The #SundayCurrently - Volume 3

Hosted at siddathornton.blogspot.com

Currently...

Reading The Real Boy by Anne Ursu, after finishing Creech's The Boy on the Porch and Frost's Salt. All amazing reads.

Writing First short story is due Tuesday, so I'm knee deep in the world of my main character. It's a sad, misunderstood teenage sort of world, where things don't end quite well. This story is so important to me, and terribly difficult to write because I feel I owe this character a chance at having a voice.  So much I want to do in this story, and so few words in which to accomplish it.

Photo Credit

Listening The weekend has been spent with much Lost and random video game tomfoolery by The Husband going on in the background. Decent white noise for my current frame of mind.

Thinking Earlier this week I told Seestah I felt bad that I couldn't just up and skip class or miss work and North Star related obligations because mom was coming into town. Today Mom called and changed all that. Now she isn't coming here, though I think it is best that I do skip class and risk tarnishing my work reputation by being with my mom. I'd regret it beyond my ability to recover if anything happened and I had chosen anything else.

Smelling Fresh cut grass, soft rain, and dandelions. Summer, you've finally chosen to blow in.

Wishing that this too-small world didn't feel all too big right now, that parenting got less confusing as children grow, and that I wasn't so neurotic about finding answers.

Hoping Mom has her procedure this Wednesday. I'm hoping it goes well, news is good, and she's back home in her own bed safe and comfy by nightfall.

Wearing It's summer time, the work clothes are hung in my closet with care (aka lying on the closet floor), and I will be chillin' in shorts, yoga pants, and tank tops for the next few months.

Loving Seestah and I have had weird ups and downs throughout the years. We have different perspectives on many big things. But when it comes down to it, we have each other's backs. No matter what. I love that about us.

Wanting Too many sadnesses have stacked themselves up in front of me like a great tower of balancing rocks. I'd like to blow them over and see them hurtle away to make room for some space to spread out and just breathe.

Needing A plan. I very seriously need to sit down and map out my summer schedule so that all these crazy goals I have can be accomplished. I'm giving myself another day to pout about life, and then it's schedule time!

Feeling Disappointed. My frame sags heavily under the weight of it.

Clicking I was in the throes of an exiestential music crisis the other day and happened about Gnoosic. You provide a few of your favorite bands or musicians, it provides recommendations. Kind of digging it. I would dig it more if there was a way to listen to samples of the suggestions right there. Either way, a pretty nifty little site.

#EveryDayinMay - Living in the Moment

Go check out Crystal's post on New Orleans streetcars today!

Tonight's post was supposed to be all about my exciting date night in the woods, hiking in my fancy new boots for the first time.

Supposed is a funny sort of word, isn't it?

The day started out just as intended. A meeting with cherished North Star of Texas friends to discuss the upcoming year of Professional Development. Helping Dos prepare for his prom night. Delighting in a little mini-photography session with Dos and the girlfriend.

Afterwards, The Husband and I had planned a simple evening -- a trip to REI so he could check out their shoes, I could grab some nifty long wool socks, and we could take a quick peek at their sleeping pads. Apparently there is more to think about when it comes to sleeping in the woods after days of hiking than I originally anticipated.

By the time we were headed to REI, I already knew the hiking trip was beyond our reach. Traffic had been touch and go, the photo session took longer than anticipated, and I knew once we entered the store, we'd have a difficult time getting back out quickly.

I looked over at The Husband as we sped away to the store and smiled. Hiking trip or not, the rest of the night was ours. I was happy to simply sit in the moment and enjoy it.

So plans have been made. The boy is off dancing the night away. I have nifty long wool socks (with purple toes!). We grabbed some barbecue, rented a movie, and eased into the evening. No rushing about, no worries, no stress.

I'm perfectly thankful for what is, even if it's not what was supposed to be.

#SOL14 - Why Kindness Matters

We have no way of predicting when our time with loved ones will end. In our biggest dreams, we have years and years to spend with family, create our masterpieces, weave together the legacy we leave behind. In our unspoken fears, we know there are no promises that guarantee us anything more than this moment.

Today I went to a memorial service for a friend's mother.

He lost her last weekend, due to a terrible car accident that took the lives of both people involved.

Last night, my brother-in-law lost a cherished grandfather.

