hair!”

 In the end, her hair looked pretty, she put on her makeup, and we were finally ready to race out the door, only 15 minutes later than we should have been. Lindsay quickly ran across the street so her mom could see her and take pictures, and she was back less than 2 minutes later saying her mom was asleep, woke up, told her she looked good, then went  back to sleep. That’s when my attitude toward Lindsay softened a bit, and I felt sorry for her. Lindsay is her mom’s only daughter, it was her first high school dance, and while I was frantically helping her get ready, she was sleeping and didn’t even care if she took pictures. Lindsay spent the night after the dance and was here all day on Sunday until dinner, and when she left, she gave me a hug and thanked me. I felt like a terrible person, kind of like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes in one day. I decided right then and there that I am going to try harder to be nice to her for real and not just fake it.

A feel-good moment…

Two weeks ago, I had a brief and lovely glimpse of sisterly love between my girls when they decided it would be fun to go to school dressed as twins. I thought maybe it was twin day, part of spirit week, and they said no, they just wanted to do it for fun. AND, it was Lauren’s idea! Of course, I had to snap a photo.

 

I had warm fuzzy feelings about it all day. The next day, they spent the 45 minutes before they left for school yelling and calling each other names like idiot and quitter and loser. So much for sisterly love, but I am so glad I captured the moment the day before.

A proud moment…maybe 2…

Six years ago, I was dragged kicking and screaming and protesting into teaching a workshop on a very difficult, heavy topic at the training workshop we hold twice each year. I have never ever EVER enjoyed public speaking. Shocking I know since often, I start talking and can’t shut up. But the thought of standing up in front of people and talking, trying to actually TEACH them something…well, the thought of it made me want to throw up. As time has gone on, I have gotten better, and even a bit comfortable (notice I said a BIT!), but I still had butterflies for a couple of days before, especially after someone gave me a scathing evaluation 3 years ago.

 That training workshop was this past weekend, at the end of a crazy busy work week for me, and by Thursday night, I was so exhausted that I didn’t even pull out my notes to go over them, even though I had to teach Friday afternoon. I haven’t looked at the evaluations yet, and I was a tiny bit nervous, but I think I did better than I have ever done. Saturday afternoon, I teach a different workshop, on a more fun topic (if there can be any

“fun” topic in a conference that is teaching people how to best care for those who experience the death of a baby). Again, I was on a roll. When I was finished, my co-worker Jenn said to me “Wow! That’s the 3^rd time I’ve heard you give that talk, and you were AWESOME!” Later, at the end of the day, Jenn and another co-worker and I went to the hotel bar for a glass of wine, and as we clinked wine glasses, she said, “To Rose who I think has found her niche!”

I would not go quite that far, but I did feel really, really good about both of my workshops, for probably the first time ever. And the good feelings didn’t end there. Yesterday, my boss was there all day for the first time all weekend. She was there for about 2 hours Friday morning and about 3 hours Saturday morning, and that was it. Yesterday, I was almost embarrassed a few times by how much she was bragging about me to the participants. I am not sure what brought that all on since so often I feel like she is disappointed with what I do. While I was sort of uncomfortable being put on the spot like that, it was sort of nice, too.

Another strange thing happened over the weekend, more than once. My boss recently announced her retirement, so everyone is all abuzz about it. Two different people who teach workshops at training, who I haven’t seen since March, had all kinds of questions for me of course, and they both asked me if I would be taking over for her. I said no way, I have no desire to do so, and I told them both what kind of person our board wants to hire. They both seemed surprised and said that they just assumed that when she retired, I would take over, which surprised ME that they thought that.

 I could write more about this weekend, but I will save that for another time. So many little things happened that gave me much to ponder and think about, but I am done now!

So there it is. Or there they are…some dancing in the rain moments.

I have done a great deal of thinking the past few weeks, since the morning I was so depressed and heard “These are the Moments” on the radio. I have thought back on a few times when my life was in turmoil and I felt like it was never going to be the same again. Looking back on those times, I was right in my prediction, and my life wasn’t ever the same. However, after most all of those times, my life eventually became better. Much better. I only wish I had a crystal ball that I could gaze into so that I could know that better, brighter days are ahead. Since that is not possible, for now, I am going to keep trying my best to live in the moment, pay attention to the good moments while trying to ignore and downplay the bad ones, and most of all, try to have  faith that the good, touching, life-is-sweet moments are greater in number than the wow, things-really-suck moments.

