My Uncle -the last Great Cowboy

I remember when I was in college my roommate needing to do this project.  She was an art major so her "projects:" were very different from mine.  Anyway, she had to do this project where she created a piece of artwork while listening to one single song.  I did my part to support her, I provided the song.

So I was thinking about this tonight and how a song can inspire so so so much!  I have friends who are incredibly creative and can make those songs.  Kudos to you all!  We, in the writing world, appreciate your inspiration.  It is your songs that can inspire us "artists of the written word" to write.

Tonight I am inspired to write and I won't tell you which song inspired my words...you just have to guess.

I was thinking about life today, thinking about how I feel about it all.  So often we mess it all up in our minds and make it so incredibly complicated that at the end of the day we can't see the forest for the trees. Or maybe that's just me that does that.  Yeah right!  You know you are right there with me.

So....we complicate things.  Yep.  We work ourselves all up with some insane and incredible thing that is going on and we can't function.  I am reminded of something my Dad said FAR TO OFTEN to me in my life...Don't sweat the small stuff and at the end of the day it's ALL small stuff".  I hated him for that.  But, as long as you promise not to tell him I will admit...under diress...he was right.  Shhhhhh!  Seriously, I'll take down you and your lineage if you tell him I said he was right!  Test me!  Go ahead and try.  I will plead the 5th!

There is someone that has been on my mind alot today who knew just how to keep it simple and not complicate everything.  He focused on the things that were important to him.

Yesterday I was reminded of what time of year it was.  Tomorrow will be 3 whole years since I lost my Uncle.  A quiet man and a quiet goodbye.  I have never once put into words what he meant to me...until now.  He didn't have the greatest "reputation", I don't mean that people thought he was an awful person or anything - he just lived by a different set of rules than most.  He didn't own a thing beyond what he could fit in his car.  He certainly didn't leave this huge trust to his kids or family.  What he left us was his sweat stained hats, worn out boots, a trunk load of stuffed animals he won at the crane game, some pictures of his kids which were golden to him, and some clothes.  If I was describing just a Joe Schmo you wouldn't think much of him.  But, because you are reading this you are someone who loves me and know that I loved him so you think more.

So, take a minute, and learn about a person who didn't have a pot to piss in BUT he had a fire in him that was like kindling to his niece...me.

I was ALWAYS soooooo proud to call him my Uncle.  I was surrounded throughout my life with wanna-be's.  Not my Uncle.  I was so so proud to tell people that MY Uncle was a REAL cowboy.  He never once lived by anybody else's rules, he lived by his own.  Money?  That was never his motivator.  Things?  Didn't care about those either.

I was maybe 5 or 6.  It was a typical Sunday afternoon.  We went to church and my Mom had my hair all up in curls to look pretty. We always went to Grandpa and Grandma's farm for Sunday Dinner.  My Uncle Lou showed up so proud to show off the two new colts he bought.  The adult in me now understands how big of a deal that was for him and how come he wanted to show off those beautiful colts.  I...took one look at those colts and would not be happy unless I was on the back of one of them. He bought them as a proud Papa for his boy but he had to get through me, his niece, first.  I wouldn't take NO for an answer.

He put me on that colt, my parents and grandparents all in a worry as that colt wasn't broken in.  But me?  I can't explain it but I wasn't worried....not even just a little.   I willingly jumped on the bare back of that colt...ready to ride.  I can still feel it as if it just happened.  My legs, albeit small at that age, wrapped around that colt.  True to form, he was not as excited for the introduction as I was.  As soon as my legs wrapped around him he started bucking, and bucking hard.  It didn't take much and I was airborne.  My Uncle, who was so proud of his purchase and what he brought to his parents' house let that colt go as soon as I hit the air and I was the only thing that mattered.  Why wasn't I worried to get on that colt?  Safety.  I KNEW he'd catch me if I fell.

My Uncle Lou was a real cowboy.  He had hard livin written all over his face.  He was a shot of Whiskey and a beer on Sunday.  A roll-your-own filterless cigarette smokin, hard drinkin, lovin your family, horse breakin kind of guy.  He had a Sunday Church hat and an everyday sweat-on-your-brow hat.  These weren't baseball caps...these were cowboy hats and he wore the strength of our ancestors in those hats.

