So...!?!

It's time to turn a corner for me.

When my brother called to tell me that my mom had passed on, my world kind of stopped.  My body/heart/brain decided this was all just too much, too much to handle all at once and it kind of went into survival mode. It was a waiting thing, waiting for her obituary, waiting for a plan, for a memorial, waiting to feel.  Waiting for it to be over.

I remember saying to my sister, "once we get through our memorial, it'll be done.  It'll be over and I'll be ok".  I am.  I'm ok.  

So!?!

Now what?

We move on.  There is so much out there for me right now!  Halloween, my beautiful boy turns NINE soon, Thanksgiving and Christmas and my holiday time off.  This really is my favorite time of the year and I'm going to sit back, smile and enjoy it...while planning a kitchen remodel.  Seriously,  I hope to get back into my Reiki, take some more classes and get back into my meditations again. I wasn't kidding about the kitchen remodel either.  The days of having only 3 feet of workable counter space are coming to and end - as well as washing dishes by hand!

And there is work.  For real, I love my job and I am really looking forward to what is coming up, to see where it takes meand to see where the path leads with this company.  I realize I could easily become a statistic and well...there are no guarantees anywhere anymore and should that happen to me?   You know...that is God's plan.  He'll lead me where I should be.

How about this family thing?  I've got it pretty good here, these people seem nice enough.  I bet if I put in a little bit more time and effort,this could be even better.  We have a few trips planned for next year and I'm looking forward to that time.  More smiles, a lot of laughs. Hopefully some great memories too.  I think I'll keep them!  See how it goes.

So!?!

Onward and upward.  Away we go!  Bigger and better than ever before!  With a smile and some laughs.

I am not a victim

I stood in the cemetary with my sisters, and my brother again, looking over the now three graves...my dad, my sister and  my mom.   I thought to myself, "Here I am again."  

The first time I was here was November 1st, 1983.  The night of my sister's funeral.  I was 10.  We didn't have a graveside service for her but, as I found out much later, we all went to the cemetary that night, at different times to say another good bye.

We all came back here together in September 1999 when I was 26 to bury my dad.

As I stood there with everyone this time, I kept thinking, "I'm 41.  And I'm here, again.  41.  The third time and now burying my mom.  It's not fair.   I'm too young to bury my parents, to lose my sister.  It's just not fair!  I don't want to be an orphan!"

Notice I didn't say victim?

Because I'm not.  

I'm okay. I don't feel sorry for myself and no, I still haven't shed many tears losing my mom.  There are some who think I should break down in a flood but, it's not time.  I don't know when I will but, I do know it will come when I least expect it.  Or not.  It might not come at all.  Me not shedding a slew of tears doesn't mean I didn't love my mother or that I wanted anything from her death, it simply means I haven't processed it all yet.

In my heart of hearts I believe God gives us challenges.  Some for us to learn, some for us to teach, some for us to help another.  I don't believe He intended for us to walk around this Earth pointing out our own hurts to others to make them feel for us.  I think He wants us to learn and use what we have learned to move forward, and share our experience to help someone else.

I have experienced much in this short time, yes.  It's not what I have experienced that makes me who I am but, what I have learned from it, what I have drawn, how I have moved on or grown.

I am not a victim.  I have experienced hurt and loss but, that isn't all that I am.  I have experienced joy and happiness too.  I like to think I am a combination of all those things.  Victim is not in there.  

As I hugged my sisters, my brother, and listened to the pastor with his guitar, I am thankful to have them, my family, as different as we are.  They hold my past, my memories, my home and my history.  They are each a key to my parents and a part of them like me.

There is one plot left at that cemetary and I truly hope it's not filled in my lifetime.  I'll visit my family the next time I'm up home, and I'll cry a little for my family that I miss so much, I'll wish my sister were here to laugh and to tease my brother with me, I'll wish to see my dad's eyes sparkle  with pride for me just one more time, and the next time, I'll add a wish for my mom and I'll miss her too...I'm sure...a few tears will fall just for her.

I'm not a victim. I don't need you to feel sorry for me.  I don't need pity.  There is so much more to enjoy when you move or look forward.  When I miss my sister or my parents, I miss the good things about them.  I don't dwell on the loss. I want Jacob to look back at me and remember the fun we had, not me being sad and bitter for my losses. I don't want him to remember a victim.

"Move the F* On"

"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened...or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on"  ~Tupac Shakur

Odd selection for a quote, I know but, I'll make my point.  You'll see.

It's been a little over two weeks since my mom passed away.

My husband keeps asking me if I'm ok.  My in-laws find it odd that I don't need anything, any help. People don't understand that my mother and I weren't close.  They can't imagine going two years without speaking to their mother. No one really knows what to say to me.

Neither do I.

I've deleted and restarted this post at least ten times, no matter how I try, I cannot find words to adequately explain to you all of the things this woman, my mother wasn't.  Because you see, she wasn't your mom, you probably had a great mom and can't believe that any mom could ever be like mine.  I'm happy for you.  Seriously, I am happy for you. I'm not being a dick.

I have a handful of good memories with my mom and maybe one day, I'll be done being pissed off enough to share them.  Why am I pissed off?  Because she's gone and she'll never be sorry.  She'll never apologize.  She can never undo any of the damage.  She's gone and I'm left with this. Whatever "this" is.