Life

It’s only 7 am, and I have an entire glorious, totally alone day stretched out before me. I’ve already thrown a load of laundry in the washer, I made myself a veggie and cheese omelet, I’m working on my third cup of coffee, the house is clean.

 

And did I mention I have this entire day to myself?

 

I don’t plan on turning on the tv, or the radio, or anything that makes noise. Well, the washer and dryer make noise, but those are down in the basement, so I won’t hear them. Today, I plan on knitting, reading, painting my toenails, making myself a yummy salad for lunch, doing some more reading. Oh, and writing of course! I am working on a blog post for the Share blog about the importance of celebrating joyful simplicities when you are grieving, and I have several ideas of things I want to write about for this blog swimming around in my head, so I may get started on some of those as well. I may even take a nap and make a batch of homemade ice cream. I am also planning on getting out some of my fall decorations. I don’t usually do that until the end of September, but I am more than ready to leave this summer in the dust. Bring on pumpkins and mums and apple spice scented candles (which by the way, is already burning on my kitchen counter). I’m tired of droopy petunias and shriveled up hostas and crispy brown grass.

 

When I woke up early this morning, before the sun was even beginning to lighten the sky, I had a few moments of feeling depressed, or maybe sad is a better word, that I was looking so forward to a quiet day by myself. I felt sad that my life has come to this point, where I look forward to a quiet holiday spent alone. There was a time when Labor Day meant barbeques and swimming with neighbors and friends and kids everywhere. Then, we began to spend Labor Day weekend in Virginia Beach. We did briefly toy with the idea of going to Virginia Beach this weekend, but Tony and the kids have some other running trips planned for this fall, so that was one reason we decided not to go. It would have been nice to have one last family vacation before the boys leave for the Navy, but Justin couldn’t have gotten off work anyway.

 

I decided that rather than feeling sad at the way life has changed and is changing, I’d dust of my seldom-worn Miss Susie Sunshine hat and think instead of the good things about having a day all to myself. I came up with the list above of things that I wouldn’t be able to do if everyone was here.

 

So, here I am, crossing one thing off of my bucket list for the day.

 

This has the potential to be yet another Gloomy Gertrude post, but I will try my very best to spin it into something good before I am finished.

 

As I was planning my day early this morning, I decided that I am not going to spend it on the computer other than for writing. I’m going to pretend that I have no internet service after I get this posted and not waste my day away checking email and playing games on facebook. However, I did want to catch up on some blog reading, so I went to my favorite blog where I read something that gave me the idea for this post. I didn’t actually need an idea because I thought I already knew what I was going to write about. However, this is perfect for the way I have been feeling lately. I just didn’t put my thoughts into words like this.

 The author of the blog has written the past week about her daughter’s struggles with starting kindergarten. She has written about her own struggles with this, too.  On Saturday, she wrote about how she has learned these four principles about life:

 

1.    Life is hard.

2.    You have to go through it.

3.    You learn.

4.    And then, you grow.

 

Amen to all of that.

 

1.    Yes, life is hard. I accept that. I don’t like it, but I accept it.

 

2.    Yes, you have to go through it. You have no choice. I accept that too. I don’t like THAT either. I wish I could be like a caterpillar and go curl up in a cocoon somewhere with a quilt and emerge as a beautiful butterfly ready to bravely face my new world. But, I guess maybe that isn’t so easy, either. I have no idea what a caterpillar goes through in its cocoon…how much pain and turmoil it experiences before it becomes a beautiful butterfly. I guess a caterpillar probably does a huge amount of work inside that insulating cocoon. Maybe that’s what I want…to be able to do my work inside an insulating cocoon, where I don’t have to deal with outside stresses and problems.

3.    You learn. Well, hopefully, you do. The blog author has this to say about learning:

 

And the fear of learning itself? Well, aren't we all afraid of that? As exciting as the world of knowledge and experience is, the magnitude of information--what we don't know and have yet to learn--can make us feel so small and fragile.

 

Those words sum it up perfectly for me. Yes, I am learning. I have learned so much in the past few months about life, about myself, about people I care about. And, yes, I am afraid of some of these new things I have learned. Very much afraid. Some days, I think it’s too much, and yes, much of it has made me feel small and fragile. And alone. Very fragile, and very alone. Those are not very good feelings to have when I am almost 50 years old and wishing and thinking that things in my life could be more settled and secure than they are. Wishing that everything I have worked  for and valued and treasured didn’t feel as if it was slowly slipping through my fingers no matter  how tightly I  clench my fingers together to prevent it. I am even more afraid of what I still have to learn in the future. Will those things bring me to my knees, or will they empower me? I wish I knew.

