..it's going to be a good day...

That moment when you catch yourself smiling, for no real reason. When everything around you suddenly takes on a new meaning, looking at something rather simple and getting a warm feeling. You know the feeling, you've felt it before, but it has been so long it is like staring at a strangers face and instantly knowing them. You want to suppress such feelings because in the past they have been fleeting, artificial or stilted.

Like completing 1000 piece puzzle, you know it is more about the feeling of accomplishment and challenge than the picture that is revealed at the end. The glory is in the process. With the pop of warm sun kissed spring days, everything is in bloom. The dark winter days have faded away disclosing the beauty that was forgotten. The tree's blossoms are starting to show their vibrant color, and it all seems to make sense...like an old forgotten friend.

This time of year used to be my third favorite...this year it is taking top billing. There is no better feeling than looking out the window and seeing the beauty that the season brings. The blooms that decide to open a little more with every minute of the day, cleanse the soul and put into perspective things that you never knew they could. And then you get a phone call that darkens your view with terror, grief and the notion of what you might not have said.

So, there I was, packing suitcases. Never mind that it was just a few days before Easter. Never mind that I was so completely turned around I could hardly think straight. Never mind that I was packing a variety of clothes from "waiting room comfortable" to "funeral". I stood there looking at what was in the suitcase and I couldn't get my head around what might happen. I couldn't understand the notion of someone you love possibly dying, even though I had been in this exact space in the not so distant past. No matter the kind of love you have for someone, when you are smacked in the face of the notion of mortality, the slightest interaction starts to take on an elevated emotion. Did I remember my last conversation with my mom? Did I reaffirm the authenticity of how much I loved her? Could I contemplate the concept of losing her? The answers were: yes, yes and NO. So, scared and afraid, possibly naïve, I decided that this wasn't the end. She would die someday, we all will, but that day wasn't going to be today. She is a tough broad and she is wise beyond her years, this was not the end of her story, not even by a long shot.

Driving seven hours alone gives a lot of time for the mind to wander, and seeing that it is a rarity it was slightly exhilarating. I could actually think, blare the music of my choice, stop only to pee and not have to quell any disputes besides the ones that were scurrying around in my head. I thought about the things I wanted to say to her. I thought about the stories I wanted to always remember about her. I thought about the last conversation that we had, and how she said a few things that were poignant and prophetic. I thought about how lucky I have been to have the parents that I have, and what good role models they have been on parenting. I worried about my dad, knowing that he not only hates hospitals, but has never had to see my mom in such a vulnerable state, ever. I wondered how 50+ years of marriage can bring two souls’ together, fusing two lives in such a way that without one to inhale can the other ever exhale? My father was very scared, but tried desperately to disguise it...his heart was missing a piece and he had no way to fix it.

Fear and sorrow can not only open one's eyes, but also open one's heart to the things that they might have been too stubborn or foolish to admit. It can bring people together just out of the sake of loving someone collectively. It can alter the window that your mind's eye has been peering out of, and then suddenly things all make sense. Thankfully, my mother is a fighter, and she is currently recovering from a very serious heart surgery. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but she is one of the strongest women that I know, and I only hope to appear to emulate her, as that is possibly the closest I could get. I am grateful daily for the things that she has taught me and the advice that she has given me, not only as a mother but also as a woman.

My takeaway from all of the above is to remember to be grateful not only for what I have, but for the possibility of having more than my heart could desire because at the end of the day, life is too short. You get this brief blip of time in the world, what you do with it is up to you, and wasting it shouldn't be a viable option. Live life to its fullest, give yourself permission to be crazy happy and wake up every day knowing it's going to be a good day...

...taxes and tying shoes...

Fear, taxes and five year olds…that is what is on my mind right now. In the hustle and bustle of this house, the first two months of a new year really silently stress me out. Back to back birthday months mean I have to get creative with my budget, hide presents in my closet and hope I don’t forget where anything was hidden. Taxes? Well I guess they are unavoidable, but for a month mental fear incontinence sets in until they are finished. Going to jail for tax evasion just isn’t something I can pencil into my life, ever.

