....to Grandmother's house we go. This Friday, Will & I packed up and headed to Bolivar to visit my Grandpa who was in the Intensive Care Unit following a bad fall on Tuesday. What started as a simple fall has resulted in some pretty serious complications and my Grandpa is currently in the ICU in Springfield, MO in a medically induced coma and breathing with the help of a ventilator.
As I was driving through snow, ice, and rain to see him; I had a lot of time to think. I thought about both of my grandpas and the differences in both and the lessons they have taught me over the course of my life.
I think to outsiders, My Grandpa Stanley could have appeared to be a gruff man; he didn't always say a whole lot and he was very opinionated. However, when it came to his grandchildren, he melted quicker than a popsicle on the 4th of July. I always spent a week of my summers with them in their house by the lake. We did all the lake stuff - fishing, tubing, swimming, etc. He drove a semi and I loved to sit on his lap and "drive" the semi and "talk" on the CB radio. My Grandma always said only I could have convinced Grandpa to drive the boat to the Pizza Hut (a 15 minute drive; an almost 2 hour boat ride) just to "park" at their dock. He loved to tickle me and I loved to laugh with him. Once, he showed up at a craft show my parents were at, picked me up in his semi, and drove me to his house. Sounds simple, but I can't tell you how special I felt to be with him - just me. When he passed away, I was devastated. He'd been sick, but I don't believe anything ever really prepares you for the end. I had never experienced death this close before and it hurt in places I didn't realize I had. Death broke my heart in June of 2001. How often do I look at my husband and son and ache that they'll never meet my Grandpa Stanley. I can't help but imagine they would love him and there's no doubt that my Grandpa would have LOVED his great-grandchildren. I still miss him and can't help but think of him every time I smell someone smoking a pipe!!!
My Grandpa Chilcutt doesn't know a stranger. Saying that he loves to talk would be an understatement. In my almost thirty years on this earth, I've learned all I need to know about "good 'ol boys," "sodie pop," and "gali-vanting around" from him. He's a true family man in every sense of the word. Family is very important to him and I've never seen a man more devoted to his wife than my Grandpa. They married on Valentine's Day almost 60 years ago and I truly believe she's more his Valentine today than she was then. Sometimes, he used to scare me when I was little. Often, when I spend a week with them in the summers, my Grandma would get called in to work and I would be at home alone with Grandpa. While I probably didn't say two words to him, he'd fill in the silent spaces and once, I vividly recall having ice cream for dinner with him. Shhh...don't tell Grandma (or my mom!). He used to drive a brown, 4-door truck. This truck had one of those horns that played songs. You know, like revelry? I loved that horn.
Some of the most important life lessons I've learned were from my Grandpas. I learned to love my family, love Jesus, and to find a man that loves me more than life itself from my Grandpa Chilcutt. I learned to enjoy life, work hard, and that, sometimes, it's okay to have my own opinion from my Grandpa Stanley.
Two very different men, but I love them both so very much and without them my life would be so different. How blessed I am to have and to have had such influences in my life.
Last night, in the ICU waiting room, my mom told me the sweetest story. She told me that when my dad was in the hospital a couple years ago, my mom told the nurse that they had been married for 33 years and my dad had better be okay because it wasn't long enough. She said the nurse looked very surprised and said, "Really?" Mom told her that it wasn't; that she was praying for 33 more years and 33 more after that because it wasn't enough.
I think am understanding that more and more; not just with my husband and not just with life and death. In some circumstances; no length of time is enough.
I'm back at my home tonight thinking and praying for my Grandpa; feeling very helpless and very far away. I want him to know how much I love him and how he has to be okay because 83 years just isn't enough.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
SBA
I'll be honest; I've had a rough couple of weeks. This weekend, I had enough; all the events of the past couple weeks culminated and I lost it. My mother would refer to my behavior as my "SBA" (stinking bad attitude) and, man, did it rear its ugly head this weekend!
