weight of the world…

This week has been rough … ( understatement, I know ) on many levels.  Nationally, the tragedy in Florida sucks the air out of me.

Personally, issues with my mom, my grandchildren…cause me to ache to be able to do more, to fix, to be present everywhere, all the time…

Physically I made it to the gym once.  Not good.  need to be there at least 3 times a week.

And, it is still February.



Oh for goodness sake…

Husband had back surgery Tuesday.  Recouping at home, fairly steady improvement so far but I have had some trouble getting him to get off the chair and walk….or move….

Left him for an hour today to get him some medicine and Valentines Gifts for the grandbabies.  Come home to find him hanging out the front door, in pajamas and robe no less, in the rain, holding a conversation with some kid ( ok, young man) holding an umbrella and cell phone.  As I leave the car Im like “can I help you?” to which this kid starts with “yes, Ms. L Im here to schedule an appointment…” and husband starts in with ” Im gonna get him to give us a price on 5 windows. ” I’m like

“WHOA!  You, get your butt in the house, its raining and you had BACK surgery 4 days ago.”


“YOU– goodbye.  We are not standing in the rain with an unsolicited salesman discussing windows”.

Husband knows the look on my face and shuts the door.  This simple kid makes a call to the “office” and is trying to get me to set up an appointment.  Then he asks if he can help me carry my packages in.  Uh NO.  It took me no less than 5 minutes to get this child to head back down the sidewalk.

At which point I grab my 7 candy hearts, 5 stuffed animals and 2 lego minis and stumble up the steps.  My husband had locked the door.  Both locks.  No way this guy was getting in.  Or me.

Found the key and got in the house, soaking wet to have him announce:  “you dont trust anybody.  charities that call the house, people who knock on the door, you dont trust anybody.”  I about fell out.

Time to cut him back on his meds I think.

I should be…

at the beach.  There is work to be done at the beach house — pipes burst, removation is just beginning….

But I am where I am supposed to be.  Sitting on the couch watching Rio with my 4 year old grandson, home sick with a nasty cold.  Worrying about my youngest who is on her way to get an ultrasound before they schedule surgery.  Stressing over my husband’s upcoming surgery on his back  — grateful that my doctor appt. yesterday went well.  Wondering how I will supervise the reconstruction of our beach house, care for my husband after surgery and how I am going to help my daughter get two boys to school and home again and care for her after her surgery.  REALLY glad I retired because 2018 would have gotten me fired !

24 hours…

yesterday at 7:25  am the phone rang.  Daughter in law had locked her and granddaughter out of house, and car.  Ran up there — slippers and all , let her in and took sweet granddaughter to her aunts house to catch the school bus.  Put all 3 kids in my car and discussed mermaid pillows and the woes of Monday.

noon.  The phone rings.  Son asking if I can pick said granddaughter up at the bus stop at 4.  Daughter in law is in a meeting until 4.  Of course.  did the grocery shopping, finished the bills, watched ten minutes of news….headed to the bus.  Spent a few minutes with oldest daughter, discussing dinosaurs with 3 year old half dressed grandson ( this child hates shirts) and watching her dog steal socks from the laundry basket and eat duplos. walked up to the bus stop, gathered the three of them off the bus, chatted about recess antics and bus aides and let them back to the house.  Grabbed a pizza left over from birthday party to take to son’s house, buckled granddaughter into car and drove her home.  Son and daughter in law and youngest grandson were already there — spent a few minutes discussing “whats that” with the baby.

5:30.  Meet youngest daughter and son in law for dinner ( kids eat free on Mondays!) both grandsons wired up — the older ( all of 6 years old ) celebrating his first wrestling tournament ( took second) and the younger (4) excited to be at a restaurant with macaroni and cheese AND ice cream.

8:00 pm.  Hit the couch.  Blessed with the realization that I saw, hugged and talked to all 7 grandchildren in one day!


7:20 am. : Standing, half asleep, in front of the coffee pot..  phone wakes me.  Son asking if  I can pick up granddaughter and take her to aunts to get the bus.  Uh, no.  I could get her and take her to school, but no way I can get dressed and get to her and get her there by bus time….”Its ok mom, we will figure it out”.

7:24 am.  Phone rings.  Youngest daughter.  her youngest is up coughing all night…can I watch him?  Can I take him to doctor?  Of course, bring him to me…….


Whew.  This is pretty much why I retired — to help with the kids in Winter.  But, Lord, what a 24 hours!