These last couple of weeks, I've done a lot of people watching.  Watching how they act, how they treat other people, their kindness, or their truths.  What makes them laugh or how they handle tragedy.  I see people just being people.  Some are kind.  Some cruel.  Some are sly, some are direct.  I watched 51 people lose their jobs this week and each one of them reacted differently.  One thing I did come to understand, these people that are left are just here.  I'm not connected to them.  Even those by blood or by marriage, the choice is mine.  I can choose.  I can like them or not.  I don't have to be friends with anyone.  I don't have to like anyone.  The choice is all mine.

I'm not an over analyzer.  I'm more of an "it is what it is" person.

I've been looking at all of these pieces on my floor for a very long time.  You see, this girl had a daddy that liked jigsaw puzzles and this girl LOVED to help him.  We'd start with the edges, turning all the pieces over, trying this one, trying that one, and sometimes we'd come across one that we just couldn't fit anywhere - we'd just put it aside and come back to it later.  I think I'm kind of done with that approach.  I'm done with trying this piece or that, hoping it fits, trying to bring the picture together when the other pieces keep changing in front of me.  I'm done with chameleon puzzles.

Call me a quitter.  Say I gave up.  Maybe I am, in your eyes.

In my eyes, I know I am a fighter.  I've only changed the fight.  I'm fighting for me.  I'm leaving "the pieces on the floor" and I'm "moving the fuck on".

Indifferent

in·dif·fer·ent

adjective

1. 1.

   having no particular interest or sympathy; unconcerned.

   
   
2. 2.

   neither good nor bad; mediocre.

It used to matter.  I used to be someone who had to have everything just right,  Every I was dotted, every T was crossed.  Maybe I thought if I did it all correctly, maybe I'd be worthy of a compliment, an acknowledgement, a pat on the back.  I get those things now, here and there (and they make me rather uncomfortable) but, somehow they don't seem to mean as much as they should.  Maybe I've become indifferent.

I like to post the definition of a word.  I like to look at the word and let its meaning sink in.  Indifferent.  How does one get here?  How does one become indifferent?

Too many years of being the strong one?

Too much loss?

Too much forgiveness?

Too much hurt?

Too many years lifting up the victims?

Being insignificant?

Being too young?

Too much pain?

Not enough recognition?

Not enough concern?

All of the above and then some?

I don't think there is any one, single answer but, I'm sure there are many combinations.

I believe we all have our challenges in life, we all have our disappointments, things that haven't turned out as we'd wanted or even as we'd hoped.  I believe we all have lessons to learn here on this Earth as well as lessons to teach the people we meet.  I was asked a week or so ago if I was stuffing down my emotions, burying them as opposed to dealing with them.  I said no, of course not!  And then I had to think about it...was I pushing them down?  Was I avoiding the pain?

After that conversation, I now know I'm not a stuffer.  My emotion surfaces whether I want it to or not.  Laughter, tears, it doesn't matter.  I can't hold it back - or at least not very well.  If I'm mad, I know I'm mad, if I'm hurt, my tears will roll.  In this case, I just had nothing.  There is nothing left. I knew it was coming.  Indifferent.

For me, everything has always been tough.  Family, friends, relationships, people - all of it.  I've simply experienced too much in my short 40 years.  Enough lying, enough loss, enough deceit, enough anger, enough backstabbing, enough disappointment, enough, enough, enough.  You see folks, I've reached the end of my rope.  I've tied a knot and I'm able to swing.  I have become indifferent.  I have cried my tears.  I have hurt most of my hurt. I don't care about the outcome anymore.  I don't care who does what to whom anymore.  My faith is stronger than ever and my God will lead me right to where I need to be, with or without you.  I really, simply have no interest any more.  I have no tolerance for your drama, your whining and your refusal to accept responsibility for yourself and the decisions you have made.

Indifferent.  Having no particular interest or concern.  Here we are and from here we'll go.

No such thing!

“Let someone love you just the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.”   ~ Marc Hack


My sister (and it doesn't matter which one, she knows) shared this quote today and as quotes often do, it made me think...


Love, flaws, incapability...and to believe I must hide those about myself, well, to tell you the truth, I'm not good at hiding and I'm not perfect.  I am flawed, my family is flawed, my parents are flawed - and if you don't already know it, you are flawed too.  Can I put an exclamation after that period?


It seems so many of us are struggling with our inner demons these days.  So much talk of depression, of sadness and we all have that to some degree, I guess maybe some of us are simply better able to (or more capable) pull ourselves up and out of it than others. It doesn't mean that I am better than you because I can do that - and I pray to tell you there are some days when it is REALLY hard!  I'm not better than you because I can sit at a computer and type my feelings in words or stories and you can't.  I'm not any better at all.  I'm just me. You are just you.  If God wanted us all to be the same, he would have created us the same.


It's not as easy for me as some may think.  I have my down days, I have my struggles.  I'm 41 years old and I rarely speak of my childhood and recently, some of it has come around to smack me square in the face.  I've had a few days where it's pushed me right down into the dirt.  It takes time for the mind to sort, some never do, and process all of the information swirling around and at times it takes the heart and the actions even longer to catch up.  Thoughts/words/emotions/expression/remediation are not always immediate results.  They take a little time to form.


I'm learning to be a better person.  I'm learning to listen more and speak less.  To give more than I take, not to tear people down but, to lift them up.  To talk rather than yell. To not judge or form opinions of others. I'm learning to just be and enjoy.  I'm trying to make this my normal.