Between my newly acquired status as a working mom, coaching cheerleading (did you realize there were so many games in basketball season?), and all the other obligations that come from owning a home, being married, and rearing children...I'm about exhausted. Can I hear an amen??
On Tuesday, I wrote about my love of snow days. By Wednesday, the love had changed a little. Tuesday was fun with the baking and the family time (Daniel was snowed in with us). Wednesday, Daniel went back to work - taking my car, mind you, so that I couldn't get out of the house - I did taxes, painted my nails, and was immediately bored with being home. I posted my boredom on Facebook, knowing my husband would see it and thinking that, because he knew me so well, he would call and rescue me from my real-life snow drift by taking me out to eat. That didn't happen. Strike one. (In his defense: we did go out to eat...I just had to ask for it; his solution to my boredom was to take me to the grocery store!!! No thank you!)
Thursday, I was getting ready for work while Will was sleeping. I heard him waking up and I went to get him. I opened the door to his room and WOW! It smelled like a port-a-potty. Seriously. I took a deep breath of fresh, hallway air, and went in. There was baby poo everywhere. His diaper could not contain the seriousness of the poo and had released its' contents all over the crib. My beautiful, loveable, sweet son had, in his just-awake-confusion; rolled over in the poo so that it was on his front side AND his backside. There was poo EVERYWHERE. I picked him up - put him in the bathtub (clothes and all), stripped his room down and threw everything I could into the washer and lysoled the rest, called in sick to work, and began day number 3 of being stuck in the house. Strike two.
Saturday morning, my son awoke at 5am. Being the wonderful mother I am, I rolled over and turned down the baby monitor. That worked until around 6. Then I had to get up. Strike three.
My patience was OUT!
From the moment I rolled over and my feet hit the floor I was in a bad mood. First, why in the world can my son sleep until 8 or 8:30 on the weekdays and Sunday mornings, but has to get up at the crack of dawn every Saturday? Why? Secondly, why did I have to be the one who got up. I know that pile of sheets, pillows, and comforter next to me had to have heard that crying too....right??
We were to meet my parents for breakfast, but since we were up so early, we decided to go grocery shopping because no one would be out...right? WRONG. All the crazy people go to Walmart at 8am on Saturday morning. And, to end the wonderful Walmart experience, we got stuck behind a guy who bought $72 worth of cat food. And, he paid for it with 4 different credit cards. I don't make this stuff up, people!
On to breakfast with the fam. Since my son was up at 5 and it was now 10 and he'd had no nap; we had absolutely NO chance of making it through breakfast without a meltdown and about 20 minutes into breakfast, that is exactly what happened. Strike number 3,452,3240. My SBA was ready to beat some heads together.
We came home, put the child to bed, and I let my husband have it. Poor guy, he didn't even see it coming. Sometimes, I seriously envy the simplicity of most guys. My complexity is about to wear me out.
All day this went on. I cried so hard that I had to put on several layers of concealer before we went out that night and my eyes tingled and stung all evening long. I yelled, I cried, I stamped my feet, and said things that were probably really stupid. I threw a large, exaggerated temper tantrum and threw in a little pity party on the side. Looking back, I'm less than thrilled of the woman I was on Saturday. Proverbs 31?? I think not.
I love to write. I chose to write a blog because I've always wanted to write for other people. It's a vulnerable action. I've found that most of the time, when I'm vulnerable enough to share my life; my honest life, there's at least one or two people that share my feelings and have been through similar. So, I'm up late tonight, writing about my temper tantrum and my SBA because I know there's somebody out there who is going through the same thing right about now. And, while I wish I could tell you that I "considered it all joy" and got over it and was the better person, that's not the case. I'm still sitting here with a little bit of that SBA trying to peak through. I'm still sitting here feeling a little bit sorry for myself. I'm still sitting here thinking that if something else happens to me tomorrow; I may just come unglued. Heaven help us all....