In one week I will have a five year old. Crazy. Like no, really mind-blowing crazy. It doesn’t seem possible that this little fellow is going to be five. However, it is apparent that he is not a baby anymore, and day by day he stretches his independent legs and let’s go of something that he clearly no longer needs. He is developing into this funny, creative, wise little person, and I am so excited to see where life takes him. One the backside of that, the “Birthday Week” has started and he told me before this morning’s first light where he would like to have dinner tonight…clearly, he’s got a plan for the week. Cut to me, mentally accounting for the time I need this week to get everything done: school treats, birthday cake and presents that I should actually be wrapping at this moment. But first we have to go to the tax lady…

I have had to learn how to do countless things since becoming a single mother. There are so many things that I “just didn’t have to worry about” when I had a husband. Taxes was one of them. I learned about how to budget money, paying bills, using power tools, fixing odds and ends and I’m no longer terrified when the talking tornado sirens are tested…but taxes? I’m mentally peeing again. I secretly wish that I had some sort of personal finance person to tell me when/what/where I need to release myself of this fear. I guess I worry because I don’t want to go to jail…it would be difficult to make cupcakes from inside the clink. But, if I can use a drill, I can figure this out, right? Turns out taxes isn’t the four letter word that it emanates in my head. The tax lady was fair, patient and BEYOND helpful, thankfully I can check this off of my ever-present worry list and move on to world peace.

And, that little boy who is turning five very soon, has surpassed his siblings in a milestone that every parent dreads…he has learned to tie his shoes. When Oscar pointed out some “BOSS” clearance shoes to Atticus the other day, my face displayed a less than thrilled look. I thought to myself, great, there’s two hours a day that I won’t get back tying shoes. The next day, I sat down with Atticus, and it was seemingly effortless. No freak outs. Not one ounce of frustration. He listened, watched and did it…stunned. Now, if I could get him to wipe his behind and not put it in the trashcan, I will be throwing a party. In the meantime, I get to see Nora shooting cutting looks because of her surpassed milestone. Exhausted from seeing this I finally announced today, “You all can tie your shoes, the next thing is getting to vote…you’ll all do that at the same age! Move on!!!”

In the process of all of the above, I need to remind myself that I will figure this stuff out…the kids are fed and we have a roof over our head…so far so good. While there is no one I can pass the less-than-exhilarating-adulting onto, it is time to take a deep breath, make some cupcakes and celebrate the last of my precious offspring forging into the milestone of a half decade…blissfully remembering I never have to tie another shoe but my own!

...just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

It's October...and the litany of all things fall/Halloween commence. My kids love this time of year as much as I do, even Oscar today said, "Where are the fall books? I need to read some, I'm just in the mood." There will be cookies to make and pumpkins to carve and costumes to try to put together. I am grateful that my kids are still "into" these things, as I know they won't be forever. The October 1st tradition is to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. As it was starting, and we were all together, I looked at every one of my kids and I touched their arm. It seemed odd, but it was like I was caught up in the moment. We have been watching this movie for as long as I can remember, for some of my kid’s whole lives. We laugh and we recant our favorite parts, it's like a secret tradition that we have always somehow kept.

So many things are happening at once it seems like a whirlwind. Some things are great while others are challenges. Nora learning to ride her bike finally seems like a rite of passage. And as promised, she got to ride to Casey's General Store for doughnuts this morning. Instead of following her in my car like I did the first time she rode her bike to school, I went along for the bike ride. She is FAST! I had a hard time keeping up with her. As I watched her this morning, I envied her lack of fear. I watched her, albeit cautiously, peddling downhill, seemingly flying and thought- ah, to be seven again. I'm proud of her for facing her fears, just wish she had a slight fear of speed at this point.

The sojourn of being a single parent at times is more than difficult. No matter how others offer to help, it is just not the same. Perhaps it is my control freak tendencies, maybe it is habit, or maybe I'm the only one who really knows these kids behind closed doors. Like the saying goes, they're good for company. Sometimes it is what goes on when there aren't any witnesses that are really truer than the sometimes-fiction they portray for others. The pangs of seeing a kid who really needs their father, a sojourn I never signed up for, but we'll get through it. Like I said, people have offered to try to step in and be that person, for which I am grateful, but it is just not the same. They will know when they are ready to speak up about it, until then I wait…and of course worry.

I am going to be more honest right now than I probably ever have been. After Jason died, there was a time when I just hated him. I hated him for leaving me a single parent. I hated him for never showing me how to do some things. I hated him for not being able to see how our kids have grown. I hated him, hated him, because somehow it took the sting out of missing him. If I could be angry at him, I wouldn't miss him. The fact of the matter is, he was my best friend and I loved him. He was a good father and a good person. Sometimes I just miss talking to him, asking him for advice or some sort of reassurance that I am doing the right thing, or saying the right thing. I'm outnumbered by people in this house who don't have the same parts as me...and sometimes that terrifies me. I miss my friend, the other half of my children, who gets them as much as I do. I no longer hate, but I hope that I am doing the right thing by him.