I will take the blog author’s thoughts about the fear of learning one step further and say that learning can be the hardest part of the whole process. I can accept that life is hard. I can deal with going through it. I am armed with a few “tools” that help me get through each day—I can bake, I can read, I can knit, I can go for a run, I can clean out a closet or a drawer. I can scrub my kitchen floor until it shines. I can do any number of things to get through each moment. It’s much harder and scarier though to think about what I have learned/what I am learning.

 

Which brings me to:

4.    And then, you grow. I don’t think I’m to that part of the process yet. I don’t feel like I am growing. I feel like I am withering like my pots of sun-scorched summer flowers.

 

Wow.

That came out so depressing. Definitely not a “dancing in the rain” post.

 

 I wrote a few weeks ago about how I am feeling guilty for not writing posts full of happy dancing in the rain moments since that was the reason I began writing here. I have come to a sort of peace with that though. I write to help me sort out things in my mind, and the things I’ve written lately have helped me do just that. So I guess in a way, this silly blog is serving its intended purpose. And even though I have often written in a more melancholy way lately, I haven’t forgotten to focus on simple little joyful things, even though it may seem as if I have.

 

In fact, I will end this with a list. J

 

*I have been knitting up a storm.

 In the past month, I have knitted 5 dishcloths and started working on my first ever shawl. There are times when I am ready to toss the thing in the trash because I have ripped out more rows than I actually have on the needle right now, but I am determined to finish it one of these days before it gets chilly. My aunt Saundra gave me the pattern and said she would knit it along with me. Her shawl is finished, and she even dyed her own yarn that she knitted it from.

 

*I have been cooking up a storm.

My kids are loving it. I’ve baked homemade bread and cinnamon rolls and new cookie recipes and new enchilada recipes. My coworkers are loving it, too. I’ve brought lunch for all of us on several occasions when I wanted to try a new salad or soup recipe that I knew no one in my family would eat.

 

*I have been reading up a storm.

I’ve read 5 books this summer. I’ve read 2 Jane Austen books. That doesn’t sound like much of an accomplishment, especially because at the beginning of the summer, I downloaded every Jane Austen book onto my Kindle (they were free!) and told myself I was going to read every one of them by the end of the summer. Yeah, that didn’t happen. I hadn’t read Jane Austen since college, and I quickly remembered they take a very long time to read. But, hey! I read two of them! I think I will save the rest for winter reading.

 

*I have been running up a storm.

Okay, so that is a little white lie. I just wanted to keep up the storm theme I had going on. I have been running and walking though, on a pretty regular basis. My dog is loving me for it, and I am starting to enjoy our early morning jaunts. I try to get out by 6, and it does help me feel a little bit more energized for the day ahead.

 

It’s now time for me to get off my computer and go enjoy the day as much as I can.

 

Strolling Down Memory Lane

Last week, I decided to take a trip to Olney. Other than quick trips for weddings and funerals, I haven’t been there in years.  I have been trying to find a time to get together with my Aunt Candie and an old friend from college for months, and this weekend, finally, the stars aligned, and it worked out for all three of us.

Friday ended up being a crazy day, and while I had planned on leaving here at 2 in order to beat weekend traffic out of the city, my plans didn’t quite work out, and it was 4 before I was ready to go. After spending 2 plus hours in a Missouri state vehicle inspection center, and dealing with a complete a-hole, I was ready to scream. I headed home, threw my suitcase in the car, and then spent the next 90 minutes sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic trying to get out of St. Louis. By the time I crossed the Mississippi into Illinois, (which should have been a 30 minute not 90 minute trip) I wished I had never planned such a trip. Traffic wasn’t a whole lot better in the first miles of Illinois, and I couldn’t even put the car on cruise. The state police were out in full force. I was driving Justin’s car, and I had called him while I was waiting for the inspection on the Expedition to ask him to put the CD's from my van into his car because he was going to leave with my van before I got home. Well, he forgot, so I ended up having to dig through a bunch of old stuff before I left to find CD’s to listen to when I was zipping through rural Illinois with no radio stations.

