I'm Just a Ghost in this House

Well, it's 9:30 am and the house is quiet. No pattering of feet ... no Noggin or Nick Jr. blaring simultaneously from at least two TV's in the house. No slamming of the fridge or freezer door every few minutes. Wow.

This is weird.

Today is the first official day when all three of my children are at school. Ben and Brad went back in late August - but Mary just started back to preschool today. She dressed & fluffed in record time and then waited at the garage door with her backpack secured until Steve came down to take her. She kept looking up at me saying, "Today I go to school? Ohhh ... today I go to school!"

There is such a fine line between cheering for your children's milestones and curling up in a fetal position out of sadness that the milestones have arrived. It's like you feel both elated and deflated in one emotion. And the cycle continues until you reach the day that they fly out of the nest altogether and make their way into the world. Ahhh ... one of the many paradoxes of parenting.

So, today I am feeling both elated and deflated ... and I know that it's perfectly normal that I feel this way. The quiet is nice on one hand ... but on the other ...

Well, I guess when you come to these moments as parents, you have a choice to make. You can sit in the silence and feel sad ... or you can get up and make some noise of your own. My children are healthy, happy, and hopefully enjoying their mornings very much. So, while doing laundry, making beds, and packing up for our soon-to-begin house remodel, I think I will turn on at least two TV's ... blaring the Food Network ... and see what's in the fridge ... and freezer ... several times in a row.

Hey, we're all somebody's kid ... might as well take my turn before Mary gets out at 11:30!

Have your own great morning, friends.

my sen10r

Well, I've known this day was coming. For so many years, it has seemed so far away ... and yet ... what was far away is now the present and really can't believe it is true. My little Benny is now my 17 year-old Ben, and he is a ... senior.

Does Maylox come in 50-gallon drums?

Are you stinking kidding me? It's here? Why?
Wow, I guess you aren't ... and it is ... and because it's time.

I woke up at 4am to the sound of Mary in the bathroom wrestling to get her panties down for her middle-o'-the-night pit stop. She wanted some milk to drink and so I trudged down to the fridge to fill her sippy cup, because quite honestly, what is a pit stop without snacks? After the re-tuckage and re-kissage, I settled back in my own bedroom only to find that the Sandman had left the building. I tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling for a while. There was so much rolling through my mind and replaying - as if the back of my head were a drive-in movie screen. I thought about what today was going to represent for me - the milestones that were being piled up - and how far down the road I've traveled...

Benny and I were strapped in an old beige station wagon. Rick had gotten it at the car sale with his father and it filled a nice gap for us as a young couple ... however, it was one ugly ride. I can't even believe how horribly and violently bland that station wagon was. Anyway, I digress ...
We were strapped in and headed to First Presbyterian for Ben's first day of 2 year-old preschool. As we winded down the old farmhouse driveway and headed for the highway, Ben slid his little hand across the seat and took mine. I looked down into his huge blue eyes and in a very small, nervous voice he said, "Mommy, pray. Pray big." So I prayed big. Ben's biggest fear was that he was not completely potty trained and the requirement for preschool back then was no pull ups. He had to be in "big boy pants" ... and although he loved the cottony softness they afforded ... he did not completely trust his ability to keep them dry all morning. So, my little man was fretting and I was praying big and down the road we went.

This morning around 8am, my bedroom door opened and in walked my fully-grown and quite independent 17 year-old Ben. The years have turned him into everything I ever wanted for his life. Now mind you, he knows the areas he needs to work on ... and I could make a list ... but in all the things that really matter ... that really move my heart ...

Ben is.

We've walked some awesome roads together ... and we've weathered some pretty horrific storms together ... and as the years have passed, he's grown and stretched ... and thankfully gotten potty trained, too. :)
As he walked over to my bedside to tell me goodbye for the first day of his senior year, he leaned over to give me a smooch on the cheek. As he leaned back up, I said, "Hey, give me that face again." With a bit of an eye roll and a chuckle, he leaned over and I put my hands on each side of his face. I stared at him, for just that moment, and the face of the little Benny in the car on the way to his first day of 2 year-old preschool was blurred by whiskers, braces, and ohhhh, that infamous long hair. Ben had no idea the volume of thoughts that were rushing through my noggin as I stared at him. It was one of those times when I felt Rick's absence. One of those milestone days that I just hoped the Lord allowed Rick a peek at life down here - to see the milestone with me, if only for a second. I don't get those pangs often ... but I've expected them all along. It didn't make me sad as much as I just hoped he'd get a peek, you know? It was a big day.
As Ben smiled and stood back up, I got my glimpse. I knew if I held that face long enough, I'd see Benny in there somewhere ... and I did ... in the sparkle of his huge blue eyes.