I remember the last time I saw him.  He was the same sense of soft-spoken strength that I'd always known.  It was my Grandma's funeral.  He was the same as he'd always been to me and we could communicate without saying much at all.  See I was one of the oldest of the grandkids, my brother only older than me.  I am forever thankful to be so because as we have lost so many family members I enjoy that I got to know them as a kid and as an adult.  I drove with him, Uncle Jim, me and Mark...the smokers.  I think now three years later how special that moment was since I have now lost both those uncles.  I wouldn't trade that moment for all the money in the world!!!

I have been sooo incredibly blessed!  I never lacked for anything - that was important!  I am a strong, stable, to-it-myself girl today because of where I come from.  My Uncle Lou came into this world weak and feeble.  He left this world strong, weathered, and loved!

I have a display on my mantle today.  It is his sweat stained workin cowboy hat, his big belt buckle, and some seriously worn in boots.  I look at them daily and am reminded of where I come from, who's strength I need to stack up to, where I've been, and what I want to raise my kids to be.

A shot of whiskey and a beer...a strength when there was none, a constant that would always been there, a weathered and worn face, but always, always, always one that had time for others.

So, what's the song that inspired my thoughts tonight?  Dolly Parton - I Will Always Love You

I an still sooo soooo sooo PROUD to tell people that YOU are MY Uncle.  You were the sun at the end of a storm in so many ways for me.  So humbly lived, so incredibly admired, so very missed!

The Natural Childbirth Debate

So I was on facebook early this morning and came across a discussion, well more of an argument, regarding "natural childbirth".  The poster of this "discussion" was talking about how she's had seven kids.  The first three she had au naturale and the last four she opted for whatever and however many drugs they could pump in her to eliminate the pain and then wondered why on earth she chose natural with her first three.  She was also implying that there is a great deal of judgement from others for not having all her kids natural.  There is when the argument started.  Pro-natural birthers gave their opinions and experiences, as well as citing the dangers of drugs during birth.  Anti-natural birthers chose to focus on the belief that it didn't really matter as that's not what made them a mother, and then bashed the pro-natural birthers for making them feel bad about their decision.  So, I thought about this discussion, my views on it, and where I stand in the debate.  I did not participate in their banter back and forth and chose to blog about it myself.  Ha!

So, here's my take.  For those of you reading this who have not yet had your first child and tangle with this decision yourself here's one mother's opinion.  For the record, whether it's my opinion or someone else's I have a firm belief that, and I will make this the G rated version, "opinions are like butts, everyone has one and they all stink.

I have three kids.  I love all three of my babies and am so thankful everyday that I was given the opportunity to carry each one of them for 9+ months in my womb under my heart.  Yes, that is right - 9+ months since none of mine were on time.  I made the decision while pregnant with my first to go the "non-traditional" route in birthing my kids.  I say non-traditional because in this day and age with modern medicine it is not considered normal to WANT to birth your kids au naturale.  All three of my very big babies were born in a birth center, not a hospital.  I didn't have a doctor, I had a midwife and a doula.  My kids were water babies and it was excruciatingly painful!  I have honestly basked in the comments I get from other moms like "you are amazing", "you are quite the woman", or "you are insane".  But, to be fair had I had my kids in a hospital I would have caved and went for the drugs I am sure of it.  However, being in a birth center drugs were not available so therefor not an option for me.  I should also tell you that my babies were huge.  8'8", 10'5", and 8'14".  Can you tell which birth weight belonged to my son?  Yes, I am shewoman hear me roar!

But here's the thing about where I stand on this debate.  I had my kids natural.  I HATE hospitals and I HATE someone standing over me telling me what to do or how to do it, or not allowing me to do what I want - ie. walk around vs laying in a bed.  I am thankful that I did what I did and chose how I chose.  Am I proud of my accomplishment in doing "natural childbirth"?  Hell yes I am !!!  I am always happy to share my experience with soon-to-be moms who ask and want to know how that experience was for me and why I chose it.  But, I do not think less of any other mom out there who chose different than me.  I do not think I'm more of a mom for my way but I also do not think that they are better than I because they chose modern medicine.  Now, I will say this.  My stance on the drug labor is that it doesn't give us women a chance to see how strong we really are.  Those that have said to me "I could never do that" my response is always the same.  "yes you could, you just don't know it because you didn't do it".  We women are so much stronger than we give ourselves credit for.