The search for normal

We drive our grandkids to the boardwalk.  Lights and rides and cheap stuffed animals surround us — then a young man runs out of a storefront — “Stay the F— out of my store, you hear?”

We search for normal.

We sit poolside, toucan floats and cheesy pizza at our side.  I check twitter, only to learn of another shooting in our home town.

We reach for normal.

We run to the ocean edge, scooping shells and searching for sand crabs for bait.  I hear an elderly couple speaking of the newest health care changes being considered.

We yearn for normal.

I can not help but worry that my grandchildren, aged 8 to 2, will never really understand this normal that I look for.  They are growing up without peaches with a quarter inch of fuzz, without open doors and barbecues.  They hear of shootings and presidential “tweets”.  Will they be able to sit on their front step, a half hour before sunrise and smell that sweet morning nectar, see the golden rays jump up behind the neighbors house?  More and more I doubt it.  And more and more I search for pieces of light to share with them, pictures and memories of days gone by when the ocean was clean, the rivers and creeks safe to swim in, woods were for exploring and friends spent the night.

I cry for normal.

hell week…

I should not complain.

Seriously should not. But, whatever, here it comes.  A couple weeks ago our daughter confirmed that she needed to have minor surgery.  Now, “minor” is a relative  term.  My.Daughter.Surgery.  Those words do not blend well, so I had to go into mom mode, reminding myself that it was NOT about me, that I needed to be a resource and a source of strength.  That I had to pray and accept the healing even before I saw it manifested.  That I had to eat and sleep and not hover.  That 3 phone calls a day with “how are you feeling?” is not appropriate or acceptable. I bought her new pajamas and slippers, made a casserole, took the day off work.  “Why mom?  Why are you taking off work?”  Oh, I don’t know…..maybe because MY DAUGHTER IS HAVING SURGERY.  “Just in case you need me for something that day”.  “No, I’ll be fine”.  Turns out her husband couldn’t get off that day and I was needed to do transport, sit in the waiting room drinking nasty coffee == but I was also afforded the wonderful sight of the doctor telling me that everything went well, everything looked great.  Score!

Which would have been enough to make it a rough week, right? Wait for it, it gets better…

3 days before surgery we had our first snow storm of the season.  Husband and son in law decided it was a good day to chop wood.  (You can imagine what is coming, right?).  Off they went.  I did the grocery store run, stocked up on soup and chili ingredients, came home and cuddled up on the couch with coffee and my knitting.  It occurred to me around noon, when there were 3 inches of snow on the  ground and wicked cold, that I hadn’t heard anything.  So I called.  Husband assured me that they were loading the last truck and he would be home for lunch……. 2 hours later I tried his phone and the son in law….no answer… another hour passed, I finished knitting the mittens, and I tried him again.  “Yeah, Im getting some xrays done”.  WTF?  “I fell, I think I broke a rib”.  Truth is, he broke  two, and had been in the ER for 3 hours, I mean, why call me?  Why should I know my husband of 38 years and one day ( don’t even ask about the missed steak dinner reservations for that evening ) was in the ER?

And so began hell week. A week of cooking, shifting blankets, propping pillows, buying coffee, hugging babies, heating casseroles, handing out medicines….worrying.  Scolding.  Threatening to call an ambulance on Wednesday when he had decided he could sleep in the bed and then we couldn’t get him out of it.  45 hour work week…

So, last night I fell asleep at 7:00 pm.  exhausted.  And, of course I awoke at 3 am.  I’m gonna need a nap.

Christmas true

When you parent you always wonder….will IT matter…?  IT can be anything from using the time out chair to a trip to the beach to an extra story at night… to any of a multitude of moments that wrap themselves into the bundle that is parenting.  Will IT matter?

This Christmas has been  a mix of memories and precursors,  misplaced Christmas dishes and a house too small to decorate the way I like to … which got me to thinking, will it matter?