What a blessing that turned out to be!

Once I was completely away from St. Louis traffic, I turned off the AC, rolled down the window, opened the sunroof, and blasted my golden oldies CD’s, thankful that none of my kids were along to make fun of me. (They LOVE to make fun of me when I listen to songs that were popular as they say "in the olden days"). By the time I exited Highway 70 at Effingham, knots that I hadn’t even realized had tightened my shoulders loosened, and thanks to Katrina and the Waves and Roxette and Wham!  and Bob Seger, I was calm and cool and windblown and  ready for a fun weekend in the big town of Olney.  For once, I wasn’t even irritated and impatient as I followed slow-moving cars and trucks and combines down Rte. 130 between Newton and Olney.  The wind was whipping my hair around, and I felt free as a bird. I felt freer and more relaxed than I have felt in a very long time.

I have always loved Olney. When I was a kid spending summers with my aunts and grandma, I truly WAS free as a bird. As a city girl spending the summers in a small town, I had so many freedoms I didn’t have living in the city. I could ride my bike to the pool or to town to buy a soda at Bower’s drug store. I could ride my bike pretty much anywhere. I could WALK to the grocery store! In short, I loved Olney.

I haven’t lived in Olney since 1983. I used to visit much more than I do now when my parents lived there. This was the first weekend that I spent there that wasn’t because of a wedding or a funeral, and I enjoyed every minute of it.  Early Sunday afternoon, I left my aunt’s house  with hugs and promises to visit again soon, and I had every intention of heading straight home. I texted Tony and told him I was leaving. 

I sort of got sidetracked.

Imagine that!

In reality, it took me two hours to actually get out of Olney.

First, I drove by our old family house on Elm Street. I would give just about anything to be able to go inside and see what the new owner has done with the house. A few years ago, my cousin Libby was in Olney, and she walked up and knocked on the door, and he showed her around. I wasn't that brave. I took zoomed in pictures from across the street and then worried that they saw me and were calling the police to report someone stalking them.

Here are 2 pictures of my most favorite house ever.

Not only did my mother grow up in this house, but so did my grandmother, and my great grandmother. My great grandmother’s father built it as a wedding gift for my great great grandmother, who ended up dying in childbirth. I spent a great deal of my childhood in this house. It is an awesome house…every bedroom has (or at least had) a fireplace. The living room has three bay windows. Everyone knows how I feel about porches, and this house has the ultimate porch—perfect for hanging ferns and wicker swings. That big tree in the front yard has always been there, and I have many great memories of raking piles of leaves that were taller than me and then jumping in them.

 I was on a roll after that. I ended up at St. Josephs, and decided to take some pictures of the church Tony and I were married at.

From St. Joe's, I turned from Elliott onto Main Street, and decided that I had to stop at Hovey's for a Pepsi.

 Hovey’s has been around since I don’t know when, but my parents hung out there when they were kids. I doubt it looks much different today than it did in the 1950’s. I think it still has the same formica tables, although the red vinyl and chrome chairs look newer. Whenever I am in Hovey's, I always imagine '57 Chevy's at the curb and girls in saddle shoes.

After I left Hovey’s my reminiscing really kicked in.  As I walked back to my car, I decided to take a picture of theold library (that sadly has been replaced with a newer, more modern library)

and the movie theater.

This is where I saw my first movie. I was 11, and I went with Mom and Aunt Mary to see Paper Moon.  At the time, Paper Moon was quite scandalous, at least to my mom it was, and there were a few parts where she covered up my eyes.

My next stop was my Grandma Fulk’s house. The neighbors were out, and I really felt funny about taking pictures, but I really wanted to. So, I drove around the block, rolled down the window, and took a picture.

Looking at that little house made me a little sad. The bushes and plants are so overgrown, and I couldn’t help but remember how behind that tree, my grandma used sit on the patio in a rocking chair and feed squirrels from her hand. I remembered her beautiful flowers, mostly red geraniums, that lined the patio. I sat there for a long time looking at her house. I know it’s not her house anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time, but to me, it will always be my grandma’s house.

I reluctantly drove away and my next stop was the park. My grandma lived just two blocks from the park, so it didn’t take me long to drive there.

So many things are the same. So many things have changed. And sadly, while white squirrels used to be all over the park, I didn't see even one.

I was surprised to see these swings still scattered around. They used to be green, but other than that, they look exactly the same.