I have to tell you, there is no such thing as perfect.  Perfect does not exist.  I know I'm not it.  I'm not the perfect sister, daughter, mother, or wife.  My house is not perfect, my car is a mess, and I can't grow a damn thing in my yard.  But, one thing that I am, is me.  Just me.  I am silly and weird.  I'm serious and I'm goofy.  I'm a lot of fun and a pain in the ass!   I do a lot of great stuff and even more really dumb shit!  But, you can love me, or not.  You can spend time with me, or not.  You can laugh with me or think I'm an idiot.  You can be my friend or not.  It's not that important to me.   It's just not.


In the end, when the sun goes down, I am who I am and you'll be who you are.  If we don't mesh, we don't mesh.  And that's ok.  Will our lives be forever changed because we're not what we have deemed as perfect.  I don't think so as I believe there is no such thing in this world as the perfect this or that, can't we just stop looking for it?  Please, can we?

41

I think I hit the ground running after vacation.  I'm pretty sure I've paused now.

I'm 41.

The week going into 41 was horrible.  Probably one of the worst weeks of my life.   I was going to work early every day so I could get home for Jeremy to go to work every day - 6 days for him that week - only one day off.  We came home, had to stop for a moron that hit a deer, maimed it and drove off, waited for the sheriff to come, peed in some strangers bathroom while waiting for the sheriff,  hurry like hell home, unpack the car, take showers, change clothes, ran to a graduation party, unpack every thing we unpacked, did laundry, worked, shuffled our kid, got a new roof (that's now leaking), the washing machine died, bought a new one, I had to come home one day and work here so Jeremy could go in, we had company both weekends (don't misunderstand - I loved that!) and had an anniversary party on the night of my birthday knowing Jeremy couldn't go with me!  With zero celebration of my birthday together.  Jacob and I stopped to see Jeremy for lunch and my order was even wrong.  I cried in the restaurant. Everything was wrong.  Holy Shit!  Can I pack anything else into that shitty fucking week!?!

Did I mention the lack of sleep last week?   Most every night I was up past midnight and awake for work by 5/6 AM.  All week. Plus the sleep I missed on vacation (how about all the emails I answered at 2/3 AM - on vacation).  Friday night I was so wound up, I took 3 nighttime acetaminophen and...it was after 1:30AM the last I saw the clock. I was up at out of bed by 7:30.

By the time I got to my brother's party, which I knew was the last thing I had to do for the week, I was done.  Burned out.  Brain fried.  I was an emotional disaster!  My sister-in-law is one of those people who you hug and you just don't want to let go...I hugged her that night and it all just fell out!  The tears just ran and ran! With every hug, they ran a little harder.  My brother, my sisters - more and more tears.  Ugh!  I should have stayed home!  No, I'm glad I went.  I'm so sorry I worried everyone.  I'm ok.   

I did finally sleep Saturday night after the party. I slept hard.  I knew that was my end.  The end of an awful week. The end of being 40.  

Thank you everyone for the birthday wishes. True. Turning 41 wasn't the best birthday I'd ever had.  And that's ok.  Maybe you shouldn't cry on your birthday     But. I felt more loved and more cared for on this birthday. I saw almost all of my siblings again this birthday.  And my son took me out to lunch.  Sometimes, we need to experience the not-so-good to see all the good we do have.  

Here's to 41.  

Ludington Vacation Day 5:

I got my wish.  I wanted one rainy day on this vacation. One day to be lazy, to read, to have family time and this was the day. The most inconvenient day for it to happen but, I did get my wish.  You see, I've been waiting for years, YEARS to get Jeremy and Jacob down to watch a big ship come through Manistee.  I used to watch with my dad and well...when you see just how close we are to Algoway here, you'll understand.

My favorite spot for watching was empty. We had waited over an hour for her to get underway.  It was raining and the three of us were quite wet.  But, this is my favorite shot - when her bow just peeks out from the bend.

And the bridge starts to open.

Almost there.

Coming through!

This pair of ducks swam across the channel just a little before the ship came through.  Jacob was a little nervous they wouldn't make it 

My boys and their first ship!

There were a few deckhands moving about and Jacob waved to them all, calling out "Have a safe trip!". Every one of them waved back and shouted 'hello'. They're so close you can see them smiling!

So much to see and take in.  I'm so thankful to those of you who helped me make this happen!

Have you ever seen a waterlogged porcupine living on the beach?

Also on this trip, my son got his very first Big Al's pizza.  Look at the excitement on that face!

Momma and daddy got one too!  Yum!

And our brown dog, she stayed warm and dry in our cabin.  She missed us so much though, she made sure to secure her spot in my bed for the night!

Ludington Vacation Day 4:

Quiet day today. Jacob and the kids finally got a chance to get in the lake and swim in the morning. I didn't have a camera with me.  :(

Big Daddy went out fishing and caught his first pike!  He went back into the lake as he had a little more growing up to do! The pike, not Daddy!

Jacob took a boat ride in the evening while we just hung out in the lawn chairs. There was a lot of that done today!

I did have to take a run into town and saw this beauty on our road.  She didn't spook.  Just watched my every move.

Only a few more days here.  I'm enjoying the unplanned, unscheduledness of this week. It has been nice to not have to make any decisions, attend any meetings,  worry about bedtimes or anyone getting to school on time. It's good to just be and enjoy!

