Memorial Day

This post is a little late, but here's some pictures from when we visited Grandpa and Grandma Elings gravesite. There's also a picture of Grandpa & Grandma's trailer (it's been re-sided, but it's the same trailer!), and a picture of Bert's (Grandpa's) Barber Shop and the Graves Hotel where Grandma worked as a maid for many many years.

Sydney's Preschool Graduation

Here's a little song from Syd's preschool graduation. Very Cute! She did so well. Didn't cry when she got up there or anything! And that little bitty church was PACKED!!! Of course, I bawled like a baby.

Notes on Being a Mom

My brother sent me this e-mail today. It really made me stop and think. . . I so relate to what she says, even though my babies are still my babies and still need me.

Notes on Motherhood By Anna Quindlen,
Newsweek Columnist and Author

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, and one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education -- all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages, dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old that did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did" Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language -- mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I include that here.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top.

And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Cub Choir Concert

Here's the last song they sang at Morgan's Cub Choir Concert on Friday, May 16th. It was awesome! She did great. Mom cried a little bit when they sang this song.

The Cough

I HATE The Cough. When I was little, I remember having The Cough in the middle of the night waking everybody up. My mom would get up and give me cough syrup with codeine (nasty!) and my dad would get mad because I would cough and cough. As I got older, my parents would have me get up and drink hot tea with honey in it--much better than the cough syrup with Codeine, but it took a while for The Cough to go away.

Now, as a mom, The Cough haunts me. When Morgan was a baby, she got a really bad cold at Christmas time. I remember the barking sound. It was terrible, and we went through many sleepless nights. She ended up having croup at one point. That was scary. I remember sitting in the bathroom with her just running the shower and getting the steam going. It didn't seem to help until the doctor gave us the croup medicine (predisolone--a form of prednisone). From then on, that was the only thing that would stop The Cough. She had it every winter, and it was hell--I felt so bad for her--her little body would just shake and she would be exhausted. It almost makes me cry to think about how much she suffered. She was such a trooper. When I had Sydney, Morgan had The Cough while we were in the hospital, and I remember thinking the nurses were going to kick her out it was so bad. Finally, the day care provider told us that she thought Morgan had asthma, and gave us the name of a specialist to take her to. Morgan was very sick at the time. So, we went to see Dr. Davis, and sure enough, she diagnosed Morgan with Asthma. In addition, Morgan had Pneumonia--it was so scary. That started the breathing treatments--Morgan hated them--and the prednisolone--which really kicked The Cough in the butt--thank goodness. Then we took Morgan back the next year with the same symptoms and she had a sinus infection--they were going to do a Cat Scan of her head to make sure, and it scared the hell out of me--I remember crying (I'm such a wimp!). Once again, Morgan was a trooper.

Well, The Cough came back--along with the pangs in my stomach (it literally makes me nauseous to listen to her)--we were doing so well--Morgan's been off her nightly medication since early last fall, and she has barely had any colds. I think this time it's allergies--she's been complaining of sinus headaches, and now with the 'post nasal drip' The Cough reared it's ugly head. I HATE IT. We were up with her twice last night. I don't want to start the breathing treatments again, but we might have to. Morgan had a concert today--her Cub Choir group is singing to some teachers that are retiring--and heaven forbid she miss school. So, off she went--barking along--even after getting some over-the-counter medicine. I hope she makes it through. Her concert to the parents is Friday, and she is determined that she is not going to miss it. . . I hope she's better by then. Poor thing.

Mother's Day 2008

Happy Mother's Day!!!

We took this picture at Pictograph State Park not far from our house. I had a wonderful Mother's Day! I think it was the best one yet. Mom came out after Church and Kory went into town and picked up Texas Roadhouse for us. It was so nice--I didn't have to cook, and just had to clean up a little bit--and Kory did most of that! Then Mom and I went for a drive which she really enjoyed. I showed her the new middle school that is being built out here in Lockwood, and then I drove her up into Emerald Hills so she could see where the fire went last summer. She said she really had a great time. Then she went to Roger and Diana's, and we got ready and took some pictures. Now I'm at home checking out all the bad ones and finding all the good ones. I don't think there is one bad one of Morgan--little Miss Photogenic!

Good thing we're home now--it's pouring rain!