Just over a week or so ago, my oldest son was involved in an accident with a motorcyclist that, thankfully, ended without any major injuries. Still, this one small moment in my son's life has rattled him deeply; a huge reminder for a boy barely in his twenties that he is not invincible.

Each incident a reminder to make daily choices to fill my life with gratitude and compassion, to make time for people and not fill my days with the busy trivial things that somehow tend to wedge in and become a sponge soaking up all the minutes in a day.

In the past year I have felt a sharp need to say no at work more than I say yes, to give myself more time for family and my own interests. The television is never on anymore at night, there is more time for conversation, I work hard (so hard) at being completely present with the Littles -- paying attention to their games, playing with them, having discussions, and leaving my distracting iPhone unattended so they get all of me, and not just a woman half involved. I'm back in school, working on what I love, even though logic would have sent me on a different path. The pressure to follow my heart seems to matter more and more than following the prescribed career path I began many years ago.

Time is fleeting. Focusing on kindness -- to myself, to everyone around me -- is where I find my solace in the face of so many uncertainties.

#SOL14 - A Strong Woman

Grandma Cooper was a strong woman.

I like to think I inherited her emotional strength and determination. Sometimes I just tell myself it's true, when I need to feel a little bolder. I think about her often; not a week passes these days without her on my mind.

There are many days when The Husband and I are shopping that I stop suddenly and squeal, "Eeee! I love this! I must have it!"

He just smiles and nods, saying, "I bet your grandma had one just like it, right?"

And most of the time, he's right. I fill my house with things that remind me of her: bowls, paintings, furniture, and even shoes. I look out into my backyard and cringe, knowing she would shake her head at the state of the flowerbeds, cluck her tongue at the lack of a garden. I learned to knit because of her, and stopped knitting when she passed. It's a strange connection, but I'm not ready to pick my needles back up again.

She has a spot in everything I write -- a wisp of a character trait, a location, a saying. Writing her into my stories breathes life back into my aging memories of her. I wish I knew more, had more to write, but I have just the memories of a lifetime of shuffling about from state to state -- of hugs and tears each time we said goodbye -- of a brief little pocket of time when we lived in the same sunshine town on the coast of Florida. All good memories, filled with earth and food and cloth and warmth and smiles.

Grandma Cooper was a strong woman. I like to think I carry a little seed of that strength with me, just as I carry her heart in my heart.

#SOL14 - Family Matters

Today slipped by too quickly. I woke at 4:45 to the sound of a puppy needing to go out, and it seems that we never stopped moving from the time my feet hit the floor. I'm thankful for these busy days -- The Husband didn't have to work today, and I celebrate the weekends when we are together, even when they are so full they slip by all too quickly.

This evening my mother-in-law came over. I don't like that term, preferring mother of my heart, because she truly is just that -- a wonderful friend that I cherish. She arrived with a surprise bag of goodies -- homemade granola, ingredients to make red pepper hummus, a few cucumbers, and a delicious healthy chicken salad with sprouted grain tortillas. She loves to cook, and had recently bought a new cookbook filled with healthy recipes she wanted to share with us. This was a perfect surprise because after our long day, The Husband and I had barely eaten and hadn't made plans for dinner.

We spread everything out on the coffee table and snacked while we talked. Most of the evening was spent showing her some tips on using her new iPad Mini and iPhone. It's fun listening to The Husband and her banter back and forth -- mostly because he always tells me he can't understand the way Uno and I talk to each other; he says we don't sound like any other mother and son he's ever listened to. But when I listen to them, I catch many glimpses of Uno and me. Quick witted, playful, sarcastic -- lots of laughter. They're very comfortable together, so although I spent most of the night just listening, it was time well spent.

I hope that when Uno and Dos and the Littles are older, we'll share this same closeness. I hope they'll know they can call on us for help, and are welcome to show up at our doorstep any time. And most of all, I hope these relationships stay strong and close. Seeing The Husband with his mom always reminds me that just because my children are growing up, it doesn't mean they're growing away.

#SOL14 - Puppy Love

First: Happy Ides of March! This will be my first time in a few years to not post about the Ides on the 15th, but something has come up that is a little more important than my love of the Ides!

One week ago yesterday, I was running around work like a complete crazy woman, attempting to finish up all the last minute details that needed attending before Spring Break was in full swing.

The Husband was road tripping to Oklahoma to meet up with the amazing people that are responsible for bringing our newest little love into our lives.