Ludington Vacation Day 3:

We woke up this morning with no plans for the day.  A quick Facebook post from my nephew changed it all!  The freighter Manitowoc that we had missed coming into Manistee was due to head out of Ludington around noon. We loaded up three of the kids and went into town.

Growing up in Manistee, watching these huge ships come in/go out was almost just a regular thing.  I didn't realize how special it was until I left!

When we got there she was still unloading.  Jacob and the others watched for a bit but, you know...this need for immediate results in these kids is rather ahem...annoying.  10 minutes = "It's hot.  Can we go?"

I blabbed off some little tidbit facts I somehow managed to hang onto over the decades of NOT watching while she finished unloading.

She almost headed straight for us!

 

On the way out!

After nearly boring them to death with the ship, the kids wanted to head to the local children's museum.

Sandcastles. Get it?

It was one of the better children's museums we have visited.

An exhibit of the car ferry - the Badger.

And a real airplane!

Kelsey did a lot of this:

She's enjoying the fresh air, lots of walks and all the treats and kisses from the kids.  They have a "all dogs must be leashed" rule here and she HATES it!  At home, she roams the yard with us in freedom. She not used be leashed or tied  all the time.  :(

Speaking of treats and not used to...these are on ice for tonight. 

For use here tomorrow night.

Every night has ended with our group around the little fire pit.  Some nights bursting with laughter, some a little somber.  It's good to be together, our family. Jeremy and I are settled, not running off in different directions - now it's Jacob always running off to play.  It's good. I'm glad we came up to do this. 

Ludington Vacation Day 2:

Day 2 started with a walk to the lake - too chilly for us to swim but our brown water dog retrieved the stick a few times just like she was born to do!

We had a birthday in our group yesterday and with a few hiccups (involving a blown radiator hose, a tow truck, and a slight repair job - not to either of our vehicles!) managed to surprise her with a cake.  I LOVE to be a part of those shenanigans!

We also checked off one thing on our to -do list on Day 2.  Lunch/ice cream at House of Flavors (a local establishment).

Jeremy and Jacob split the Hot Fudge Brownie Sundae and I opted for a scoop of carrot cake ice cream (cream cheese flavored ice cream with chunks of carrot cake).  Yum!

Jacob and his sundae.

And they're done!

Kelsey enjoying her outside time.  So much to see, smell and bark at!

As I mentioned yesterday, we have The World's Smallest Shower.  Jeremy was kind enough to back in and show you just how small.  

All this and still plenty of time to relax!  :)

Ludington Vacation Day 1:

We finished baseball season with funday, packed up both vehicles - one with all of our stuff and the other with the kid, the dog, and me and trekked off to Ludington.  Kelsey paced the car for most of the trip and every 10 miles or so Jacob asks "How much longer?"  Lucky Daddy was alone in his car!

After settling into our cabin which will always be remembered for having the World's Smallest Shower, we made a list of things we needed from town.  On the way back, Jacob saw smoke from the car ferry and since we're on vacation and we missed the freighter in Manistee earlier, we parked and watched the Badger go out.  

I'm looking forward to this week. Lots of R&R on our schedule, a few things I hope we can do - I hope that work out to do.  Mostly, I just hope we have a week we remember - and not only for The World's Smallest Shower!

It really does take a village...

The old African proverb, "It takes a village to raise a child".  You can read more about this proverb here.

I'm sitting here feeling guilty because I nor Daddy could accompany Jacob on his field trip today.  I know not all moms and dads can make it to everything but I, being the child whose parents NEVER volunteered, always promised myself I'd make it to most everything and contribute as much support as I can.  And I do. For the very first time, I couldn't swing this one.

I asked Jacob about the trip the other night and he, as a male gave me ZERO information.

And this is where my village comes in.  I've said it hundreds of times, I'm always grateful for our village.  I have met some AWESOME moms!  Awesome!  And I went to these moms because I was worried about sending my kid to the zoo with money.  I wasn't worried that he'd spend the money, I was worried he'd lose the money or someone would take advantage of his trusting nature (by the way - I am not expecting any of that money to return to me).  I had him all set up to hang with one of my mom friends and her son only to find out this morning - from this non-detail talking boy child - that they were already paired up!  Had I known, I could have just talked to this mom with zero worry!

Back to my village.

I remember when we first moved here, first got Jacob, I was so scared I'd never make friends, never meet people.  Someone said to me, "Don't worry, once he starts school you'll get to know all kinds of moms and you'll make friends really fast!"  I thought she was NUTS!

You know what?  It's true.  I volunteered for a few things in the school, helped a few moms with classroom things and I did!  I met some really great moms!  We started in sports and I met more really great moms and a few really cool dads too!

All my worry this morning was for naught.  Jacob is paired up with another really great mom friend and I can work a little easier today.

I remember being a kid and going to the grocery store with my mom, I'd get so aggravated because it seemed she knew EVERYONE!  Before I would agree to go with her, I always make her promise she wouldn't talk to anyone!  Now, I'm THAT mom.  Jeremy often says to me "Who was that?  How do you know them?" I just do!  I'm building my village.

Thank you - Ursula, Heather, Sarah, Mindy, Tanya, Kalynn, Barb, Amy, Dennis, Jamie and all the other moms & dads that are a part of my village. I hope you know you can count on me as part of yours!