The last four years have seemed like a decade. My mind goes back to all the things I didn't appreciate at the time, the moments I didn't pay enough attention to or the things I didn't coin in the moment as special. Sometimes they can still knock the wind out of me. While these kids at times drive me to drink, terrify me and give me endless laundry and stories, I know that they are some of the strongest human beings I know. I marvel at how sometimes things just come together... In the middle of chaos driving down the street, Atti cheering out the window to Nora while she rides her bike,"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Mean while the boys show their less than stifled embarrassment to merely be seen with us...I see how far we have come, but sometimes I miss the one who isn't there to laugh about it with me.

...grunt-like-look...

Well, it's here...can you hear that? It's almost the end of the school year and I actually think I'm ready for it. This week has been a full cocktail of feelings...anxiety mixed and over ice with fear as well as excitement in a LARGE glass of gratification. It's a scary thing to put yourself out there, not knowing if you will sink or swim. It's hard to decide if you are brave enough to jump into the deep end and leave your worries behind, if for only one moment. It's a slippery slope to want something to be a success while at the same time knowing the fact you've accomplished anything, is well, enough. And then there is potty training a 3 year old...

I should know what the hell I'm doing by now...right? I mean I do have three other children who are entirely capable and are no longer wearing plastic pants...but I'm stumped. This charming, very verbal, completely coordinated 3 year old just will not get it. I've pulled out all of the old tricks: candy, sticker charts, superhero undies, promising animals we can't actually house, promising toys we can't afford. Everything short of a bourbon and ginger ale, and let's face it that's my reward, I have promised this kid and he won't use the toilet. Oh, don't get me wrong, he's good at making it 'appear' like he is getting the hang of things, taking initiative and understanding what he should do. It's the doing it that is a problem...cut to us playing Uno on Saturday, and me looking up, only to see him standing in the window, that unmistakable 'grunt-like-look' on his face...and then looking at me and saying, "...ah mommy, I pooped..." At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to home-school him.

The struggles of a child who can't decide if she likes sports or just enjoys entertaining an audience is something else I will be looking forward to this summer. I don't care if any of my kids are sport minded. I certainly don't care if not a one of them becomes a sports phenomenon. All I want them to do is feel comfortable trying new things and if they like it great, if they don't well at least they tried. We can't be certain if Nora is a lefty or a righty. We can't be certain if she knows that the team will not have her name in the title. We can't be certain if she knows she has to run to home plate. We can't be certain if she understands that the people in the crowd aren't all there just for her... But in the next 6 weeks we'll learn and that's what this summer is all about.

The older my kids get, the older I get. Wow, that's profound enough to embroider on a pillow...what I'm saying is with every summer, my old lady nostalgia kicks in...Part of me remembers being 11 years old, riding my bike all over town and not really worrying about checking in until it was dinner time. Then, the old lady kicks in. The controlling parent. Suddenly on the inside, I'm "Beverly Goldberg" the mother who would give her life for her 'schmoopies', despite the fact that she might be smothering them. I know I need to trust the street smarts I have already instilled, but it's scary. It is scary to think what might happen, even though chances are they won't. That's the intricate inner workings of a mother's brain. I know I was given freedom to ride my bike, and I'm none-the-less normal. This summer, it's going to be a lesson in letting go a little and letting them be...The beauty of living in a small town? I'll know what they might have done wrong about 1.1 seconds after they do it. And besides, I've already survived the "puberty video", I figure I'm on the up swing.

It seems with every passing season, it becomes a time to start and try to change things up a little...the beginning of a new adventure. I have to keep reminding myself of how far we've come and only one visit to the ER. We set goals, hope to keep them, and if we don't kill each other by the end of the day, then we're winning. I remember how terrifying life once was for me...constantly thinking to myself, I'm never going to pull this off. I'm never going to be able to do this alone. Don't get me wrong, I don't have the secret to life figured out and my mother-guilt could be fodder for a medical book. But this week I did a lot of reflecting on all that has happened in the last couple of years. All those nights I frantically pondered when...when was any of this going to make sense? When was life going to get easy?

The answer is, never. Life isn't supposed to be easy...but if you are lucky, you can adapt and press on. It has taken me longer than I would like to admit to see it that way. If you are lucky you can see the good in any day, even if it is the moment your kids go to bed without a head wound. If you are lucky, you'll understand that you were put here for a reason or possibly many reasons. Lastly, you let go and let everyday be an example of how tomorrow could be better...If that doesn't work, and you're anything like the 3 year old living in my house, you stand in the window and poop...

Happy Mother's Day...