At the end of the school day, I made my normal rounds through the computer labs and library to turn off all the computers. My principal and a couple teachers were in talking with me, everyone excited to be headed off for a week of relaxation. The library door opened and in walked The Husband. In his arms was my sweet, big new boy -- Grimm! After many puppy snuggles, I loaded him up in my car and drove him the rest of the way home. He slept the whole way, all curled up like a roly-poly.

My gorgeous guys!

Grimm took no time at all making himself at home. He is headstrong, brave, smart, and always on the go. He is learning how to wait at the door before coming in or out, wait to be told "okay" before eating his meals, and is learning to walk beside me without a leash. It definitely helps that he loves his treats.

He also loves to sleep. In odd positions.

Last night I had my first training "aha" moment with him. A few days ago I started working on shaping with Grimm. I had read that shaping (as opposed to luring or other training methods) is a great way to let your dog think their way through problems, so I figured -- why not? I want to build a strong bond with Grimm, and I think this will be a fun way for us to grow a relationship.

We have three cinderblocks stacked side by side to make a small platform on the porch that we used when we were teaching Lily to stay. I walked over to it and when Grimm followed, I clicked (and treated) that behavior. I repeated this a few times and then the next time we went over to the platform again, I just waited. He put a paw on the blocks, so I "clicked" on that. Then two paws, then four, then he sat - each time I "clicked" on the new behavior. Then I walked around and kept returning to the blocks and each time he followed me around and got up there and sat right away!

Grimm on the run with Lily close at his heels!

I'm not going to lie, I was pretty much thinking -- "Wow, so this shaping thing actually works??" Then he got too smart and when I walked away he didn't follow me, he just stayed right there watching me and waiting for me to come back to him, because obviously I had shown him that if he sat there long enough I would bring him a treat. Smart dog! I should have realized that with each time I left the platform, he stayed there a little longer -- guess he was also working on shaping my behavior!

At this point I realized that I could either click for him staying there and shape our way to a long stay (maybe??) or reset and get him back to hopping up onto the blocks. I clicked and rewarded for how long he stayed, then said okay and he hopped down and trotted over to me. I learned SO many things from this 10 minute session playing this game with him! Number one: time to buy a book on shaping - I know a little, but I need to know so much more! This little guy is going to easily outsmart me at every turn.

So I definitely have a lot to learn, but it's easy to enjoy the process when I'm staring into this precious face.

#SOL14 - Sleepover!

Tonight my oldest niece and nephew are spending the night with the Littles. It's been a night full of games, laughter, and getting creative so everyone could have a tent for bedtime...

Fish Friday is a hit!

The girls get some Minecraft time after a round or two of Jenga.

K came up with the idea to use "super tape" to make an upstairs tent!

Everyone tucked happily away in tenting slumberland!

#SOL14 - Blissfully Busy

Today's post will probably be late, and I'm okay with that. It's been one of those too-full days -- full of family, activity, conversation, creativity, playfulness -- full of life. It's been a beautiful day.

Last night my seventeen year old, Dos, called to say he was coming over because he needed help making a piñata for a class project. He had assembled all the necessary items, but wanted help putting it together. He arrived late (late, people) last night and we talked until our eyelids became too heavy to ignore, said our goodnights and went off to bed.

In the morning, his girlfriend found she had some extra time, so we ended up with some extra help in the piñata giraffe creating project. This was excellent for me -- now I could clean house and supervise their work. I love the times when the house is full of activity and laughter; I especially love when it involves Dos. He decided four years ago he wanted to go live with his dad to spend more time with him, and though I'm glad he's building a stronger relationship with his father, I miss him endlessly.

Dos hoping a blow dryer will speed up the process!

After she left, I took over the assisting duties. It wasn't long before The Husband and the Littles arrived home, which meant it was time to introduce them to the new puppy.

Turbo and Grimm already in love.

Sass helped me make dinner while the rest of the guys played with the dogs, played video games, and enjoyed some down time. The house was bursting with love and more laughter. It was the very best kind of evening possible.

Now the Littles (and all the dogs!) are sound asleep. The Husband and I are relaxing on the couch as Dos plays a video game, and the darling paper mache giraffe has it's final layer on and is drying (sans blow dryer) on the table.

Soon, to bed. But for now, bliss -- only bliss.