Montana Women's Run

Wow--what a great morning we had!! Morgan and I joined my sister and some friends along with 6400 other women in downtown Billings for the annual Women's Run on Saturday, May 10th. Now, I have NEVER been a runner. But, I have been going to the YMCA twice a week (okay, I've missed a few times) and working with a trainer that teaches a class called "Activate America". Well, I've really been pushing myself (last week too hard) and I have noticed a huge difference in my leg strength and my knees. I've even been running on the treadmill off and on. So, Saturday morning, squeezed in among thousands of women, I was so excited--excited to actually run part of the race and be among all these women--it is always inspiring to me. It also brings out my competetive side (who knew sweet little ol' me had a competetive streak?). So, when the race started, my little Morgan said, "c'mon Mom!" and off we ran holding hands. It was the greatest feeling having her at my side. I now know what runners call that feeling of euphoria--I had it. I could have run a lot more, but Morgan and my friend Sarah were pretty tired--so we would walk, and then I would get them going again and we would run some more. I'm excited to see where I placed. I know I didn't place very high--but I DO know it's higher than last year because I was way towards the bottom in my age group last year--which is fine--I was just walking it last year to be with my friends and enjoy myself. This year I wanted to push myself, and I did. We crossed the finish line and started walking towards the car (which was parked WAY far away). As we walked, a lot of people stopped us to talk to Morgan and asked her if she ran with her mom. They were so impressed that she would do that and told her so. I told them all what a great job she did. It was the best Mother's Day present!!! As soon as I get the picture of me and Morgan, I'll post it here.

Happy Mother's Day to all the great women in my life.

Blessed

As I was preparing for my customer service team meeting this morning, I came across this page from a seminar I attended last week. Then I thought to myself that I should have read this yesterday when I was feeling sorry for myself. Here it is:

Blessed

If you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the millions who will not survive the week.

If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture or the pangs of starvation, you are ahead of 500 million people around the world.

If you attend a church meeting without fear of harrassment, arrest, or death, you are more blessed than almost 3 billion poeple in the world.

If you have food in your refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of this world.

If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish some place, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.

If you hold up your head with a smile on your face, and are truly thankful, you are blessed because the majority can, but most do not.

I need to paste this to my bathroom mirror so I see it first thing in the morning. . .

Appreciation

I don't mean to turn this into a negative post, but it's how I'm feeling today. I literally am feeling unappreciated. Not only at work, but at home. Maybe even moreso at home. The girls have terrible manners--and I hate to nag--but I find myself doing it all the time. They are lazy--they hate to pick up their toys--the shoes or coats don't go in the garage when they take them off--or when they do they are just thrown in there. Sad to say I'm doing the same thing because I'm so sick of it that I just have to not care--but the problem is I do. I nag Kory a lot lately too I think. I don't mean to, but some days I have just had enough, and to see what is going on around my house literally makes me not care. This gets back to the title of this blog ". . . loads of laundry". I know it bugs Kory that I don't hang clothes up after I wash them--but why should I? Why should I even try to keep anything straight at my house, because the second I do, it just goes back to the same old bad habits, and I'm the only one trying to change them (and obviously the nagging doesn't work). Then, there will be one day where I get mad enough and everybody gets whipped into shape, and then that's as long as it lasts, and once again I am discouraged. Why is this? Why does it have to be this way? Did Kory's mom pick up everything for him? I don't know--he is way better at hanging up his laundry than I am mine--but other than that, there are things that are just left wherever they land. And not that I'm perfect about it either, but every time I come up with a system it just gets screwed up.

Another thing today--I asked Kory if he had anything planned for Mother's Day, and he said no. Hmmm--I'm a little hurt. He hadn't even given it a thought. Now granted, I get some pretty nice things from Kory, and he's usually pretty thoughtful, but lately maybe I've been too big of a witch for him to care. I don't know. I was basically asking because I was going to have Mom come out for dinner on Sunday, but if he had something planned I would do it Saturday. Then he asked me what I wanted to do. What? What happened to just taking the initiative and planning something? Maybe he thinks that I won't be happy with his choice, so it's just easier not to do anything. I really don't know.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful. . . because I am pretty blessed in this life. . . but this is how I am feeling today.

My First Post

Who knew I would start blogging? Certainly not me. I guess I have been influenced by my sister and my cousin. So here goes. What's with my title? Well, I guess I have to say I am a pretty fortunate person, set aside all my worries, fears and doubts. And then there's the laundry room. It pretty much portrays how I feel inside most days--all messy and full of things that should be put away (worries) but still just lay there in my way when I try to wash things that need to be cleaned. So, maybe this blog will motivate me to take some control and put those dumb things away--then again maybe not. I figure it can't hurt, right?

So, keep reading. . . maybe things will start to make sense to you and to me. . .