...I remember walking into a room just off of ours. It was empty, with exception of piles in this corner and that. A fresh coat of the most soothing green color on the walls. The only piece of furniture, a bright yellow chair sitting in the corner. I would wander into that room, sit in that big yellow chair and think. I would think about what still had to be done. I would think about what would go where. I would sit in that big yellow chair and think about the baby that would soon be living in this room. I would wonder what it would be like to be a mother...

I still remember how quiet it was sitting in that room...quiet is a foreign word around here. Of all the places in our old house, I think I miss that first baby room the most. I guess it was where I spent a lot of time, did most of my thinking, and a great deal of praying that I was actually doing things right...first time mother guilt. I could close my eyes right now and tell you how the sun fell into that room in the morning, or how in the spring the tree out front bloomed. All the times the Talls would be so tiny looking out their window in the winter waiting for the snow plows to go by. It seems like it was yesterday that I became a mother for the first time...

Mother's Day is upon us...I know because Atticus has been randomly saying to me, "...Happy-Birthday-Mother's-Day-Mom..." to me for the last week. Good to know he's caught on to bundling well wishes. My Mother's Day present (unknowingly) was given to me by my kids tonight. They gave me a trip down memory lane by watching...Lawrence Welk. It sounds odd, but when the Talls where little, we would watch it every Saturday night. Partly because it was funny to watch them, partly because it wore them out dancing and prancing all over the living room. They would dance and twirl, every once and a while Jason and I would get up to dance with them. We haven't watched it in years, actually I think tonight was Atticus' first time. They all performed some signature moves and one of the Talls finally accepted Nora's plea to be her dance partner. They were up for every song, twirling and dipping. Atticus was Oscar's slow dance partner, and I heard him ask while dancing, "...nice weather we're having?" That scant 45 minutes was probably one of the best Mother's Day gifts I have ever gotten.

 I was told the other night how fast time flies when you have kids. I've been told this many times, but when you are in the trenches of motherhood, it's hard to see the end of the road. As I was sitting there, I was mentally doing the math. Barring Atticus not be given an orange jump suit with the letters "DOC", I will be 57 years old by the time all of my children are out of my house. That's nearly 60!? That is, if I don't make this home so damned wonderful they even decide to leave...The notion made me shutter and simultaneously contemplate an intense chore chart.

 Little did I know what I was discussing in one part of the house, was invading Nora's dreams in another...but not the good kind. Being a mom is rough, all moms know that. Being a mom of children who have lost a parent is a different kind of rough. The fears that they have aren't like all the rest of the kids they know. Nora isn't the first one to express it, but her fear lies in what happens when I die. What will happen to her if I should die? Will she have to live all by herself? She doesn't want to be alone. As she is telling me this the next day, as it took her 12 hours to get the courage to talk about it, tears are streaming down her face. She actually looks like she is in pain even describing what she dreamt, how she felt, where her fear was. My heart broke. I tried to reassure her that she wouldn't be alone. I tried to tell her that if something happened to me, there would be someone here. I was careful with my words as I know all too well the phrase "take the place" is a line of crap...

This conversation was eye opening to say the least. I ditched the mental chore chart and started to think about what I get to do in the next 17 years. What I get to see raising these kids...knowing their potential...watching them grow into these cool people I see them becoming. I get to see them happy, get to console them when they are not, and get to hear them, as they have no internal volume. Silver Lining? I get to be their Mom, probably the best job I've ever had...

...lucky underpants...

It's not a foreign feeling. I've done it twice before. I thought it would leave me feeling different than it did. I sent my third child to preschool today. It left me feeling kind of conflicted...a mixture of excited and nostalgic. Not sure if it's because this one has been home with me the longest? Not sure if it's because I feel this one has been desperate for peer interaction? Not sure if it's because her littlest brother has been pretending to talk to her all morning on a fake cell phone? But, as Oscar stated rather solemnly at the breakfast table this morning "...Nora, these are the last few hours of freedom, you better enjoy them, there's no going back..."

She is overly verbal- wonder where she gets it? She's eager to be in a room full of kids, raise her hand, show what she knows, and learn new things. It's heartwarming to see so much excitement about what most take for granted. Last night I asked her what she thought school would be like, and she said she had only seen school on TV, would it be like that? I told her maybe. She very seriously looked at me and said "...you know, I haven't mastered much math yet...". I told her not to worry about it, I haven't mastered much math either, and I no longer go to school.

Nora and her Aunt Gail picked out an outfit for the first day (she's way more fashion forward than a mom). The description of said outfit was priceless, completely Aunt Gail...

  "...she has a dress, white ankle socks, tennis shoes, 3 hair accessories, and her lucky underpants..."