Having said all that now, why in the H-E-double hockey sticks are we debating on it?  We debate on how to birth children, we debate on how to potty train them, we debate on how to punish our children, we debate on homeschooling vs. public school vs. private school, we debate on bottle vs. breast - which for the record is a HUGE hot button for me since I come from a family of women who simply don't produce enough milk to feed our children and I chose not to starve mine, kind of tired of people making me feel bad for that choice.  But why are we debating?  Are you a Mom?  Did your child/children come out of your womb made by you?  Did you make that noble, yes noble, decision to adopt someone else's child and make them your own?  If yes to any or all of these questions is yes then dammit YOU'RE the M-O-M!  Who cares what other people think and who cares that they chose different than you or that you chose different than them.  Those babies are yours, nobody else's so it is YOUR decision!!!!  You do what's best for you and your baby and I'll do the same for me and mine.  I had my kids natural because that was what worked best FOR ME.  But I will never condemn anyone else for making a decision different than mine because...well, it's their decision and they aren't me.  Nor am I them.  Let's celebrate each other not make each other feel bad for the decisions that we make regarding our children.  Good Lord, we will feel bad enough throughout raising them for the mistakes we make.

At the end of the day I am reminded of something I said right after my first child was born.  I had just finished 23 hours of "natural childbirth", my husband and I were in the water together and I was holding her for the first time right after my husband's hands were the first ones to touch her and help her out of me.  I looked at him with nothing but love in my eyes and in my heart and I said, "She's perfect.  God made her absolutely beautiful and perfect.  It's only us that can screw her up now."

Swim lesson by my 10 yr old

Hi my name is Sandy and I am a Swim Team Mom.  That is a title that I wear and love.  It carries alot of emotion with it, far more than I am willing to get in to now so we'll just leave it with the title of Swim Team Mom.

So, as a swim team mom I spend every night poolside while my kids are in practice.  Every Saturday morning my husband and I get up at the crack of dawn to cheer on our 3 little munchkins in their swim meets.   We celebrate the little wins with them and are blissfully happy with being the obnoxious parents on the sidelines screaming at the top of our lungs "PULL" and running along the side with them as the swim.  All the while, by the way, thinking that these kids can actually hear us...which they can't...but we don't care.  We are "those" parents.

So today, like any other day, I was sitting poolside watching my kids in practice.  One of their coaches asked me yesterday if the kids could stay for the following practice as well as doing their own practice.  I, of course, said YES.  My kids have some amazing coaches who have helped them reach a potential, a confidence, and a skill set that I've not seen them achieve until this year.  As a result I am more than willing to accept any additional instruction they can get.  So the kids swam during their practice, 45 minutes, and then swam with the older kids during their practice, another 45 minutes.  It is here that I learned a lesson from my 10 yr old.

Ariana...how do I describe her.  She is our oldest, so our first.  She gave us the biggest lesson in what it really meant to be a parent and care about someone else more than yourself straight out of the shoot by spending her first week of life in the NICU.  Since then she has had eye surgery, she has lazy eye, she will have surgery again soon, her eyes don't work together so she has confidence issues, she is shy and introverted by nature, and she is dyslexic.  Oft times she will ask me "why did God pick me for this".  She has to fight, claw, and dig deep for everything she does and accomplishes.  We enrolled her in swim team because it gave her a "level" playing field.  It was the one sport that didn't depend so much on her eye sight nor "on land" coordination, which she struggles with because her eyes don't want to work together.

The kids swam, with the two practice sessions, I figured out a total of about 1800 yards.  I watched Ariana practicing.  She got tired, real tired.  She could have quit...but she didn't.  She had a moment of "oh crap, I can't do that" and at that moment her coach (who must have seen the look in her eyes) said, "Ariana, you can do this, I know you can"  So she did.  She is not the fastest swimmer, she's not the best swimmer.  Heck, her dive pretty much sucks, she's not great at the turns, BUT she doesn't quit.  She knows she's probably not going to be #1 but she doesn't care.  She still works just as hard as if she might just win this time.

Even in school, this child has to work 10 times harder than any other student for every grade, trying to make up for how her dyslexia complicates things.  Her teacher told me the other day that even on days that you can tell Ariana doesn't want to be there she still gives 100% every single day.  That impresses the heck out of me.  Not to mention, she's pulling all A's and only one B.  She would have every reason in the book to quit, give up, slack off because she's got an excuse to do so.  But, she doesn't.  She works harder and smarter and loves to learn.