Last week, I took my oldest grandchild ( 7 years old ) Christmas shopping.  We’ve done it every year since she was born.  Our son raised her alone the first 3 1/2 years of her life, mom walked out when she was 5 months old and left him with a mortgage, a dog she had to “rescue” and this precious little girl.  So when Christmas came that first year, she was 10 months old and her daddy had done everything he could to make it a Christmas like he had always imagined he would have when he became a father.  But, there was no one to buy him gifts so baby Ava and I went shopping.  Everything she touched or smiled at I bought.  He got a lego set, a pink polo shirt and, if I remember correctly , a gazing ball for the back yard.  And so it began, the yearly Christmas shopping trip with our girl.  When we went back  to her house last week to wrap the presents she wrapped and bagged and wrote the tags. She looked at me and said, “so which of these are you taking to your house?” and I explained that they were staying at her house for her to give to family.  Her face broke a bit when she looked at me and said “wait, we’re not going to your house this year , you know to open all the presents and eat and everything??  the whole family?”  As I explained to her that “Yes, of course you will all come to my house, you will bring your presents then, everyone will be there” — she smiled and continued her task.  And I knew, without a doubt, that IT mattered, the yearly Christmas traditions that are so much work and go way too fast, that result in huge piles of paper and misplaced pieces — that I always wonder if the kids are coming to just to appease me — they matter to Ava, and probably to all of them.

This morning my son came to pick up a gift for Ava that had been delivered here.He walked in and surveyed the piles of gifts under the tree.  He smiled and said, “All red and white paper this year!  It looks like a giant candy cane, awesome.”  And, again, IT mattered.  The buying and wrapping, the clutter and  ribbons, matter.  A candy cane.  35 years old and he sees the Candy cane in a pile of Christmas gifts.  It matters.

Two weeks ago the youngest, 30 years old, called to ask me what I was doing on Christmas Eve.  Our Christmas celebrations depend on when Ava is in town and what years the oldest daughter has to go to New Jersey to celebrate with inlaws….so it was a fair question.  I said “not sure, hanging out, maybe church.”  She immediately suggested a “7 fishes” celebration at her house — just us and my mom , everyone else had plans.  She and her husband could have planned any number of parties or events for them and their kids, but they chose to spend Christmas Eve with us, her parents.  It matters.  All the years of gathering the family together at our house to play Christmas carols and open gifts, to eat and sometimes drink too much…matter.  And, when it came to be her turn and she finally had a house big enough to feel comfortable entertaining in — It mattered. Then when her brother called to tell us what time his Christmas Eve celebration was starting, we all adjusted times so we could do both.  and the traditions will continue.   IT matters.

On the 18th.  all the kids and all the spouses and all 7 grandchildren gathered at oldest daughter’s house to bake cookies.  They do it every year, sometimes not everyone can make it, but this year it was full out everyone.  Sprinkles and dough, ovens dinging and me and George just standing there grinning.  It matters.  All the years of gathering them in the kitchen and baking cookies and breads matter.  And now, they continue it with their children, and since they are lucky enough to have siblings that they love, they do it together, bringing those cousins together to build memories.

I wonder sometimes if their dad and I are burdens, or insignificant in their lives, but this season has reminded me that it matters.  We matter.

Merry Christmas everyone.


thanks wordpress

WordPress sent me a note today.  I registered to blog with them 4 years ago….not sure how that feels, like yesterday or several lifetimes ago….

I write less lately.  Please don’t mistake that for a lack of opinions :).  It is the result of spending too many hours at a computer screen during the day.  this job of mine has turned into its own sort of monster.  My eyes, and brain, are tired at the end of the day.

This retirement thing seems to have taken a leave of absence.

I promised myself that the job would be “fun”. that i would not slip into old habits of caring too much, working too much, worrying too much.  Right.  There are great moments of joy in my work, but the push is palpable:  do more, bring in more funding, bring in more schools, up your numbers, be the best supervisor ever, understand millennials, don’t let people walk on you, check on this and  this and this.  I’m exhausted.

But, this too shall pass.  In the scheme of things I have nothing to complain about.  Life is full, the beach house is awesome, you know the drill.

However, I am going to do some serious thinking after the first of the year.  Maybe it’s time for some changes….

Oh, and Happy Anniversary WordPress.  Glad you stuck around.




It would be easier if…

my kids lived far apart.  If it took a plane ride or a road trip to get them together it would be easier to see them apart.  but it is not space, but choice, that is tearing our family down.  My kids grew up incredibly close.  less than 5 years separated the three of them, and our house was full of laughter and noise and tears and hugs….

They grew up and became adults.  Life got in the way and we had some ups and downs — but they had each other.  we had barbecues and family dinners.  Family vacations when all of us — 12 of us — stayed in one house for a week or more.  Boat trips and impromptu beerpong in the back yard.

But then it changed.  one of them has become joined to someone who has a power trip like non other.  And it has torn my kids apart.  Rarely do I get to see the 7 grandchildren together, to plan a party or a dinner and know they will all be here.  I miss it.  And, maybe it was inevitable, but it makes me sadder than I can say.