#SOL14 - Thirteen Memories

Still tinkering with the idea of Stevens' Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird. My mom's birthday was yesterday, so she's been on my mind all week. Here then, are thirteen ways of looking at (growing up with) my mom.

I
Because of her,
We discovered the wonder
Found in new words and worlds,
Between rows of books.

II
Hair, rich chestnut brown.
Pony and pigtails,
Long or short,
Always thin;
fine as spiderwebs.
"Just wait," she warned,
"When you're older it all goes away."
I didn't listen, but I should have.

III
Nighttime meant
The smell of Noxzema,
Pink and white plastic pins
Placed carefully into hair rollers, and
An open Bible, read
By soft lamp light.

IV
The best part about
Being sick
Was candy-sweet hot tea
And toast
Thick with butter.

V
On the night everything changed,
When pulsing lights lit up the sky
In red and blue and white,
And men's voices barked
Commands into the darkness,
She wrapped herself around me
Like a cocoon, eyes searching
My face, crying, "My baby,
My precious baby,
What's happened to her?"

VI
Joan Jett sings
About loving rock and roll,
While Mom and I dance
Like wild things
Across the living room floor.

VII
After the accident,
When the leg brace was removed,
A shiny purple question mark
Remained on the top of her knee
As if asking, "Why us?"

VIII
Her hands and knees
Press firmly to the floor.
I stand in front of her,
Watching.
She arches her back up,
then down.
Then up again.
I laugh.
"Don't laugh," she huffs,
Back swaying down once more.
"I'm doing my calisthenics."

IX
Words are a game
In her mouth,
Rolling around like a ball
On a roulette wheel.

X
She sang,
And sings still.
Prayers and praise
Sent up to heaven
Note by note.

XI
I wake, finding her poised
At the edge of my bed,
Crying.
Her body curls over itself;
A wilting plant.
"Oh honey," she whispers,
"What am I going to do?"

XII
Her superpower
Is knowing just the right card,
Remembering every birthday and
Always, always writing in that
Perfectly formed print
The words you need to hear.

XIII
On Friday nights
In those desert days,
Mom and her best girl friends
Hit the casinos
But she never left without
Me first placing
A lucky quarter into her waiting hand.

#SOL14 One Little Word

My One Little Word for 2014 is light.

Typically I identify with my word easily and it slips right into my life. I notice it taking shape throughout the year and know I've chosen well.

Only two months into 2014 and I wonder when the meaning I sought behind light will appear.

This year I want to keep things light, notice the brilliance in every day moments, embrace opportunities to let my life shine.

Only two months into 2014 and it has been a struggle. I am seeking light, but finding many shadows in the way. But still, I'm a silver-lining kind of girl. The light is there, if we just keep looking long enough.

Last night I sat on the bench swing in our backyard with my sassy little (step)daughter. Though she is barely eight years old, our relationship has been a struggle. She pushes, I pull; round and round we go. I love this brave little strong-hearted girl as if she were my own, and finally last night as we sat beneath the stars and chatted about this and that and big girl problems in little girl words, the world stopped for a second and gave us our moment to shine.

We giggled in the dark and traded secrets and truths that whispered away into the night air.

We sat in our own little bubble of light, if only for just one moment.

And that's all that really matters, isn't it?

All those little moments that build into the life we make for ourselves.

#Slice2013 - Day 31 of 31

A month in reverse...

Easter celebrated with family,
A beautiful finished harlequin floor,
Lunch with friends and a reminder to make time for the happy moments,
A phone call that may just lead to a dream job,
Wrote side by side with eager learners,
Shared the power of "believe" with Dos,
Remembered the strength in helping people be their best,
Time with The Husband turning our house into a home,
Stepped out on faith and still trusting the process,
Asked questions of my learners instead of giving them the answers,
Said yes to a possibility that holds infinite rewards,
Found the strength to be honest about where my shame hides,
Enjoyed quiet moments at home with Dos and The Husband,
Thankful for Dos' quick recovery from the surgery that rattled my nerves,
Learned patience and dedication through our work in the house,
Beat my head against the wall over floors that didn't want to be transformed,
Laughed with friends over ridiculous Shakespearean insults,
Stretched my ability to grow comfortable with my soon-to-be 20 year old son,
Grabbed up my old writing self and refuse to let her go,
Connected with the reasons to hold fast to dreams,
Became an experienced floor grinding, concrete sanding, staining expert,
Searched my heart for the path I want to be on,
Reflected on my life as a writer,
Lived through an in-home dust storm,
Cherished my mom on her special day,
Lamented the pains of a boy that I miss every moment,
Sent out a passionate call to action for educators everywhere,
Battled it out with The Husband on the first round of floor tear down,
Finally (finally) chose the right shade of grey for the living room and took action,
Told the truth of my hermit crab mental life,
Made a promise to write without ceasing for thirty-one days.