He didn't need me so much this morning. He's growing up, up, and away ... as well he should be at this point in the game. I didn't need to strap him in a car seat or drive him to school. He didn't need my calm reassurance like he did so many years ago. I said, "Well, it's your senior year, son. Class of 2010 ... it's here! Are you nervous?" Ben looked back in the doorway and said, "Nah, I'm good. I'll call you when I get out, okay?"

And off he went.

As he started up his SUV and headed down they driveway with his music blaring and his energy stoked ... I was in my bed, and in my heart ...

I was praying big.

That, dear friends, will never change.

A Mother's Improv

I don't know how Sundays are for all of you people ... but for us ... they can be a downright free-for-all. Rarely does Sunday run like a well-oiled machine and it seems that no matter how much pre-prep I do ... there's always the frantic countdown to the car ride. We are part of a new church plant here in Asheboro and because we are occupying the chapel of an existing church, our weekly services are going to be in the evenings instead of the mornings. You would think this would be a clear advantage in my plight for greasy Sunday gearing ... but so far it's a no go. Yesterday was no exception.
I began with plenty of time to spare. I had to iron 3 outfits, pack Brad's overnight frog-backpack for an after church spend the night at Grandma's, get Brad and Mary dressed, get myself dressed, and yell at Ben to get dressed (multiple times) ... but even still, I was running ahead of schedule and feeling rather hopeful that this was to be the Sunday that came off without a hitch.

What was I thinking?

The finish line was in sight. Brad was dressed and packed for Grandma's, Ben was drying his hair, Mary was pressed and dressed in her perfectly matched hot pink and white leggings, skirt, and bleached white shirt with the pretty crocheted neckline. She even had hot pink and white pony-tail holders in her hair and she was the picture of 3 year-old cuteness. All that remained was for Mommy to get on her makeup and clothes and we were outta there.

I had just done the "lean in" to apply my mascara in the mirror - mouth open in that funny way we women open it when we're putting on eye makeup - and all the sudden ... from the bedroom ... I hear ... Mary ... yelling ...

"Ohhhhh nooooo!!!!"

I didn't even want to look. I know what those two words mean ... and for a mother, it's never good news. I walked out of the bathroom to discover that Mary had wandered back into her bedroom and found her half-melted cherry popcicle and when she tipped it up to bite it ... cherry ... red, red cherry juice poured out of the wrapper and found a trail all the way down the very front of her bleached white shirt with the pretty crocheted neckline. I felt a sob well up in my throat as my hopes to get to church on time dashed against the rocks of reality. I wondered if somewhere in a cold, dark grave that Murphy dude who wrote all the laws was chuckling at me. Seriously? Cherry red on a bleached white shirt?

Could a bigger fish swallow me, please?

I ran in the bathroom, grabbed a wet washcloth and started to wipe ... I mean, moms are preprogrammed in the womb to grab a wet washcloth and start wiping - no matter what the emergency. I'm not sure what I expected to happen ... maybe a Sunday miracle ... but I am pretty sure I am smart enough to know that a wet washcloth + red, red cherry popcicle = smear. However, my instincts gave me no choice. I grabbed, I wiped ... ahhhhh ... I discovered. Wet washcloth + red, red cherry popcicle = pink. Then a brilliant, yet temporarily insane thought exploded in my head. I looked at the clock, pondered it for all of 2.7 seconds, and said, "Mary, hand Mommy your popcicle."

Yes, I did it.

I took my fingers and began splashing red, red cherry popcicle all over Mary's bleached white shirt with the pretty crocheted neckline. Front, back, sleeves ... all of it. Mary was staring at me like I had two heads and a unicorn horn growing out of my forehead ... and I said, "Mary, Mommy is doing something grown-ups call improvising. It's when you take what you've got and you work with it. So, Mommy is working with it. Mommy is not saying that it is okay to put popcicle juice all over your clothes ... but we're out of time and Mommy does not have time to change your whole outfit. So, it will dry and you will smell glorious." Mary said, "Wow Mommy, this if fun!"