These next pictures are of what used to be the pool. Oh, how I loved going there! There was nothing like the Olney pool where we lived in St. Louis. I think going to the pool was my favorite thing about summer in Olney.

(I love how the original pool that was filled in years ago is still visible around the edge).

This deck overlooked the deep end of the pool.

It used to be painted pool-water blue. And it wasn’t so run down looking. If you jumped off of it into the pool, you were kicked out. I never jumped off that wall, but I did teach myself how to do a flip off the diving board the summer between 7^th and 8^th grade. It’s funny how when I  was a kid, that deck seemed so far above the water, and it’s actually only about 4 feet high.

I headed down the hill that falls away from where the chain link fence that surrounded the pool used to be

I was a bit shocked to see that this covered bridge is still there. When I was a kid, we were all scared of that bridge. We thought "perverts" hung out there...we didn't know what a pervert was, but we knew they hid out in that bridge waiting for little kids. The bridge looks just as creepy now as it did in the 1970s. I took this picture and high tailed it out of there because there was a very strange guy who was hacking away with a baseball bat at a dead tree branch while he mumbled to himself.

My last stop on the way out of Olney was one I knew would be emotional. I turned off the highway at "The Rez" to take a peek at Aunt Mary’s old house.

And it’s no longer there. :(

It looks like someone tore it down and built a new house. I drove around the whole area, and there are quite a few brand spanking new huge all-brick homes with 3 car garages and BMW’s in the driveway. It just didn’t seem to “fit” with what I remember…cute little cabin-type houses that back up to the lake with beat up looking metal fishing boats tied to rickety docks.

I drove around, and then parked my car, got out and walked down to the lake through a small grove of pine trees.

The carpet of needles on the ground was so deep my feet sank. It smelled wonderful though, and I gathered some pine cones that I brought home and put in a bowl that is now sitting on my desk.

 I couldn’t get to anyplace that would enable me to take a picture of Aunt Mary’s old house, but it’s just around the bend in this picture.

 After I took pictures from here, I drove back to where her house used to be. I decided to be brave, knock on the door and ask whoever lives there if I could walk around back and look at the lake. There were three cars in the driveway, but no one answered the door, so I did walk around the sides of the house and take a few photos, but I was too chicken to walk all the way into the yard.

I had to take this picture. There used to be a huge pine tree here that Aunt Mary always had covered with those old fashioned gigantic Christmas lights. When we were all kids, we were so excited when we pulled into her driveway late at night and saw that lit-up tree. There used to be a stone wall where that fence now is.

I also picked up some of these cute little green acorns before driving away.

My last stop on the way out of Olney was Fox Creek Winery. Wow, was that off the beaten path! I almost gave up and turned around to head back to the highway. I bought a bottle of wine while I was there. Right now, I am enjoying a glass!

For the next hour, I sped down the 2-lane country highway that winds through the heart of Illinois farm country. There were storm clouds looming, and the combination of stormy skies and corn fields was quite beautiful. As I passed through towns so small they don’t even have a stop light, I think for the first time, I truly appreciated where I came from. I have driven that road hundreds of times throughout my life—as a child, when the drive down those country roads meant we were “almost there;” as a college student on the way to and from college on weekends and school vacations; as an adult heading “home” to visit relatives for holidays and weddings and funerals and reunions and for absolutely no reason at all. But in all of those years, I never really “saw” what was right in front of my face. That drive between Effingham and Olney was simply either the last little bit of a drive to get to Olney, or the last little bit of a drive before we hit the interstate that would take us back to the city.

Yesterday, I really appreciated it for what it is…a beautiful, peaceful stretch of road that has the amazing ability to massage away knots from my shoulders and my mind. My drive to Olney will never be the same again.

My last stop of the day was in Effingham, where I sat at a white picnic table and ate a turtle sundae at Homewood Grill. A few minutes later, I merged onto interstate 70 leaving cows and the amber waves of grain far behind. Soon, my oldies CD’s were put back in their cases as I neared St. Louis and I was able to pick up a decent radio station.  On my way back into the city, I once again found myself sitting in traffic. As I inched across the bridge that spans the Mississippi separating Missouri from Illinois, I felt myself tensing up, and I began channel surfing on the radio to find out what was holding up traffic. Then, in an effort to bring back the feelings of peace I had felt just a few hours before, I turned the radio off, rolled down the window, and put in another oldies CD. I was ready to head home with a much lighter heart than I had when I left.