All in all, I'd call March a success.

My heart is full, my life is energized, my family and friends are healthy.

And it only gets better from here. April is already promising to offer more everyday blessings.

I'm ready to get started. How about you?

#Slice2013 - Day 28 of 31

Have I mentioned lately how much 2013 has been rawking my socks off?

I mean, let's get serious for a minute:

• Completion of savings budget? Check!
• New home? Check!
• House remodeling successes? Check!
• Possible career enhancing opportunity of ultimate rockstar happiness? Check!
• Dos' knee surgically repaired and healing beautifully? Check!
• Back on track and eating clean? Check! (YES! Finally! Yay! It feels sooooo good!)
• Writing daily, working on new ideas? Check!
• New fitness venture, enabling me to motivate myself and thousands of others -- while working with the inspirational fitness diva from The Sweaty Betties? Check!
• Ability to bring people along with me on this unbelievably fabulous fitness adventure? Check, check, and uber-check!

And there are other blessings as well -- too many to list, too many heart-happy moments, too many smiles, too much joy to keep all to myself.

Loving life, my friends. And there's still more to come!

#Slice2013 - Day 24 o 31

But what about the floor?

This floor is how I spent most of my day. Still unfinished, but nearly done. And I love it.

I love that after The Husband's original paper rendition didn't quite match the look I was hoping for didn't work out, I gave it a try myself. I love that I struggled through the math bits that I hate and figured out how to align everything the right way. I love that The Husband and I took my paper measurements and were able to work together to measure and layout the design on the floor. I even loved learning how to use a chalk line, even though it hurt my fingers! And I love that we put the lines on the floor together.

I've been painting in the dark blue diamonds with a sponge brush, and although it takes quite a bit of time, I truly enjoy it. Every outline is difficult, with me arched over the space I'm working on, arm braced against a knee or leg or floor, delicately following the sometimes barely-there chalk line, to make a perfect-as-I-can-manage straight line. But I feel so good about the work I have put into this floor.

The Littles run up to the doorway every once in a while and cheer me on. So also, I love how excited they are about the floor I'm creating for their room.

And all that frustrationangeraggravationdespair that made me regret ever having torn up the carpet in the first place?

Gone.

I love this floor, and the home that it is in, and my family that will soon, oh so soon, be moving in.

#Slice2013 - Day 21 of 31

Today is a day filled with possibility. (And so is tomorrow, if I choose to focus on the positive.)

Today Dos took off his bandages and marveled at his "big swollen lump of a knee," and later marveled at the knee taking shape as the swelling went down. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow he might go back to school, depending on how he feels.

Today I was back in class, writing alongside students. We talked about what was working and what was not. I asked the right questions, and they found their own answers. Tomorrow? Tomorrow we'll do a read around, celebrating the craft they've been developing all year.

Today I stepped out into an unknown area and said YES, even though I was nervous. I met some new friends. I spoke up when I wanted to shut down. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I'll meet more friends, I'll stick to my plans, I'll work on the dream of financial freedom. Because dreams without work don't equal success.

Today I choose time for myself and The Husband, instead of squeezing in a few extra hours working on the house. We laughed and lazed about and enjoyed a quiet house. Tomorrow? Tomorrow we'll be back in the house, Littles running about squealing and giggling about their new room.

Today was a very good day (not despite the grumpy-mumpy bits, but alongside them) and tomorrow holds an entire new set of happy possibilities.

And for all that, and so much more, I am thankful.

#Slice2013 - Day 19 of 31

Dos rests on the couch, his bandaged leg propped up on two pillows borrowed from my bed. An ice pack slips from his knee, landing beside the small dog that has stood guard at his feet all day. But Dos is oblivious to this. He stares intently at the screen on his laptop, eyes flickering up and down, left to right. The ghost of a smile touches his mouth.