The Soldier - Memorial Day 2014

The Soldier

It is the soldier, not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the soldier, not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.

It is the soldier, not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the soldier,
who salutes the flag,
who serves under the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
who allows the protester to burn the flag.
By Charles M. Province, copyright 1970, 2010

Thank you to all Soldiers for your service and dedication to our country.

Thank you PFC Daniel Benson Nolff - who gave his life in service of our country on October 29, 1966

We also thank the members of our family who fought for freedom under our flag.

Claude E. Harper (May 20, 2013)  -- POW WWII

Henry "Butch" Nolff Sr. (July 4, 2003) -- Vietnam

Wilbur "Web" Elenbaas (Sept. 4, 1999)  -- Korea

Larry Hagen (Dec. 26, 2008)  -- Korea

Raymond A. Elenbaas (May 16, 2014) -- Korea

John L. Coleman (July 24, 1994) -- WWII

Arthur A. Elenbaas (March 10, 2011) --  WWII

Clayton H. Elenbaas (April 6, 2001)  -- WWII

Gordon F. Elenbaas (November 8, 1999) --  WWII

Richard Elenbaas (Sept. 4, 1970) -- WWI

Those who also served.

J. Alan Coleman, USMC

Don Harper, US Army

Bill Harper, US Air Force

As well as those currently serving.

Jaz Livingstone -- USAF

Amanda Coleman -- US Army National Guard

Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored.  ~Daniel Webster

To Live A Good Life...

I have some notes written down and yet I'm not even sure how to begin.  I've learned and thought so much this past week and it's churning over and over, around and around in my mind.  I still don't know where to go or what to do with what I have.  I only know that writing it is what I need to do.  I'm thankful for "copy" and "paste" to help me get this right...or maybe I'll be lucky enough to get it on my first try!

My week started off with a funeral.  I realize that sounds rather blunt and well, I find most things in this life aren't sugar coated for us.  My week started off with a funeral.  My dad's baby brother passed away after a short battle with cancer.  He was on this Earth for 80 years and worked in finish carpentry most of his life.  He volunteered with his church and his community as often as he could - sometimes even when times were tough and funds were low...

My mind wandered off a bit at this point of the service, I was thinking of my Uncle's family, my dad's brother, their brothers and sisters.  Thinking of my grandparents married and living in the little town of Lucas, MI, raising their nine children - 7 boys, 2 girls.  I was thinking how family grows up together in the same town, the same home, eating meals together, fishing The Clam River, sharing laughs - you hope.  This family grows up, grows older  moves on eventually marrying, moving away and starting their own families, spreading out.  Their kids grow up, move away...and the cycle continues.  I thought of my grandparents in their eternal resting place on the hill in McBain, close to where they started this whole family and those same nine children that started out in their home in Lucas - Marvin buried in the Grand Rapids area, Edith - I believe she is resting close to home in McBain, (and here I lose birth order) Clayton taking his sleep in Bay City, my dad in Manistee, Ray now in Jenison, Art back in McBain as well, and Gordon - I'm not sure where he is (He passed in Florida) but, I kept thinking how they were all born in the same place to the same parents, once together and now scattered about, yet always a family, though resting separately alone - yet my faith in God knows they are together again in heaven above.

I watched my Uncle Harold with his sister, my Aunt Dorothy and his sister-in-law, my Aunt Joanie.  He waited for them outside of the church to arrive.  He worried as they were a little later than he thought they should be.  He kept waiting until he knew they had arrived.  He walked in with them, stayed with them,escorted them to their seats, sat with them, helped Dorothy with her cane.  As long as I can remember they have been like this.  They were always close, watching over each other, getting together, making time for one another, they talk - they make the time.  I was so proud to be a part of them.  To call them my Aunts and Uncles.

I wandered back as Pastor spoke of my Uncle's gifts and his talents, his giving, his kindness and again, I looked at myself and the person I want to be.  I thought about ways to better myself, the gifts I can offer, the kindness I can extend as my Uncle had.  To give when it seems there isn't anything TO give. Pastor spoke of Uncle Ray's woodworking and asked for a show of hands from the people who had Uncle Ray's work in their homes.  It looked as if 90% of the congregation had their hands raised.  I thought of all of these people, touched by Uncle Ray and his kindness, his gentleness and at that point, I realized I wanted to live this way, I wanted people to speak of me, remember me, think of me this way.  I thought of my funeral and I want my eulogy to be full of kindness, positivity, generosity and even a bit of humility where it's due. I don't want you to only see the good deeds I've done, I want you to see the goodness that was my heart.  I want to be that goodness.  I want someone to walk away from my funeral wanting to live as I had.  A good life.

Rest in Peace sweet Uncle.  Thank you for one last lesson.

First year of baseball

We got to this Youth Baseball thing a little late...someone had a panic over wearing cleats.  T-ball last year went really well - no cleats.  We took the chance this year and signed him up for baseball - with cleats.  And you know what?  It went just fine.

On the way to the first game.

Getting ready to take the field.

I have a video of his first run scored but...it's upside down.  Tech savvy, I am not!

These are from his second game (3rd game on the schedule - we had a rainout).  Both games were so cold and windy!  Those kids played their hearts out.  (Photos courtesy of Grandma & Grandpa)

I little encouragement from the coach.