So I thought about that.  So often we can feel defeated or that we can't win.  Does that mean we quit?  NO!!!!  Take a lesson from my 10 yr old.  When your hurdles are greater than others and you are not the best of the best, don't quit!  When there's boulders in your path that seem so big, keep fighting and keep going.  You may not be the fastest but what matters most is that you finish.

Ariana, because of her personality, is afraid of every new thing.  But she willingly accepts each new challenge and takes it on head first.  She's not afraid to work.  Even if she won't "win" she will still give 100% effort.  THAT, my friends, is winning.

Point is, we all have hurdles.  We all have challenges.  Don't quit dammit!  If my 10 yr old can keep going so can we!

Eastertide...what does that mean?

I really can't believe that I am posting about Easter Season!  I started this blog back in January, right after the holidays, which does not seem like that long ago.  Time is just rolling on by, which I could really expand upon but that is for a whole different blog post.  This one, this one is about something that is at the root of my  existence.  My foundation.  My life.  My faith.

What is Easter to you?  What does it mean?  I know for most, myself included, it means family time.  A ham dinner at a nicely decorated spring table with family and friends seated around.  It means pretty little girls all dressed up in the most beautiful dresses us Mommies can find to compliment our, of course, already beautiful girls.  Their hair all done up with bows, curls, and maybe even pigtails.  Little white gloves, new spring dress shoes, tights, and purses to match their new dress.  Our boys, well they cannot be forgotten on this day either.  I love seeing my boy on Easter with a new Easter outfit.  (boys hate it when you call it an outfit by the way)  We get them new church shoes and a "set" complete with khakis pants, a freshly pressed button down collared shirt, a sweater vest, and a tie to complete the ensemble.  Here in Texas it's actually warm at Easter so my son tends to prefer the sets that come with shorts vs. khakis.  But, you get the point.  It's a time to get dressed up in our Easter best and then send our kids outside in the dirt to hunt for eggs that the Easter Bunny has left out in the yard.  Kind of funny when you think about it, dress them all up, in light colored clothes no less, and then send them out to dirt and grass.  Not the smartest activity we parents have created.

But, is that what this season is all about?  In more recent years, I think we've done a better job of remembering "the reason for the season" and I think in large part to the commercial success of a certain Easter movie called "The Passions of the Christ".  I know soooo many people that make a point of watching that movie at this time of year.  If you don't believe me on this, just try to go to your local video store (if there are still any) or order on Netflix and see if you have any luck finding one in stock.  Walk through your local department store.  This time of year they always have a newly displayed section right in the front of the DVD department with multiple copies of the movie for purchase.  Not to be a downer but it is really kind of sad when you think about it that it's the success of a movie that has spawned people to at least watch it to remember what really happened to create this season, this holiday.  But, we can also look at it as a positive that people ARE really taking the time to remember.

I hope I don't offend anyone here and I certainly don't mean to but just think about it for a minute.  People won't go to church all year, not any given Sunday....except Christmas and Easter.  It is nice to see that with all the changes we've made, all the Politically Correctness we feel we need to have, the removal of God from so much that was the foundation of this great country, at least we still...at least somewhat...give God, and Jesus, their days...twice a year.

This season, the season of Easter, is soooo emotional.  Or is that just me?  Christmas is a beautiful time of year when we remember the birth of Jesus.  Who can't be happy celebrating a birth right!?  But Easter, now that's the time when we remember that he died.  For us.  Jesus had to be a man, made of flesh and blood.  He had to go through unspeakable pain and suffering in his final days leading up to his death.  For us.  For me Easter is a reminder each time I go to church and take that communion wafer, the body and blood of Christ.  Think about what...that...means.  I've been known to get a bit teary eyed on Easter Sunday in taking my communion wafer because I am reminded of all that he had to endure.  I often think about, now as a mom myself, how Mary must have felt.  I cannot even imagine how heart wrenching it must have been for her to watch her son hanging there.  Yes, he is the Son of God.  Yes, she knew that.  But yes, he still grew in her womb and she still raised and protected him, as any mother would do, as he grew up into the man that now hung on a cross with a crown of thorns piercing into his flesh.  Yikes!!!  It gets me emotional just to type these words now.

My point here is this.  I am not saying that we shouldn't decorate eggs, wait for the Easter Bunny to arrive, celebrate a happy family time, or enjoy our day off on Good Friday.  (that's if your company allows you to have that day off)  We should enjoy all of that.  But, let's also not forget why we are celebrating this time either.  Don't forget he's the reason for the season.  He went through all of that pain, all of that suffering, all of that anguish for each and every one of us.  The least we can do is take the time to remember him for it.  And thank him.