Between my newly acquired status as a working mom, coaching cheerleading (did you realize there were so many games in basketball season?), and all the other obligations that come from owning a home, being married, and rearing children...I'm about exhausted. Can I hear an amen??
On Tuesday, I wrote about my love of snow days. By Wednesday, the love had changed a little. Tuesday was fun with the baking and the family time (Daniel was snowed in with us). Wednesday, Daniel went back to work - taking my car, mind you, so that I couldn't get out of the house - I did taxes, painted my nails, and was immediately bored with being home. I posted my boredom on Facebook, knowing my husband would see it and thinking that, because he knew me so well, he would call and rescue me from my real-life snow drift by taking me out to eat. That didn't happen. Strike one. (In his defense: we did go out to eat...I just had to ask for it; his solution to my boredom was to take me to the grocery store!!! No thank you!)
Thursday, I was getting ready for work while Will was sleeping. I heard him waking up and I went to get him. I opened the door to his room and WOW! It smelled like a port-a-potty. Seriously. I took a deep breath of fresh, hallway air, and went in. There was baby poo everywhere. His diaper could not contain the seriousness of the poo and had released its' contents all over the crib. My beautiful, loveable, sweet son had, in his just-awake-confusion; rolled over in the poo so that it was on his front side AND his backside. There was poo EVERYWHERE. I picked him up - put him in the bathtub (clothes and all), stripped his room down and threw everything I could into the washer and lysoled the rest, called in sick to work, and began day number 3 of being stuck in the house. Strike two.
Saturday morning, my son awoke at 5am. Being the wonderful mother I am, I rolled over and turned down the baby monitor. That worked until around 6. Then I had to get up. Strike three.
My patience was OUT!
From the moment I rolled over and my feet hit the floor I was in a bad mood. First, why in the world can my son sleep until 8 or 8:30 on the weekdays and Sunday mornings, but has to get up at the crack of dawn every Saturday? Why? Secondly, why did I have to be the one who got up. I know that pile of sheets, pillows, and comforter next to me had to have heard that crying too....right??
We were to meet my parents for breakfast, but since we were up so early, we decided to go grocery shopping because no one would be out...right? WRONG. All the crazy people go to Walmart at 8am on Saturday morning. And, to end the wonderful Walmart experience, we got stuck behind a guy who bought $72 worth of cat food. And, he paid for it with 4 different credit cards. I don't make this stuff up, people!
On to breakfast with the fam. Since my son was up at 5 and it was now 10 and he'd had no nap; we had absolutely NO chance of making it through breakfast without a meltdown and about 20 minutes into breakfast, that is exactly what happened. Strike number 3,452,3240. My SBA was ready to beat some heads together.
We came home, put the child to bed, and I let my husband have it. Poor guy, he didn't even see it coming. Sometimes, I seriously envy the simplicity of most guys. My complexity is about to wear me out.
All day this went on. I cried so hard that I had to put on several layers of concealer before we went out that night and my eyes tingled and stung all evening long. I yelled, I cried, I stamped my feet, and said things that were probably really stupid. I threw a large, exaggerated temper tantrum and threw in a little pity party on the side. Looking back, I'm less than thrilled of the woman I was on Saturday. Proverbs 31?? I think not.
I love to write. I chose to write a blog because I've always wanted to write for other people. It's a vulnerable action. I've found that most of the time, when I'm vulnerable enough to share my life; my honest life, there's at least one or two people that share my feelings and have been through similar. So, I'm up late tonight, writing about my temper tantrum and my SBA because I know there's somebody out there who is going through the same thing right about now. And, while I wish I could tell you that I "considered it all joy" and got over it and was the better person, that's not the case. I'm still sitting here with a little bit of that SBA trying to peak through. I'm still sitting here feeling a little bit sorry for myself. I'm still sitting here thinking that if something else happens to me tomorrow; I may just come unglued. Heaven help us all....