The Cabbage

Jeremy and I were talking a bit this morning about my lunch today.  Lunch is not generally a topic of conversation at our house but, today is exceptional - it's cabbage roll day!

I just so happens that this, ^^  that mess up ^^ there, is hands down my absolute favorite food, ever...ok...well, one of them.  My sisters all make this mess of deliciousness and I love them even more when they do!

I happen to be a HUGE fan of the cabbage in various forms.  Growing up boiled cabbage in milk and butter was a fave.  Fried cabbage with noodles was a delicacy that we all still hanker for occasionally, and of course the coleslaw, with either a cream sauce or vinegar.

And there is always sauerkraut!  Nothing like a little roasted pork and some kraut with corn and mashed potatoes!  Yum!

Summer is coming.  Bringing with it the giant heads of cabbage at the farm stands to make all of my favorites. Sorry Jeremy!  (there's something wrong with him...he's not a fan of the cabbage!)

Mother's Day, ick!

I'm sorry.  And I need to say this first.  I'm sorry to those who believe that maybe the things I write should be held back  or written privately.  You can feel that way.  You can keep your stories to yourself.  I choose to write mine.  Maybe a private journal is more suitable but, I don't believe keeping all of this to myself helps me or helps anyone else.  I'm not good at keeping secrets.  I'm not a good liar and I feel that to keep secrets is to lie even if that lie is told to only me. I'm sorry if anyone is offended but, as Ann Lamont said:

"You own everything that happened to you.  Tell your stories.  If people wanted you to write warmly about them, maybe they should have behaved better."

Mother's Day is my most unfavorite holiday.  As a mother yes, it's a chance to celebrate me and the things I do for my family.  I get that part.  I hate all of the warm, sappy commercials - Mother is love...love your mother. Buy this for your mom!  Mom...on her day...Yay mom!  Bite me.

"Sometimes just the act of revealing a painful secret can relieve some of the pain." ~ Unknown

I struggle with celebrating my mother.  In fact, I don't celebrate her. At all.  I tend to act as if she doesn't exist.  I have not spoken to my mother in about 2 years - could be 3...I lost track.  When any person finds out that I do not have a relationship with my mother, they all say, "She's your mother.  I couldn't imagine not speaking to my mother.  What could she have done?  You'll regret this one day."  Unless they too had a not-so-great mom.

My response now is, "Well, obviously you had a great mother.  People who have great mothers can't comprehend what it's like to have a terrible mother."  That generally shuts them up.

It's pathetic how we can't live with the things we can't understand.  How we need everything labeled and explained and deconstructed.  ~  Chuck Palahniuk

I had an OK childhood.  As I get older, I forget more and more.  I had friends that had similar family situations and they understood what it was like at my house and we got through it (maybe around it).  I didn't care to have friends over that didn't understand the yelling and the screaming, the name calling, the senselessness, the psychosis of it all.  There was this unspoken bond - we knew the level of crazy and could handle or avoid it...until about the 18-21 time frame...and by 35 - I was plain out of steam.

Let me see if maybe you can relate a bit.

Your mom helped with college applications, right?  According to my mom, I still owe her $60 for 3 - $20 college application fees "and you never even went to college!"  I graduated over high school 20 years ago.

Your mom helped you settle into your first apartment bought you things you needed, helped you leave her nest, right?  My mom said, "You'll be back.  You won't make it." and many other cruel things.

Your mom came when your children were born right?  They baby-sit?  Help out?  My mom has seen Jacob 3 times.  He's 8.  She sends him nothing for birthdays, nothing for Christmas.  In 8 years.  Speaking of, she hasn't acknowledged my birthday in about a decade.

You take time to go visit your mom, you stay at her house, it's like being home again?  When we were seeing my mom it was, "I hope you're not planning on staying here!"  Mind you, my mom doesn't have a stove or oven that works, she barely has running water let alone a bed for anyone else to sleep in.

You're at your mom's, grab a can of soda from the fridge, no big deal?  At my mom's, if you walk out the door with that can, you better leave your dime for the deposit on the counter.  She wants her money back.

You mom cooks your favorites for dinner.  My mom wouldn't know what my favorite is. The last time she cooked for me, I think I may have been in high school.  Your mom probably taught you how to cook your favorites.  My mom just complained that I never cooked.  I lived alone and taught myself, sometimes asking my sisters for help.

Birthday dinner = your faves with a homemade cake?   At my house, "What do you think this is?  Your Birthday or something?"  Maybe a store bought cake if you were brave enough to have a party.  I was lucky to have a sister to take care of birthdays for me and a brother to help with a party.  We never went out to dinner to celebrate.  I don't have one single gift from my mom, that was something enough to cherish.

Senior Prom?  Pictures.  Proud parent?  Dress shopping with your mom?  Jr. Prom - I wore my bridesmaids dress from my brother's wedding the year before.  Sr. Prom?  My dress came from the JC Penney clearance catalog AND, AND, my mom went out of town that night.  She went out of town OVERNIGHT on prom night!!  She missed it all.

My brother and sisters put together a graduation party for me the night of graduation.  My mom, didn't want a party.  I don't think I went to anyone else's party either.  Easier that way - they wouldn't ask about mine. I didn't have anything to give them as a gift anyway...

My mother did not come to my baby shower before Jacob was born.  She did not come to either my wedding shower or my reception (maybe both - I'm not sure).  She did not come for Jacob's baptism.