To my left, The Husband sits with another laptop. From the corner of my eye, I catch images as they slide across the screen. Unaware of my observation, he sighs and grunts as he scans through the pictures. He clicks, scrolls, clicks some more. Eyes roaming the screen, he whirls the laptop around to face Dos.

"How about this one?" The Husband asks.

Dos looks up, nodding.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to be working on that!" He laughs, and looks back down at his own screen. "But this is more like it," he laughs, turning the laptop to show The Husband.

The Husband nods, laughing along with Dos.

"Not gonna be able to haul anything with that, though," he adds as he resumes his hunt.

Dos shakes his head, launching into a passionate argument about the benefit of one body style over another.

This continues for thirty minutes, and then an hour, the two of them laughing and exchanging words and phrases about cars and trucks. Most of it I barely understand, but they are two men on a mission.

I am merely the silent scribe for the evening. Listening, smiling, and writing the minutes down to remember for another day.

#Slice2013 - Day 7 of 2013

At the NCTE Annual Conference last year, I sat in on a sentence crafting presentation by NWP's Sherry Swain. One activity we did that morning popped into my mind as I thought about how to write my "I remember when..." post for my mom's birthday today. It makes me smile that my memories of growing up with my mom mingled with my professional development experiences. I like to think that my empathetic teaching heart comes from my mom.

In Swain's lesson, we crafted a sentence using three verb clusters and a follow up zinger-sentence. So mine for my mom would look something like this:

Today I remember my mom; sitting elbow to elbow in the library with the perfect book, belly-laughing over pumpkin pie disasters, and belting out operatic rock-and-roll sing-alongs in the car. She wasn't your ordinary mom.

All in all, not a bad sentence. And a great way to help my 4th Grade writers begin to stretch their thinking within the confines of one sentence.

But I have so much more to say about my mom. So much more to celebrate!

Learning to write cursive in the sunny window of our Florida home, my mom teaching me during the summer because I couldn't wait until school began.

Nightly Bible stories, snuggled in bed together.

Opening the door to our kitchen to find a flour-covered winter wonderland created by our giant Weimaraner. Oh, she was not a happy Mom that day.

Watching every Barbara Streisand movie ever made; laughing and crying along with her.

Struggling into tights right after school, zipping through the house in a flurry of activity before she rushed me off to ballet practice.

Hiding a pail containing a tiny nest with two tinier birds behind my back, as Mom questioned where that chirping was coming from.

Waking up to goodies waiting in the morning from The Great Pumpkin on Halloween.

Weekends trips to Las Vegas hotels just for a girl's weekend away, when Dad was out of town.

Watching her rock my firstborn son when I was just too exhausted to sit upright.

Listening to her sing lullabies to the boys when they were little.

Tater-tot casserole. Nothing else can be said about this.

Her Momisms. The way she says pot pourri and beaucoup and bless your heart.

The cards. The countless, just because, always perfect cards she sends at just the right moments.

And so much more.

I remember all of this, have forgotten too much already, and am thankful for it all.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.

#Slice2013 - Day 6 of 31

I'm writing this with eyelids that want to fall like anchors, and a sandbag body.

It's been a long day. It's been a long week.

This afternoon I sat in the office of an orthopedic surgeon with Dos. His knee is wobbly and knocky and not at all 16-year-old sturdy. It's been this way too long, but I'm doing my best not to focus on the bits that make me angry. (If you're new to this circus, read here. And perhaps here.)

The surgeon, in a tornado of words and quips, quickly pointed out that we had exhausted all other options. It is time for surgery. A small surgery, one to two hours and back home again, with a few weeks of physical therapy and my boy should be back to normal. My eyes filled with tears, but The Husband felt me tense up beside him. He squeezed my leg. He grabbed my hand. I exhaled and let the anger go.

(Oh, but those angry thoughts want out of their cage tonight ... this shouldn't have taken so long, this might not have gotten so bad, he's been hurting for so long ... shoulda, woulda, coulda ... )

We left the specialist's office, enjoyed dinner together, and headed over to GoodWill to grab a pair of crutches. Doctor's orders -- Dos has to stay off that leg until the surgery.