By the time my speech concluded, I had splashed and wiped the whole masterpiece down and Mary stood before me in the cutest pink tie-dyed shirt you've ever seen. She matched perfectly and went back to putting on my mascara. I am woman ...

Hear me roar.

I think I feel a devotion coming on ...

Just Wanna Know He's Keeping Count

"But even the hairs of your head are all numbered."
Matthew 10:30 ESV


Well it comes down to this ...
I'm molting.

It started about 8 weeks ago and for most of the 8, I stayed in denial. I would randomly mention how much I was shedding, as if my words became some sort of life-preserver I'd throw out into the void hoping that some listener might say, "Oh, I'm losing a ton of hair right now, too.", and it would serve to reassure me that what was happening in my bathroom each morning was normal. Every time I'd toss that ring of words out ... inevitably someone would say what I wanted to hear. And the weeks passed.

It wasn't until I admitted there was enough DNA on the tile floor to provide Dr.Frankenstein the raw material for a dozen incarnations that I broke down and contacted my dermatologist. After hearing me freak out in my "admitting is the first step" sort of mode, this was his response:

"You'll survive, but this scares everyone I know. You almost certainly have telogen effluvium, which is a substantial and fast hair loss that occurs 3-6 months after some major health issue/major stresser etc. It also happens "for no reason" at all sometimes, but even then, it is usually in a young woman (very young in your case!). The good news is that it does reverse course usually. However, you should have blood work just to make darn sure nothing else is going on (e.g. Thyroid, CBC etc.) What I would do no matter what is use Rogaine 5% foam for Men (the "Men" thing is just marketing so ignore it!!) twice a day. The foam form is MUCH easier to use (but even it is a pain to some extent). You will get your hair back eventually once the follicles reset, but we do need the blood work just to be sure we don't miss anything."

Listen people ... I wouldn't advice doing a google image on this condition. My niece gave the same warning to me - to which I promptly went over to google and did an image search on it. So, I'm guessing about right now you are ignoring me and going over to google it for yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you. Yeh, well, I figured if you were gonna do it anyway, I'd save you the trouble of remembering how to spell it.

Let me just tell you ... anyone who knows me knows that my big hair is right up there with world peace and hot Krispy Kremes. I mean ... big hair is ... well ... it's just about the best thing ever. I am known for my big hair. So in a sense, I am having an identity crisis. Mine does not look anywhere near the horrors on google ... but you have to keep in mind that if you have one ounce of my mother's blood in you ... your hair is thick as molasses on a January morning. So, truthfully, I could lose a ton and still have a ton. However, I can certainly tell that it is half as thick as it normally is and that, cyberfriends, is enough to make me really scared. Every morning I hope and pray that it won't happen again ... but so far ... it's still happening. Not an hour ago, I swept Cousin It up off my bathroom floor.

I think the pain and steroid injections for my neck and back, coupled with the 2009 trauma of my dear, dear friend Ginger has, quite honestly, caused this follicle frenzy. So, today, as I wait for my scalp to reboot itself ... I find great comfort in this Matthew passage that reminds me that even though I am losing hundreds of strands a day ...

"I don't need the strength of Samson or a chariot in the end...
Just Want to know that You still know how many hairs are on my head.
Oh, Great God, be small enough to hear me now."
~ Nichole Nordeman

I know He knows ...

Geocaching, Prayerstorming, and Belly Rubs

Well, all's quiet on the Eastern Front.

My two little ones are asleep in their nice cozy beds. Ben is hanging out with cousins and most likely "geocaching" somewhere in our fair city. He's determined to find a treasure yet ... or at least something cool in one of those capsules.

Steve is in Brussels and as of his last email to me which was about 30 minutes ago, he was finishing up a burger and heading for bed. He'll sleep a few hours and then hit the American cockpit to fly home again ...
home again ...
jiggity
jig.

So who does that leave?

It leaves ...

MOI

And MOI is a happy camper.