I have been accused of stealing everything under the sun.  Shoes, socks, pantyhose, clothing - and the latest - a fuzzy yellow bathrobe and the quarters she is saving for her grandchildren.  Me?  A thief?

And so many Mother's Days past!  If we bought her flowers, she'd complain she had to take care of them, if we bought her...anything...it was wrong.  Wrong Color.  Wrong style.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  And then the cards, if they were too mushy = we were sucking up.  Too plain = "Send me a generic mother's day card...".  Or there was also the "What the Hell am I supposed to do with this?".  This went on for every birthday, Christmas, and Mother's Day.  No gift was ever right or good enough.

I have taken time from work, driven up there to her, paid for hotel rooms, took time from my own family to help her because she says no one will help her and she says to me, "I'm not doing anything.  I'm not doing anything now. I don't know why you're here."  She is also known for not answering the door.

Yet, she manages to complain to anyone who will listen that her kids don't care about her, we don't take care of her, we don't spend any time with her.  She even complains this to us.  It's simply not true.  In fact, the last time she said this to me - which was the last time she and I spoke - my response was "Mom?  Do you ever tell these same people what you do to us?  Or what you won't do with us?  Do you tell them the times we invite you and you don't come, don't call?  Do you tell them the terribly mean things you say to us?"

I didn't think so.  (She hung up on me.)

I don't regret the choice to walk away from my mother.  I regret that she made the choice to never be involved.  That she chose to be this way.

I try, on Mother's Day to remember to celebrate being a mother, being a better mother than I had.  It's easy to be better, to give better, to love my child with all of my heart.  To say I love you, to be there when he feels scared or alone.  To give him my all and just a little more. I try to be everything that I wasn't given.  I try everyday to be better than I had.

Please do not feel sorry for me.  I believe there was a reason I was given this mother.  To teach me to be generous, kind, grateful, and many, many other things.  And I am working to be better at all of these things.  I pray no one else endures this - or worse.

I hope that you'll remember one day, should you meet someone who says, "I don't speak to my mother", to simply say, "I'm sorry.  I'll pray for her." and not cast any judgement upon them.

The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding.  ~ Albert Camus

Elenbaas Expansion Pack - Add one more, please?

You know, it's been a one heck of a journey and I love my family.

I'm learning who I am, who they are and without my mom - who created such a mess -we've all changed so much.  I'm learning where I fit and it takes time.  We've been through so much and all else aside, no matter what happens, they're my family.  As crazy and as angry as they may make me or I may make them, they're still my family, my one and only family. And I can say how crazy or angry they may make me but, don't you dare - because, I can.  They're mine.

I'll say it again, I love my family and sometimes I get overly sappy and emotional and they laugh at me (or avoid me) but, it's ok.  I still love them and I know they still love me.  Right?

So one of the best things is the history I have with these people and they went and took that history, and made little people and those little people are now AMAZING grown-ups too, just like us!!

I was Auntie Gail, Gails, "My little peach pit" and a few others.  I was young and didn't spend as much time with them as I could have or should have but, they humor me every now and again and let me hug on them, spoil them a little.  I remember when each one of the kids were born, holding them, feeding them, as they went off and started school, made their confirmations, played sports, graduated high school, went off to college, and a lot of things in between and these kids, these are GREAT kids!

I'm slowly learning that these kids aren't kids anymore.  They're grown up, they're getting married!  And it's the best thing ever!  It makes me cry and smile and just beam - all at the same time.  Because you know what!?!  Someday, oh do I hope but, someday these kids are going to have kids of their own and then, and then, AND THEN...I get to be a GREAT AUNT!!!  And my sisters?  They'll be GRANDMAS!!  HA!! That's the funniest thing ever!  My sisters = GRANDMAS!!

All joking, and all kidding aside, these Grown-ups are taking off, making their own lives and it's heartwarming (and at times heartcrushing) to watch them go and fly.

Matthew and Alisa - Congratulations on your engagement - just announced today! Alisa?  Are you sure you want to be a part of this clan?

Lizzy and Kyle - We're looking forward to your wedding this fall and I get a new nephew!  Poor Kyle!

Chris - the right girl is out there...and if not, that's ok.  We all think you're pretty great anyway!

Jeffrey and Jennifer - you are so great together and I know everything will work out as it's meant to be!

Erophili - You are a beautiful free spirit and I love watching you find your way - not the stumbling part but, the spirit of your success, your determination.  You remind me a lot of myself, I just pray that you aren't half as stubborn!

Jaz - Mr. Air Force - Little Web- I am so proud of you taking this path.  I know your dad is smiling down on you and just beaming with pride!

And finally our little Brookie - Wow girl!  You are more beautiful every time I see your face.  I will never forget the morning your daddy called me to tell me you were here.  He told me your name and being the sap that I am, I cried even harder than I already was. I am so proud of you and the woman you have become.  CMU is lucky to have you.  Go out and make something great for yourself.

I am lucky and ever so thankful to have been blessed with this family, with these kids, these new expansion pack kids, Alisa, Kyle, Jennifer (Dakota too).  I wouldn't change a moment.  Not for anything.

Shoplifting is a Crime.

I love a good deal.  I love something free. I love when the cashier misses something on the belt and I don't get charged for it. 

