A good cry

Today I had a good cry ( as if there were such a thing…). Damn facebook got me again.

I have written about my son’s marriage.  You dream about your kids getting married, and if you are smart enough, you realize it is their day and will probably not be exactly what you planned.  And, you are okay with that, for the most part.

My son married a woman that doesn’t like us.  Period.  Finds fault in everything, yells, curses and stews like noone I have ever met.  And, loves my son, his daughter and works hard every day. Fights her own demons Im sure == and ignores us, rather than engaging in more drama.

Its a trade off, but for now, its working.

But today, facebook took me back to a video of a young couple’s wedding entrance.  Dancing, hugging, sunglasses.  Music, joy, laughter — bliss.  And I sobbed.  Yup, sobbed.  Pent up tears from their wedding 10 months ago?  Triggered by the happiness on the screen?  Maybe.  Mourning what could have been?  Probably.  Joes friends, and my sons in law would have loved this == I can picture each of them shaking down that aisle, celebrating.  But, it didnt happen.  Instead it was a “vanilla” wedding — banned from the bridal party, the celebrations and the preparation, our family attended, but did not participate.  And while we were there physically and in spirit, it was a sad day for the right side of the aisle.

And today it kind of hit me.

stumbling back in time…

I stumbled upon the pictures ) good ole Facebook) from my oldest grandchildren’s baptism today.  5 years ago we baptised the oldest two,in Silver Spring Maryland, where my oldest daughter was living.  There are hundreds of memories in those pictures, glimpses of dad in the fog that possessed him that day, George holding tightly to his children, and grandchildren, Ryan being hoisted into the air by the best pastor ever….

But what hit me, what smacked me and stroked me at the same time, was the bond between our children.  Solid, physical and spiritual, evident.  They have had their moments.  They have yelled at, avoided, ignored, used and hurt each other over the years, but in the end, in the clinch, in the moment when push comes to shove, they come through. They defend. They support and love each other, no matter what. They show up, kicking and screaming, but they show up.  We have heard, years later, of late night runs to shady stores to wire money to Joe, long conversations into the night about boyfriends or girlfriends or roommates, of phone calls to ex’s — warning them off, of “loans” and “gifts” and “borrowed uggs”.  We have seen them sit for hours, supporting each other after life events that rocked us all off our center and heard them scream until their throats are hoarse.  They have suffered through therapy sessions. visits to people they don’t want to see, college tours and they have, for the last 19 years, kept the pact they made to never tell me who broke the Nativity Set….

I love them more than life.  I respect them and I envy their closeness.  Most of all, I am somewhat calmed and reassured by the fact that they will have each other long after I am gone.  that they will support each other through anything, celebrate success and fight through the crap.

My babies.


snap out of it girl!

I started this blog, years ago, to advocate for issues and points I think are important.  I read back over it the other night and am ashamed to say, that for the most part, it has turned into a rant about whatever is pissing me off at the moment.

I apologize.

For the most part, I don’t think of myself as a complainer, or a downer.  However, reading this blog you might think otherwise.

I apologize.

Maybe I needed it to cleanse my soul, maybe after I wrote each of the pissed off posts I went out and did something positive , something helpful, something to advocate for right.

I hope so.

I will try to do better.  I dont tolerate self-absorbed women who blame the world or the ex or their mom or whoever for their issues.  I will work to not be that woman.

Oh, and if you go back and read some of my posts, please look for the light at the end of the tunnel.  It is always there, it is always positve and it always feels better.


wheres this little gem been?

So, this morning, skimming through my “on this day” page on Facebook, (Good Lord  what did we do without Facebook…) I stumble upon this little blog that I started years ago….( and then obviously became distracted and forgot ) .  Dont have time right now to review it but quite impressed with the little balloons I have climbing up the page….. Be back later…unless some shiny object distracts me…

This girl right here

is humbled with gratitude.  I look around, and though I complain sometimes , I know I am blessed beyond measure, lucky beyond my dreams and protected beyond understanding. .

My kids are healthy.  Physically and emotionally.  Bumps in the road, yes.  But solid, healthy and building strong futures.

My grandchildren are healthy.  Physically, developmentally and emotionally.  they laugh, cry, explore.  they smack each other and hug each other.  they take each other’s toys and bring each other gifts.  They call me grammy and melt my heart.

My husband is healthy. Present and involved.  Tonight he cooked dinner as I lay on the couch nursing a hurt back.  I complained — didnt like the pork chop or the rice.  When he went to pick up my medicine he brought home a nice fresh fruit salad — ,my number one favorite treat.

Blessed, this girl right here is.DSCN8745

night guest

My mother spent the night.  thunderstorms took out her power so we went over and picked her up.  Actually husband did, I was pulling branches off the road….