And realizing how good for my soul a weekend in Olney was, I vowed to myself that I will not let so much time go by before I visit again.

Home Health Care

I have been so negative with the things I have written lately. While I have been writing/speaking from my heart, I don’t feel good about what I’ve written. Not at all. I’ve strongly considered deleting my last few posts, but I talked myself out of it. Sometimes good, sometimes bad and sometimes, downright ugly…that is my life these days. If deleting the negative posts would delete the reasons I wrote them out of my life, I’d hit the delete button so fast I’d leave a sizzle mark on the delete key. But, since deleting the negative things I wrote won’t delete the negative things I wrote about, what’s the point? Maybe someday, I will look back on the thoughts that have poured from my mind and fingers this summer and think, “Wow, I came through all that with flying colors!”

 So today, I’m going to go back to being positive with sunshine and rainbows exploding around me like 4^th of July fireworks, and I am going to write about something good while I am riding on the back of my pet unicorn with a wreath of daisies atop my head.

I know, I gave this post a strange title, but it’s the first thing that popped into my head. And just a funny side note…when I typed “popped,” it originally came out “pooped.” Yes, that word would have been appropriate too as things often poop out of my head. I almost left the typo.

I don’t know what has gotten into me lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I am nesting. I’m not obviously, but I have definitely been in a “clean and organize and purge everything in my path” mood. (I’ve told my kids on several occasions that they should be very afraid of leaving their crap laying around). And it’s been just what I have needed, like a breath of fresh air blown into my soul. Cleaning the clutter and unnecessary things from my home is in a way helping me unclutter my mind, bringing the important things more clearly into focus.

Years ago, I used to relieve stress by going on a cleaning frenzy. Times of trouble were when I was most likely to clean out closets, cabinets and drawers, scrub and wax the kitchen floor and shower doors and wash curtains and baseboards and walls and blinds. I would even clean the leaves of my plants. Yes, times of stress were good, very good, for my home.

 But, as I’ve gotten older, I am more likely to curl up on the couch with a quilt and a big bowl of buttered popcorn and watch cheesy Lifetime movies while doing my very best to ignore the clutter and dirty floors and dust balls in the corners. My house has been very neglected these past few years as I have done the bare minimum to keep my family from living in squalor. Okay, that’s a little dramatic and inaccurate, however, I have definitely lowered my usual high standards and not been bothered by a little dust or unorganized cabinets and closets and piles of laundry the way I once was. My motto for the past few years has been “if the family has clean clothes and food on the table, all is good,” even if they are digging those clean clothes out of laundry baskets that are lined up in the hallway.

Which reminds me of a funny story. Years ago, my cousin Nancy, who is my Great Aunt Marion Kelly’s daughter, told me a story about how their life as kids was rather chaotic. There were 5 of them (kids, I mean) and their dad was a busy dentist. Their mom, one of the truly funniest most  joy-filled, loving women I have ever known, was a stay at home mom. I have no doubt she was one of the most fun moms among her peers, but she wasn’t the greatest housekeeper from things I’ve been told and heard and seen in old photographs. Nancy told me that once, she was over at a friend’s house, and her friend’s mother gave her a stack of neatly folded laundry and told her to go put it away in her dresser. Her friend said, “Why can’t I keep my clothes in a laundry basket like the Kelly’s do?”

I found that story so funny.  I wonder if someday, my children will tell silly stories like that about me. I doubt it. But I digress….

I used to take great pride in keeping my house in a condition that wasn’t perfection by any means, but it was always neat and tidy enough that if someone dropped by, I wouldn’t be embarrassed. Lately, those days have been LONG gone and sometimes, I’ve been embarrassed when I drop by.

For some reason, the tides have shifted, and now, I can’t seem to keep my house clean enough or organized enough. I’ve been cleaning out drawers and cabinets in the kitchen and bathrooms.  I’ve scrubbed windows inside and out. I’ve repainted scuffed baseboards and even cleaned nearly all of the clutter that typically accumulates in my dining room. I scour Pinterest looking for organization ideas.

 In short, while the stresses I’ve been dealing with right now have sort of wreaked havoc on my life, they’ve once again been very good for my house. It’s kind of strange, but I haven’t even looked upon anything I have been doing as a chore. I have rather enjoyed it. Some days on my drive home from work, I think about what I can organize when I get home. I know, there is something wrong with me, right?!