He was good natured about it all, in typical Dos fashion. He apologized for doing "dumb stuff" that ended up costing us money (I told him to enjoy the time in his life when he can do dumb stuff and have someone else worry about the cost to repair his bones). He worried that his boss might not let him work until after the surgery (I told him to enjoy light duty, girls carrying his books for him, and less chores). He made jokes about hitting people with his crutches (I told him he wasn't very funny. He hit me with his crutches.)

I asked if he was scared.

"Scared? Heck yeah, I'm scared!"

I nodded, not sure what to say.

He's never had any real medical issues like this before. No broken bones or slings or splints or even a stitch. When he was little, he always stuck quite close to me. All the struggles we ever dealt with came from Asperger's, not broken bits inside his bones.

After finding just the right pair of crutches for a 6'1" boy, I took him home to his Dad.

(That phrase is still unnatural, those words don't fit in my head, saying goodbye still brings tears to my eyes...)

He hugged me with his crutches wrapped around my back (laughing at his own hilariousness), then hobbled up the steps and disappeared through the door.

Tonight as I lay on the couch, surrounded by my snuggle-loving dogs, my eyes begging to be released from duty for the day, a line  from Dos' favorite childhood book popped into my mind. I don't even remember the last time I thought about it, but it fits.

The book is called Turtle Time by Sandol Stoddard. It's about a child that finds a turtle and keeps it for a pet, and how turtle time is so different from our own.

The line he loved so much is the same that wrapped itself around me this evening: "Turtle time is very slow, it waits until it wants to go."

Maybe I need to practice some turtle time. I think Dos has always understood.

SOL Tuesday: WTMNBN, Part 3

This post started here, moved forward here, and has landed rather quietly on the doorstep of today's Slice of Life post. I hadn't intended to share this today, but it seemed to want to be heard. Sometimes, you just have to follow the words home again.

My last WTMNBN post left my story ten years ago, in 2002. I struggled with my self image and my weight for the next 4 years, shedding and gaining the same 20-30 pounds -- as if my body were part of some twisted bungee jumping adventure. Always bouncing around, never stable.

In 2006, my mom flew in from Illinois for a visit.  It was a normal Mom visit -- filled with food, food, and more food. Mom loves the following things more than most things in life: onion dip, M&M's, Coca-Cola, bread & butter, and Taco Bell. Or McDonald's. This sounds cruel, but it isn't intended to be. I love my mom dearly. It's her lifestyle that makes me cringe.

She woke me early in the hours just before dawn on the day she was supposed to return home. She was in tears, her body hunched over, her arms wrapped around her belly. It didn't take long for me to realize this was more than an ordinary stomach ache. As the sun came up, we headed to the hospital.

My mom was rushed into a room that was roughly the size of a walk-in closet. Honestly, there are probably closets out there larger than her room at the hospital. There was nothing on the walls, no counters or cabinets, just stark white floors, walls, and ceilings. A rounded bench jutted out from one wall; as if seat and wall had been molded together from a single piece of Play-doh.

Later, the nurses told us that they had been out of rooms, so my mom was placed on a gurney in their holding room for drunks and other "crazies" that can't be trusted in a normal room. It made for an interesting experience, to say the least.

I watched my mom sleep through the next several hours, only waking to request something to drink or a warmer blanket. She was pale and weak; her face tired, her body slack. I had no idea why she was in so much pain, why her digestive system had blood in it, or what the possible diagnosis would be.

I was scared.

Hospitals have always petrified me. I've spent way too much time in emergency rooms, outpatient clinics, overnight stays -- you name it, I've been there. To this day, every time I walk into any type of medical environment I have to fight back a wave of nausea.

But this was more than my typical hospital-paranoia. I spent hours that day worrying that I might lose my mom.

After 10 hours of sitting and waiting and waiting and sitting and letting my mind wander rampantly through the land of the delirious and back, we found out my mom was suffering from diverticulitis -- a completely treatable disease caused by her years of atrocious eating habits.

I remember a few things vividly from that day:

1. I was angry. Watching her lie on the hospital bed, I envisioned the same situation years into the future -- with my own kids sitting by my bedside. Me, missing out on graduations and weddings and grandchildren -- all because food was more important than family, my own health, or my future.
2. This thought crept around my brain, and refused to leave: every choice we make to eat foods that are from a fast food place, too fatty, or fried... every time we choose to sit on the couch all night instead of being active... every choice we make that favors flavor over fitness -- is also a choice for a long, slow, painful suicide.