I have a new respect for those who work in the geriatric field.

Mom spends a bit of time here, but went room to room commenting “thats new, isnt it?” to every piece of furniture, carpet or knick knack she spotted ..Noooooo, Ive had that since our first house, since the second house,,,,Noooo, that stained glass has been hanging in my kitchen for 18 years.  yup.

She doesnt do steps, years of restless leg syndrome coupled with ” I dont want to walk” syndrome has left her legs weak and wobbley.  But my bedrooms are upstairs.  So I followed her up, impressed with her strength — she made it up there pretty well. I was concerned that she would see the pictures of her and my dad on the desk in the guest room and get upset, i was hoping that they would make her smile, but neither.  she didnt notice them.  She noticed the bookshelf, “is that new?” and the beleek lamp “thats beautiful” but not a glance at the pictures of the man she loved, who we lost 4 years ago.

Morning came early.  I get up around 6 to take a walk and spend some time knitting before getting ready for work.  she met me in the hall — I asked her to wait a second while I threw on a tee shirt and shorts, then we would get her down the stairs.


She didnt wait, of course.  Im in the bathroom, shirt half on, and I hear the “babump”.
“Oh Cindy, I fell, I hurt my knee.”

Opened the door to my room and there she sat.  perched on her butt on the landing — she either lost her footing or her knee went out.  Thank God she just did a hard sit down, and didn’t slide the whole way down the stairs.  the knee is fine, no swelling, we got her down the stairs without further excitement and she sits in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal.

I have a new respect for geriatric caregivers.

convoluted times

Last evening I attended, and participated in, an amazing event.  Young teachers and community leaders gathered to gether with youth and had roundtable discussions about education, and community and trust.  I left there uplifted, enamored with the people I had met and the resolve that resonated through the room .   We can make a difference.

And I returned home to turn on the television to see flashing lights and hear sirens.  A mass shooting in Charleston.  9 people dead, murdered at the hands of a young sick soul.  Where does a 21 year old find that much anger and hatred.  How does a church, where people are gathered in prayer, become a bloodbath.  And I am ashamed.  of my race.  of my country for allowing guns to be handed out like Star Wars litesabers, of the future that we are leaving to our children.

and I weep.  And I pray.

Damn Heroin

excuse my convoluted rambling today, and if you stopped in to catch a light hearted rambling about life, turn away friend, turn away.

Yesterday. on facebook, I read:” RIP” ……….. followed by the name of an old friend of my youngest daughter.  slid down the page and saw several other notes “you were the best man’, “always there to help someone out”, “I hope you finally found peace”.  No answers there, but a rumbling in my head that hinted the worst.  I called her, asked what had happened, and in that monotone that says she is processing something that is too large to process, she told me his story.
“Yeah, he had moved to California, was coming back, had been clean for a while, met up with someone, got ahold of something, OD’d and has been on life support for 48 hours.  They shut it off today and he died at noon, today.”

Damn it.  Another under thirty child with hope and a family, friends that love him and a future to run towards, died with a needle stuck in his arm.  Damn Heroin.  And this society that can figure out the answer to ANYTHING, we still have no cure, no preventative measures that work and hundreds of kids dying every year.

And, my daughter has lost another friend.  I have lost count, over the years, of the number of people she has lost. the tragedies that she has had to think through.  I am saddened, frustrated and scared for the future of this generation.

Damn Heroin.

changes and stages and afternoons in the sun

Are you freaking kidding me?  Diabetes?  Seriously?  Its like we took a chronological timeline of my dads medical history and dumped it into me.  His open heart surgery at 52.  My stents?  You guessed it, 52. Sleep apnea diagnosis shortly thereafter.  And now, at 57, “Cindy, looking at those numbers, we’re talking diabetes, just like your dad”.  Oh hell.  And like dad, overweight, busy as all get out but also very static lifestyle.  I work, behind a desk, my hobbies?  Knitting, spinning, sewing ( in all honesty I do use my serger standing up, does that count?),reading…playing with my grandbabies.  Most of these involve very little aerobic or strength building exercise….the good news is I don’t and never have smoked, my cholesterol is maintaining good numbers with the medication….but, diabetes?  Oh hell.

Answered the phone and relayed the visit to my husband.  When I got home tonight he was chopping a vegetable salad into our biggest salad bowl, rotisseried chicken on the side.  Assuring me it would be ok, we would lose weight together, walk together, eat better, together. And now, 2 hours later.  Im hungry.  hes asleep in his chair, lucky dog, but Im hungry.  time for some whole grain cereal and skim milk.  Yum.

So, I guess I have to take this seriously, walk a mile a day, watch my diet, lower stress.  Oh hell.