Clearing clutter and crud from my home has brought clarity to a lot of things. For one, it’s made me realize just how neglected it has been…how much needs to be done. I’ve paid attention to things I haven’t noticed for a long time…like scratched and marred baseboards in the dining room that need a fresh coat of white paint…like the bathroom cabinet that is really looking shabby and in dire need of a makeover. Like the cobwebs behind the blinds in the family room. 

Clearing the clutter and focusing on taking better care of my home has also made me look at it through fresh eyes and take note of things I love. Like the way the light from the sunrise shines through the window above my kitchen sink early in the morning. And the way my grandma’s and Aunt Mary’s crystal sparkles in the china cabinet after it’s been lovingly washed and arranged.

Cleaning and decluttering has inspired me to once again do little things to cozy up my house. I’ve bought some new houseplants for the first time in years, and I hung them from scrolly black wrought iron hangers in the doorway between the living room and dining room.

I decorated the blank wall above my desk with wall words that I bought months ago then put in a bag in a corner of the dining room and promptly forgot about.

 Cleaning out my china cabinet inspired me to take some of my favorite things from the dusty corners and put them where I can see them all the time.

In short, while my cleaning mission has resulted in some depressing thoughts about how much I’ve neglected the home that I once took such pride in keeping clean and welcoming, it has also made me love it in a whole new way. Yes, it needs new carpet. There are still 2 rooms that have an old wallpaper border that I would love to remove. My front porch needs to be painted, and so do the shutters and my front door. Long ago, I grew tired of the flowers I stenciled on our bathroom wall when Lauren was a newborn and I would love to re-do that bathroom.

But, along with the negative thoughts, or rather in spite of them, I have fallen in love with my house again. I’ve remembered how I felt walking through the front door 18 years ago giddy with excitement and overflowing with ideas for the blank, white canvas that was all mine. My house is well-worn, but it’s comfortable, and I am trying to embrace all that I love about it.

In the beginning of this tossing and cleaning process, I felt overwhelmed, like why bother doing anything at all when there is so very much to do? But the more trash bags I filled and carried out to the garage, the more focused I became. I made a list of all of the things I wanted to do. I have already crossed a few of them off, and I try not to stress about all that remains on that list. I know I will accomplish most of them eventually. If I don't, oh well. I’m tired of focusing on what is wrong and old and outdated, and I’m trying my darndest to focus on what is good and what I love about my house.

 Decluttering and cleaning the house has brought clarity to my mind as well. I’ve worked out a lot of things while tossing unnecessary crap that I’ve accumulated into giant black Hefty bags. I’ve done a great deal of writing this summer, which is the best way for me to sort and declutter all that jumbles up my brain, and it’s been really good for me. As I’ve sorted and waded through the debris of my mind, I’ve also mentally tossed things into a black trash bag. I’ve realized that while there is much that is wrong in my world, and I do need to work on those things and figure them out so I can deal with them, there is also much that is right. Not just right, but good. Very good. I’ve made a list of those things and put it in my wallet, pulling it out when I need to be reminded of them. Just as I’m tired of focusing on all that is wrong with my house, I’m also tired, so tired, of focusing on what is wrong with ME. I’m tired of thinking of all the things I do that make me a not-so-good wife/daughter/mother/employee/friend. And I’m trying my darndest to focus on the ways I am a good wife/daughter/mother/employee/friend. It sure isn’t going to be easy, but I’m setting out to prove to myself that I can do it. J I have some difficult hurdles to overcome in the very near future, but I have NO doubt that I am strong enough to take them on and fly over them without too many stumbles or falls that land me flat on my face. If that does happen, I really believe (at least for today!) that I will simply pick myself up, dust myself off, and carry on.

Yesterday, I had an enlightening conversation with a co-worker who told me I way overthink things. I know that I do, and no matter how hard I try not to, I can’t stop. I’ve been thinking a lot about some things she said to me, and I am quite certain that there will someday soon be a blog post about it. But for now, I think that overthinking doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, although my overthinking usually results in negative thoughts. Since I can’t turn off my brain with a switch the way I often wish that I could, I am going to find a way to turn my overthinking habit into something beneficial to me. I’m not sure just how I will do that, but again, I’m going to give it my best shot. Hopefully, my negative alter-ego will soon be banished forever because I do not like that person very much.