I stopped over eating. I stopped indulging in Ben & Jerry's. I stopped drinking soda. Stopped smoking. Stopped the secret McDonald's stops on the way home from class at night. 

I started walking. Every day. I started researching heart healthy, nutrient rich recipes. I started truly taking care of myself, for the first time in my life.

I invested in the art of being me.

By 2008 I was healthier, stronger, and slimmer than I had ever been. My 35 year old body put my 17 year old body to shame.

And I wasn't doing it for vanity. I didn't want the skinniest, prettiest body. I didn't place an emphasis on how attractive I was.

I wanted to live. Plain and simple. For a long, long time.

The measure of my success was found in the energy I had, the laughter I shared with my kids, the ease with which I could run and play outdoors with my nieces and nephews.

If something was known to be unhealthy, I didn't let it near me. It wasn't difficult. I thought of my mom, lying in that terrible hospital room, I looked at my children, who deserved a mom that cared more about them than she did about food.

And I just did it.

It would be a perfect fairy tale if that were the end of my story. It is, after all, a beautiful "happily ever after".

But there's more to this story.

Today just isn't the day to tell it.

Irish Memories

I grew up with Molly McGuire singing Wild Rover as a backdrop to many a family dinner.

I can still smell the sweet scent of Dad's clay pipe; still see him in his chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, head hidden behind his newspaper, plume of smoke puffing up above him.

I remember my first trip to McGuire's -- how I stared unabashedly at the dollar bills stapled to every inch of the ceiling but averted my eyes from the busty naked statue that serves as their beer tap. I loved listening to my dad tell stories of how he stumbled into this tiny hole in the wall pub years ago, and tried to imagine it as just so -- and not the huge enterprise it had come to be by the time I was there.

St. Patrick's Day at our house meant feasting on corned beef and cabbage, with generous helpings of potatoes and bread on the side. It meant Dad playing all our favorite songs, with my sister and I singing along til we rolled on the floor giggling from The Unicorn Song and The Rattlin' Bog and Seven Drunken Nights. That last song meant an eye roll and shaking head from my mom, who would leave the room, sighing. Looking back, I finally know why. As a child, these were the songs that made me laugh, because they brought my dad to life.

And that wasn't always an easy thing to do.

He bought me my first Molly McGuire CD, my first official McGuire's Irish Pub stein, and many other Irish accoutrement throughout the years.

Being Irish wasn't just something that happened one day a year.

As an adult, I sat by my boys' bedside sleepily whisper-singing Danny Boy and When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. I still sing those songs to myself, and often. They may not have grown up listening to the wild Irish drinking songs that I did, but I like to think I sang a little Irish into their souls, nevertheless.

We still eat corned beef and cabbage, and not just once a year. I still rock out to the Dropkick Murphy's and Flogging Molly, especially in the car when nobody's looking. And every year, on St. Patrick's Day, I wake up giddy and excited, and call my dad to wish him a happy Irish Day. I love the surprise in his voice each year, because really -- who calls to wish someone well on St. Patty's?

But it brings him to life, and it whisks me back to being a child giggling on the floor with my sister, racing to see who could sing The Rattlin' Bog the fastest. And for just a tiny moment, I'm small again, and everything is just right. So I call him, and we chat, and maybe laugh a little.

And it's amazing what an easy thing that is to do.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, friends! Take a moment to enjoy two of my favorite Irish lullabies!

Thursday's are Bittersweet

This is seriously rough. But this has been tumbling around in my head, refusing to let me write anything I'd actually want to share. If, after reading it, you find yourself wondering what on earth I'm talking about, go here.

Most days,

I’m okay.

Wake up.

Get dressed.

Feed dog.

Make coffee.

Drive to work.

Teach class.

Read, write.

Relate.

Communicate.

Go home.

But Thursday’s are bittersweet.

On Thursday:

Drive thirty minutes,

pick up the son

that doesn’t live here

Anymore.

Eat dinner.

Laugh.

Watch TV.

Play games.

Pretend

Everything is okay.

Time’s up.

Drive him home.

Share.

Connect.

One last hug;

One quick “I love you.”

Car door slams.

Exhale.

Swallow hard.

Push tears back.

Breathe.

Drive home.

Alone.

Missing the son

that doesn’t live here anymore.