Finding yourself

Somewhere way back in my memory bank I remember being a little girl.  A little girl with light blonde hair, a silly little smile, too tall for her age, yet so small there was still no better place than Mommy's arms.  A little girl who even at that young age found my greatest enjoyment in observing others.  My oldest memory was at the age of I am guessing 2.  I know this because I know about how old I was when we moved to Montana and I met all my Aunts and Uncles for the first time.  Well, the first time that I remember anyway.  I remember my Mom having a conversation with my Aunt Jane in the upstairs "girls" room at my Grandparents farm.  I very vividly remember pulling my head all the way back to look up at my Aunt and walking in circles around her completely mesmerized by her.  I remember her quiet little laugh and asking my Mom, "what is she doing?"  My Mom's reply, "I think she likes your long hair.  She's never seen anybody with that long of hair before."  And she was right.  I remember just thinking she was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!  She had the most beautiful hair I'd ever seen.  As I grew I continued to think so and every Sunday when we would go to my Grandparents house for dinner I would spend time brushing her hair.

Memories are a beautiful thing.  They take us back in time for just a moment to re-live a more carefree day.  I often wonder as my children grow, what their earliest memory will be.  Lord, I pray it's a good one.  But have you noticed that when life gets tough, things are difficult, we are going through a traumatic time, or we're just simply having a bad day our brains know we need a "breathe escape", as I like to call them.  Breathe escapes are those times where you can just for a moment, for a breathe, close your eyes and go back in time to something peaceful, something simple, something stress-free.  A time when you didn't have the cares or the burdens that are currently weighing heaving and pushing down on your already tired and weak shoulders.   It's almost like going to the gym, these breathe escapes give us strength.  All in one single, deep, comforting breathe.

I don't know if you are a religious person or not.  I am and I believe that the human body is the most, for lack of a better word, AWESOME creation to date and was created by God.  It far surpasses any discovery or invention science and medicine has ever created.  Every single piece of our bodies was designed so specifically and with such purpose.  Ask any doctor or nurse and they will tell you that the human body in all it's parts and purpose is truly miraculous.  Even our little breathe escapes.  How great it is that when creating the human being God gave us a memory.  He didn't have to but he did.  He gave us a way to look back, that our brains can actually not just remember but visualize every detail of an event we wish to recall.  And to find peace in those moments so that we can see that we too will get through this, this difficult thing that is lying right in front of us.  I have a few "stand by" breathe escapes that my brain instantly recalls at a moments notice.

A lesson I learned during my pregnancies and subsequent labors of my three natural childbirths from my doula validates exactly what I am talking about.  She told me to find a memory, a peaceful memory that made me feel good.  During those contractions take yourself back to that place, that time, that moment.  Think of every single detail of that event, every sight, sound, smell, taste and feeling.  Describe it down to the smallest, most insignificant detail.  It draws your focus away from the pain you are feeling at the time and brings you to a calmer, peaceful, comforting place.  For me that time and that place was when my husband and I were very newly married.  We went to a lake up in northern Minnesota Labor Day weekend.  It was just he and I on the boat out in the middle of the lake fishing right at sunset.  We had anchored the boat and were just sitting out there.  There were no other boats around us so it was just the sounds of nature and the zing of line from our fishing poles casting into the water.  There was a slight chill in the air as fall was fast approaching and summer was clearly over.  The ever so slight breeze that brushed the stray strands of my hair against my face, the smell of the abundance of trees around us gracefully providing fresh air and oxygen into our bodies to rejuvenate.  The sun slowly descending from the sky leaving the most beautiful array of colors; reds, pinks, orange, mixed with traces of blue that weren't quite ready to give up to the setting sun just yet.  The smell of campfires off in the distance from fellow vacationers ready to welcome the evening with family and friends, enjoying it's warmth.  The sound of the water gently lapping up against the boat as we swayed to nature's music.  The sound of the loons providing the song for God's nightly lullaby.  The occasional splash in the water from a fish jumping up to catch a brief glimpse of all this glory.  That ever so sweet taste of being home, home to my beautiful landscape of God's pallet, Minnesota.  All this grandeur of nature at it's finest surrounding us with a welcoming invitation to enjoy this moment with them. True peaceful, natural, priceless beauty there to ignite each and every one of our wonderful senses.  Just describing it now brings me back to that place and I feel that familiar, wonderful sense of peace and comfort.  I have used this moment so many times in my life I can recall each detail with a blink.  And it's what gets me through a tough day, a painful moment, or a difficult time.