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Snow Days!
There are some things I don't have much of a problem considering the joy in. Snow days are one of those things.
Today was a snow day for the majority of the state of Missouri. I have never seen so many closings of malls, interstates, restaurants, etc. It's been crazy. I spent the day doing laundry, ironing, changing the sheets on my bed, and cooking. As I was catching up on these things, I couldn't help but reminisce...
Snow days as a kid were fantastic. Back in those dark ages, we didn't have the fancy text/phone/email messages to alert families when schools were closed. We had to watch for it on tv. I was lucky...my Aunt Linda worked for the school district and as soon as she got the call, she made sure we knew about it too.
The best snow days are those that are called the night before. First of all, I wouldn't have to finish my homework that night. I would wait until after Dad finished watching the 10:00 news, and then I'd put on a movie and stay up. The next morning, even thought I could sleep in, I was up early, excited that the day was mine! I would sled, have hot chocolate, and my mom and I would always bake cookies. We'd have grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch while watching Andy Griffith re-runs on tv. Then I'd watch another movie, pop popcorn, and wait for dad to come home. Those were the days...
In high school, my favorite snow days were the days school was cancelled due to wind chill. If the roads weren't bad, my friends and I would make plans to meet at the mall or go to the movies.
I don't think I've ever enjoyed snow days as much as when I became a teacher. A paid day off?? Really? Sign me up! Before I had my human alarm clock (A.K.A William), I would sleep in, eat junk for breakfast, watch tv, and stay in my pj's all day. Sometimes Daniel would get to stay home with me too. The day off together was always a nice treat.
With my fond memories of snow days, I hope that I can make our unexpected days at home fond memories for my family. We're starting our own traditions and still keeping some of the old (we've already made cookies today!).
Even as an adult, there is just something about a snow day. Though my day was spent doing chores, it was a nice day at home. Had I been thinking in the rush before the storm, I would have made sure I had the ingredients for snow ice cream. Maybe next time. We're supposed to get more snow this weekend!
Today was a snow day for the majority of the state of Missouri. I have never seen so many closings of malls, interstates, restaurants, etc. It's been crazy. I spent the day doing laundry, ironing, changing the sheets on my bed, and cooking. As I was catching up on these things, I couldn't help but reminisce...
Snow days as a kid were fantastic. Back in those dark ages, we didn't have the fancy text/phone/email messages to alert families when schools were closed. We had to watch for it on tv. I was lucky...my Aunt Linda worked for the school district and as soon as she got the call, she made sure we knew about it too.
The best snow days are those that are called the night before. First of all, I wouldn't have to finish my homework that night. I would wait until after Dad finished watching the 10:00 news, and then I'd put on a movie and stay up. The next morning, even thought I could sleep in, I was up early, excited that the day was mine! I would sled, have hot chocolate, and my mom and I would always bake cookies. We'd have grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch while watching Andy Griffith re-runs on tv. Then I'd watch another movie, pop popcorn, and wait for dad to come home. Those were the days...
In high school, my favorite snow days were the days school was cancelled due to wind chill. If the roads weren't bad, my friends and I would make plans to meet at the mall or go to the movies.
I don't think I've ever enjoyed snow days as much as when I became a teacher. A paid day off?? Really? Sign me up! Before I had my human alarm clock (A.K.A William), I would sleep in, eat junk for breakfast, watch tv, and stay in my pj's all day. Sometimes Daniel would get to stay home with me too. The day off together was always a nice treat.
With my fond memories of snow days, I hope that I can make our unexpected days at home fond memories for my family. We're starting our own traditions and still keeping some of the old (we've already made cookies today!).
Even as an adult, there is just something about a snow day. Though my day was spent doing chores, it was a nice day at home. Had I been thinking in the rush before the storm, I would have made sure I had the ingredients for snow ice cream. Maybe next time. We're supposed to get more snow this weekend!
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