**Let me say that I do not intentionally try for this and if I do notice while in the line, I do correct the situation.  If I don't notice until I'm at home, which is at least 20 minutes away, well forget it!

While in Belleville yesterday, Jacob was trying on baseball caps.  He found one he liked and just wore it through the store as I didn't have a cart.

I didn't realize he was still wearing said hat until we were in the parking lot on the way to the car.  I also realized I hadn't paid for it.  I did say out loud to Jacob that I didn't pay for his hat. He looked at me in disbelief.

Shit!

We're about 2 hours from home.  We're tired.  We put our bags in the car, went back inside and paid for the hat.

I love a good deal.  I love something for free.  I have a moral responsibility as a person, as a parent to teach my child right from wrong.  The thought did cross my mind to just go, to go home but, I looked at Jacob's sweet, innocent face and envisioned the police chasing us down I-94 and arresting me for shoplifting while Jacob is bawling for his daddy.  Hating his heroes for carting his momma off to jail like the naughty-naughty we often talk about.

Jacob probably won't understand for a long time what happened in those moments or my whole thought process, I truly hope I taught him in those moments to be responsible, to do the right thing. Not to steal.

Skype with Swami - The Cemetery Edition

I've been working on my family tree for a few weeks now.  Searching census records, obituaries, birth and death certificates, passenger manifests (my mother's maternal grandmother came over on the Carpathia) and any other documentation I can get my eyes on.  This search led me (us - I sucked my sister into this adventure) to this little cemetary in this teeny town Southwest of Detroit called Carleton.  My great grandfather was born here, he married his wife here, they had their children here, they moved away from here but, came back here for their eternal rest.  They must have fallen in love with this little tiny town.  It is tiny.

When I talked to my great grandma about paying a visit to her, she was very excited.  I asked her how I would find her and she said, "Don't worry honey, there is a big marker".

I drove 2 & 1/2 hours (my sister drove 3) based on a website listing my family as being buried here - no photos - and my conversation with a woman who has been dead for over 50 years!

I saw this first big stone on my initial drive through but, I didn't want to stop to find it without my sister - and it looked too new.  So I drove through, didn't find any others, found out my sister was at another cemetary and decided to get out and explore.  This wasn't what I was looking for.  I asked my grandma to help me find her, "Turn around, turn around". I did.  

Looking over my right shoulder just up over the hill and I saw it.  "The big marker".  A friend asked about my flash - if that white dot was a reflection from my flash from the camera.  I didn't have my flash on.  I do believe that white dot would be my very happy great grandma Edna.

As I got closer, I saw this first. My great-great grandmother.

And on the other side of the big marker, there they were.  Just like she said!  My great grandparents. She was so excited we were there.  She just kept chattering though nothing she wanted heard by my ears.  We dug the dirt off the stone, cleaned it up as much as we could (with a snowbrush). We also found a great aunt, and I believe a great uncle.

What a great find.  I'm so excited to have made it there...now if we can just find my great great grandpa on this side AND my mother's maternal grandmother - this ancestry mystery will be solved.  I've asked them for help but, they're not talking.  Stay tuned!

Sharing the kitchen

I have these little quirks.  Things I like done a certain way. Especially in my kitchen.  It's funny, my sisters never ever bother me when in my kitchen, I think because we all learned to maneuver around each other in my parents teeny-tiny kitchen.  When we get together, I'm not sure if we simply anticipate each other's movements or we're  not shy in our intentions or if we fall into this orchestra from our childhood but, it works.  Yet, with us, we're all still very different in our own kitchens, how we wash dishes, where we keep our tools, our bowls, or our bread. We still all work well together.  

Most places, I feel pretty comfortable in the kitchen and I think most times, I'm fairly comfortable having someone else in mine...except for that ONE person and we all have that ONE person who is always in the way.  The ONE where you need water and she's standing in front of the sink, you need something from the fridge and he's leaning against it.  You need a spoon and they're blocking the drawer.  No matter what, you move left and they move...right into your path. I just want to point them to a chair and say, "SIT!  Stay!".

I don't mind help in my kitchen, if you're truly helping me and most people can tell the difference.  I don't mind someone doing dishes and leaving me a clean stack on the table to put away.  I do mind when I go looking for something and can't find it because you put it where you thought it should go instead of asking me where I keep it.  In the past, at my house, I have always been the dishwasher.  Recently, I have taken on the role of Sergeant.  Some one else washes and I answer all the questions while putting things away.  It works so much better for me.  

To the point, have you ever noticed there are just some people you can't share a kitchen with?

I came across this in Ann Landers some time ago and I can completely relate.

Dear Well-Meaning Friends:

Please stay out of my kitchen

From my dishwashing, cooking and such.

You are kind to have offered to help me,

And I do want to thank you so much.

I hope you won't think me ungracious

When I ask that you leave me alone,

For my kitchen is not very spacious,

And my system is strictly my own.

So please stay out of my kitchen,

It may well prevent a few wars.

And when I'm invited to your house,

I promise to stay out of yours!

(in case you were wondering where the idea came from for this post, I bought a 6 pack of brightly colored scrubby sponges yesterday and I got to thinking about them, for instance - Cindy, Karen and I, most often wash dishes in a sink full of soapy water while Gloria often uses the soapy sponge method - which I will use if I have a small amount of dishes to wash - not that either is wrong, only different.  Which led to...and...and I remembered this Ann Landers....etc.)