When you can do this, you find yourself in that moment.  You find yourself, your strength, and what you are made of...in that one single moment.  So I ask now, let's see who really reads my blog.  What is that moment for you?  Where is your peaceful place?  What is your breathe escape?  If you don't have one, find one.  Let's see where it leads you.  Take yourself away from all the titles that describe you (wife, husband, mother, father, child, student, doctor, artist, etc. etc. etc.) and find you, just plain ole peaceful, happy you.

Thoughts of a troubled mind late at night...

I am sitting here at 12:41am in my house, catching up on some newsletters my mom sent me, then poking around on facebook, all with a cup of coffee in my hand, and now I'm...blogging.  Yeah, I know I'm a crazy nutcase.  I have three kids to get up for school in the morning and I really should be sleeping.  Most definitely I should not be drinking coffee but my mind won't turn off tonight.  

As I was catching up on all these social mediums a question popped in my head.  What do we spend our time on?  Where do we spend our time?  What are we doing with that ever so precious commodity, time?  The ever elusive "more time" never seems to happen yet we spend so much time on useless, mindless activity.  Let's take television for example, since it's been on my radar this week.  It is insane how much time is spent in front of a television set, video game, computer, etc.  In my house with my kids this is all lumped together and referred to as "screen time".  I was curious on what the statistics are out there regarding just one of the screens, television.  Here are some shocking statistics.  By the way, for those researcher nuts out there that are going to question where I got these facts, this is from the A.C. Nielson Co.

• The number of hours of TV watched annually by Americans is 250 billion hours
• Value of that time assuming a mere $5 per hour wage is $1.25 trillion  
• The average American watches more than 4 hours of TV a day.  
• Assuming a 65 year life span that equates out to 9 years of a person's life is glued to the tube.  
• Number of minutes per week that parents spend in meaningful conversation with their children: 3.5
• Number of minutes per week that the average child watches television: 1,680
• Percentage of day care centers that use TV during a typical day: 70
• Percentage of parents who would like to limit their children's TV watching: 73
• Percentage of 4-6 year-olds who, when asked to choose between watching TV and spending time with their fathers, preferred television: 54
• Hours per year the average American youth spends in school: 900 hours
• Hours per year the average American youth watches television: 1500

Now, get this.  To close out my stats, based on these findings and found in the same report it states this: Millions of Americans are so hooked on television that they fit the criteria for substance abuse as defined in the official psychiatric manual, according to Rutgers University psychologist and TV-Free America board member Robert Kubey. Heavy TV viewers exhibit five dependency symptoms--two more than necessary to arrive at a clinical diagnosis of substance abuse. These include: 1) using TV as a sedative; 2) indiscriminate viewing; 3) feeling loss of control while viewing; 4) feeling angry with oneself for watching too much; 5) inability to stop watching; and 6) feeling miserable when kept from watching.


I have to willingly admit that I have enjoyed my fair share of television in my day.  And I still do enjoy watching certain shows on TV but as I've aged I've also come to a point where the whole thing is really starting to make me angry.  I am not saying anything against any one company because truthfully, all the television providers are equally as successful at taking advantage of these statistics and using them to their advantage.  They make a great deal of money, and they surely have made their fair share off me and my family.  But, no more.  We use to have the "Ultimate" plan.  I have downgraded our plan now to the bare minimum, it doesn't even have a name nor is listed on their website as an offering, the plan I like to refer to as the Geo Metro Plan.  As soon as our contract is up we will downgrade again to the Netflix plan, which I look forward to calling my Hallelujah Plan!  Time to get away from the television.

Just think about those statistics for a moment.  9 years of a person's life is spent watching TV.  Ask a person at the end of their life if they could get those 9 years back would they do it the same, would they spend those 9 years watching television?  Or would they do something different with that time?  I don't know if anyone reads these blog posts of mine since I only have one follower, my forever supportive friend Halle.  But if you do, and just haven't told me, then you know I am a Mom.  I have three kids, I'm married, and I have two dogs.  I love my family so much sometimes it makes my heart pang at how lucky I am.  Yes, I'll admit it, I even love my crazy dog Astro.  I don't want to sit at the end of my life wishing I'd spent less time in front of the television and more time with them.  What an awful regret that would be.  