Ahhhhh ... it's been a peaceful evening. I have been in bed since 8:30 and I've had almost two and a half hours of uninterrupted time with the Lord to work on an upcoming ladies retreat I am doing at North Myrtle Beach in October. I don't know when I've had two and a half hours of uninterrupted time with the Lord lately. It's been Heavenlish.

I came up with a new word tonight. At least, I think I made it up. If you've heard it ... don't tell me. I'm feeling pretty amazing right now.

When I emailed Steve back to tell him what I was doing, the word, "prayerstorming" came to me. I would have said "brainstorming" ... but it wasn't appropriate. That you do with your mind. What I have been trying to do tonight is with my heart. It has been brimming over for days and days now with the oodles of spiritual thoughts and questions I've gathered up over the past couple of weeks ... so the only word that came to mind when trying to explain to Steve was ... "prayerstorming". I think I love this word. Think I could sell it to Zondervan or something? Do they buy words? It's such a good one. Eeeek. :)

So this prayerstorming of mine was flowing like a sweet September river and all the sudden, I felt a fluffly lump of sweetness jump up on me. It's our Maltipoo named Jesso and I love her so much I could squeeze the curl right out of her fur. So, since she stopped by my Temperpedic to give me some kisses and to bum a belly rub off of me ... it only seemed right to capture the moment and share her cuteness with the world. Dawn and Emily will be so proud. So ... ladies and gentlemen ... I give you the juiciest little pup this side of the Mississip' ... and yes ... that is one chocolate eye you see. I'm tellin' you ... she's juicy.

JESSO




So, it's looking like tonight has been win/win for everyone.

Little ones are nestled ...
Ben's off treasure hunting ...
Steve is full of beef and snoring by now ...
I'm making up awesome new words and spending time with my Maker ...
And Jesso's gettin' her a belly rub.

Good times ... good times.

Mabes, Mountains, and Mayhem

Ok, second day of photo blogging. I can tell this is going to change my life. :)

My oldest sister's name is Sharon. However, since 1986 I have called her Mabes. It's a nickname that came from a silly conversation we had and for whatever reason, it stuck. For over 20 years now ... it has stuck. My children even call her Aunt Mabes. It's a hoot.
She and her family left this morning to take my parents for a week in the NC mountains. To say that was a car full of people who needed an little R&R is the understatement of the century. I called to talk to them a little while ago and Mabes said that she'd have to call me back because they were walking into the emergency room with my mother. Apparently, Mama got to the bottom of the stairs of the cabin they rented and her toe caught and she fell down and gashed her head above her eye and also whacked her ear. They are going to sew her up and do a scan of her head just to make sure she is alright. I can't say how upsetting it is to find this out. I mean, I know God knows just how much they all need a break from the chaos of daily life around here ... so I just can't quite grasp why this had to happen. It's so hard to see God in some of the things that interrupt our daily lives. I know He has a reason for everything ... so I will choose to stand on that. However, my heart just aches to think that the first night of their mountain vacation has started off in such an awful way. Even still ...

There is no power above or beside Him, we know ... God is in control.

Mama, I hope you feel better tomorrow and that your week will be blessed with healing and laughter ... I am so sorry you are hurting tonight.

Here is a picture of me with Mabes and me with Mama. My mama sure looks pretty for 76 years old, doesn't she??? She was actually 74 when this was made, but she still looks just like this!

Photo blogging 101

I'm just back from the Proverb31 SheSpeaks weekend and there was so much I crammed in my head about blogging ... I want to come home and do a complete brain dump. I want to learn more about how to go about this ... and I'm going to attempt to do one of the things I learned about, which was how to insert photos. All of my notes are upstairs and I am downstairs and feeling way too full with my mother's birthday cake from tonight to walk up and get them. So, I'm going to try and do this from memory. I hope it works. My new blogging friends will be so proud of me if this works from what I just retained from the class. Ok ... here goes nothing!



This is a picture of my sweet, sweet Mary. She's happiest when she's having her picture made. :) Notice how I have her placed in the intersection of the "thirds"?? How do you like that????

Oh my GOSH!!! I did it! Dawn is going to be so proud ... as well as all the other blogging gurus. I can't wait to tell them.

Ahhh ... I have listened ... I have learned ... I have conquered. Yesssssssssssssss