When we go, all the things we have we leave behind.  You can't take it with you and it means nothing to you at that point.  What you leave with is what you leave behind.  Memories.  Laughter.  Hugs.  Love.  Reading a book.  Playing a game.  Snuggles.  Conversations.  Time.  Time we spent together enjoying each other.  Time we spent talking with our kids about their day, their concerns, their thoughts.  They will remember how we made them feel.  Something my Mom always said, "everything in moderation".  The reality is that we will watch television.  And, we will watch our stand-by shows together as a family and that's ok.  But, we WILL work harder at finding new activities to do together that don't require a screen.  When I am on my death bed, though we love the show Big Bang Theory they will not be thinking of one of the episodes.  They will hopefully be thinking of how much they will miss all the time we spent together.  Of course...I am kind of a nut.  I might just have to make my last word on this earth "Bazinga".  

Happy Birthday to an amazing woman...my Mom.

Well, it's now officially February.  This year is already flying by.  I remember someone telling me when I was a teenager that the older we get the faster time flies.  As a teenage know-it-all, I thought that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard.  It's the same amount of time, how can it go by faster.  Aaaahhhh, I hate egg on my face.  Good thing I am getting older, memory is slipping, and I don't remember the wise person who said that so I can't put my size 11 foot in my mouth and apologize.

February is a great month though right?  For most it's an exciting month because it's the love month.  That wonderful tradition of showering the one you love with gifts, flowers, or cards.  My mom's a florist people, SEND FLOWERS!  I love Valentines Day also.  I didn't always like it though, like when I didn't have a special someone to share it with and had to be my Mom's delivery person delivering all the beautiful flowers to others.  Yeah, didn't care for that much.  But, it still ended up ok.  I would come home from a long delivery day to the biggest flower arrangement you have ever seen, filled with all my favorite flowers.  From my Mom.

I am always reminded of this great holiday because there is another great holiday that follows it just two days later, the day the most beautiful woman in the world was born.  My Mom.  February is her month.  I know that there are a lot of really great moms out there and I mean no offense to anyone but...I have to tell you that I really think I hit the jackpot and got the best one of all.  Yes, I'm sure you'll disagree with me because you have a great mom too, and that's ok.  That just means there are a lot of awesome moms out there doing what they do and loving without end.  But if you don't mind, I'd like to share with you just a taste of what it has been like having my mom, what I love about her, and why I want to celebrate her this month.

When my brother and I were young Mom was always that soft, comforting touch.  She worked tirelessly for us.  She did things that in large part are unheard of today.  Everything was made from scratch.  Though I didn't appreciate it at the time, we never had a school lunch.  I can probably count on one hand the amount of times Rick and I would convince her to let us buy lunch at school.  She would get up early and hand make our lunch with all that she thought was good for us, but always provided a little treat in there as well.  Probably a homemade cookie or the like.  She'd also include little notes to us in our lunch, she'd make up a poem, say something funny to make us laugh, or just a simple "I love you".  She handmade all our clothes.  School shopping for us was a trip to what Rick fondly referred to as the "terial store".  I was in 7th grade before I got my first pair of store bought jeans!  She made everything she could.

My favorite, and most memorable, Christmas was the year I got a doll house.  It wasn't the doll house as much that made it so amazing for me.  It was what she filled it with that blew me away.  She handmade every  single piece of furniture to fill that doll house up completely.  Couches, beds, chairs, tables, even linens for the beds, etc.  She would work on them after Rick and I would go to bed at night.  Each was made out of foam, fabric, and whatever else she could find to really deck it out.  I cannot imagine, now, how much time she put in to it all.  She would also make me and my dolly, Baby Jane, matching dresses.

She taught us how to plant a garden, tend that garden, and relish in the fruit it produced.  Again, at the time I didn't appreciate that either.  My least favorite job as a kid was "struting beans".  We had a pretty HUGE garden so it was not a quick job.  Oh, but to have some of those beans today on my table would be divine.  She taught us to respect and appreciate nature.  She still does today.  She can find the beauty in the most unassuming piece of nature, remind you that it was all created by God, and how amazingly lucky we are that he gave us all that to appreciate and enjoy.

She never yelled.  She didn't have to.  Truthfully I don't know that she even knows how to.  All she had to do was look at us, that look on her face of sheer disappointment, like we'd just damaged her heart.  We pretty much snapped back into place with that look.  Ok, there was the "rare" occasion that we tested her resolve.  She still didn't yell, just very calmly told us, "Rick and Sandy that's it.  If you don't behave I'm going to have to tell your dad."  Yep, it was all business then.  We'd pushed her to her breaking point and you really didn't want to go past that!

Supportive.  I can't think of a better word to describe her from the deepest point of her.  She let us carve our own paths.  She let us make mistakes.  No, she didn't always like it and she sure wasn't shy about sharing her thoughts on it.  But in the end, she let us choose.  And here's the most amazing thing, even when she didn't agree with our choices she let her opinions go and just supported us.  Never once, I mean not even once, have I ever gone a day in this life without knowing she had my back.  Still to this day, she is my strongest cheerleader with the loudest voice.  For those of you who know my Mom you know how funny that statement is.  She does not have a loud voice, go back to the fact that she doesn't know how to yell.

As Rick and I have grown, gotten married, and started our own families her love and support has grown with us.  Our kids are truly in love with their Grandma.  There was a time when my Mom was home taking care of all six of our kids, not one over the age of 5 so that we could go out and work.  She didn't want us to have to send our kids to daycare.  The things she would do for those kids.  There really is no childcare provider out there that does what she would do with those kids.  Now that she lives far away from us, I always tell people when my Mom comes to visit these grandbabies of hers, she leaves a trail of tears behind her that stretch from here in Houston, Texas all the way to Billings, Montana where she lives.

Smart.  Yep, she is a smart little whipper snapper.  Salutadictorian in High School.  Creative.  Man, she has more creativity in her little pinky finger than most have in their entire body.  A flower is beautiful all on it's own.  But, when she arranges them she takes their beauty to a whole new level.  Even God would be impressed at how she can improve on his creation of them.

I don't know hardly a soul who can say a bad word about her.  That is so rare when you think about it.  She'll do anything for anyone if she can.  She's always thinking of others before herself, even in her darkest hours.  As a kid I saw this and always knew this.  As an adult, and a mom myself now, I appreciate that quality in her so much and truly admire her.

I think she was even Prom Queen.  I have a picture of her somewhere sitting on this fancy chair wearing a cotton candy pink, full length prom dress, hair all up in those 60's curls, a beautiful crowns on her head, and bright shiney eyes so full of life and promise.  She was soooo beautiful!  I use to love looking at that picture when I was a kid hoping that someday I could be as pretty as her.  I wanted to be just like her.  Turns out I'm more like her sister Jeanie.  But hey, it's all in the family right?  When I think back to that picture now I think of all that she has had to go through in her life.  She's had to endure so much.  Unbelievable hurt and pain.  Watching her home burn to the ground.  My Grandpa loosing his arm, she has often said that was the most traumatic moment in her life.  Then loosing him, her hero.  The pain of loosing her Mom and then two brothers.  Hurt and pain that is far too personal to even put down in words for all the world to hear.

She's getting older now.  When I look at her and see those lines starting to form on her still so soft, sweet face I see badges of honor not lines.  Each one is a badge of honor and should be worn as such.  Through it all she has not lost those bright shiney eyes full of life and promise.  I see them every time she hugs one of her now 7 grandbabies.  I see that light in her every time she walks in to church ready to soak up all that God has to give her.  I see it every time she is in her element creating beauty with God's nature, flowers.  I see it even in that sheepish smile she gets when someone gives her any credit and she hates the attention.  And most of all, I see it in her voice when she tells Rick and I how proud she is of us and who we've become.

She is the most amazing woman I know.  Full of strength, more than she gives herself credit for.  Full of love, for her kids, grandkids, and anyone she calls a friend.  Full of faith, willing to scar her knees in prayer for anyone, and I mean anyone, who needs it.  She's not perfect, but to me I think she's pretty close to it.  They say there are angels among us here on earth.  I thing she's one of God's greatest angels and I am sooooo lucky he picked her to be my Mom.  I love you Mommy all the way to God and back.  Thank you for all you do, all you are, and all you've taught me.  Thank you for being the bestest Grandma for my kids.

I read something yesterday, "How does God show you how much he loves you through others?"  I think he must really love me because he gave me you.  My Mom, my cheerleader, my confidant, and my best friend.  I wish you the most amazing birthday month ever this year Mom!  Happy Birthday!