And when I found her this morning this morning she was whipping up the beauty, putting on her lucky underwear and told me she would meet me downstairs. She was giddy. She was bouncy. She was starting to drive her brothers insane. Atticus must have said 49 times "...I ride bus to scccoooll?" To which I repeatedly told him no one was taking a bus to school. Finally at the 49th time I said "YES, now go look out the front window and wait for it to get here!"

We, her sidekick of the last 2.5 years and I, drove her to school. We took the obligatory picture in front of a school sign. She ran in, and kept saying, "I'm so excited!" No tears like the two dozen or more times I've left her with people to even run errands. No look of 'YOU CAN'T LEAVE'. It was nice. I had this strange feeling of pride and excitement for her. As I mentioned before, she's stayed home with me the longest. By this age her brothers would have had a year of preschool and be starting kindergarten, their birthdays were more perfectly timed...and I feel lucky to have been able to be home with my only girl for so long. Never mind being outnumbered, it's SOLIDARITY SISTER!

Within 1.8 minutes of being in this preschool, regardless of the fact that this was HER first time here, she was telling another classmate where to hang their backpack. I thought, she's got this...only to look down at Atticus bawling his eyes out! Partly because he couldn't stay, and partly because Nora was. I've got to be honest, I never saw that coming. He spent the rest of the morning talking like she was here, wanting to know when she'd be home, and slightly milking his desperation for all it was worth. When the bus actually did come and drop Nora off, she got out, raised her hands in the air and yelled, "BEST DAY EVER!!!"

For me, it's another milestone that I've compassed single parenting. I was wondering if dread was going to flood through me today. I woke up early and started the coffee just in case I needed a bit of a meltdown myself. I'm not sappy about my kids going to school, but our circumstances are different than they were when my others went. I realized that we all have a hand in raising each other. My kids are all really great kids. They know their strengths, know others weaknesses, let's face it they are kids. BUT they all have a hand in how we, for the lack of a better term, all turn out. However, the one I was going to send out in the world, she's been my therapist, my touchstone to reality, my best girl friend. Hell, if she were old enough she'd be a drinking buddy. Watching her turn the corner on so many (lets face it, a lot of crafts to hang) really great new experiences...without her mom hanging around. I knew she was ready. I was just really, really relieved, delighted and strengthened to see that SHE knew she was ready...and now, onto the fundraisers!

...black and white...

I’ve always considered myself a ‘grey area’ person. Always someone who sees a situation, good or bad, and looks for the silver lining, as it has become a way of life for me. Someone who can always see both sides of a story, situation, or problem. Not in a condescending/self-righteous way, just as a means-to-survive-to-the-next-day sort of person. Some might call such an insight on life ‘Polly-Anna’ but thus far it has seemed to work for me…until it didn’t for a bit. Those who know me well, know the saga of my life. Nothing from a Monday-Night-Movie, but it’s been interesting/trying nonetheless. Little did I know what phrase set me into the stratosphere until I finally heard it? “…Abe’s urine sample had blood in it…” And, that was it.

We have always had our kids tested for kidney disease. It might seem sort of ‘doomsday’ but when one parent has it, error on the side of caution. Jason had it. It was a big part of his life, even though he rarely mentioned it to anyone but me. He was constantly remarking that because of it, I would never outlive him…it was a sort of honest but treacherous way to live. We started getting the kids urine samples at their yearly check-ups and that was that. Now, not to make excuses, but I’ve had a few things going in the last year…so it was very due that we have a check-up. All came through their awkward urine collections fine. Nora walked out of the bathroom at the medical group saying, “…now THAT was really fun!!” She, however, wasn’t the one collecting it. I figured we were erring again on the side of caution, all would be well…until it wasn’t.

 Jason used to say “…if they call you the same day as your test? Yeah, well you’re pretty much screwed. No news is good news…” Then I get a call from the Medical Group. I figured it was to remind me of something unimportant and almost dismissed it. I answer it, and find out that Abe’s test came back with some issues. My heart sank. Was I that much of a fool to think we could escape this issue? Did I actually think that we’d catch a break on this one? My heart was in denial…

They had found blood in the urine test. In my head, screwed up as it may be, I immediately went to Abe dying of kidney disease. All of the whoop la and talk that I’ve given others, not to mention myself, went out the window. I went straight to death before ever comprehending that it is ALL TREATABLE. My head reeled and heart sank as they were telling me the next procedure they were wanting to do. All the while I went directly to BLACK AND WHITE…never grey, as I had been for the last dozen years. My mind was saying “…this boy that you love is going to die…How are you going to deal with that?!”

 For about 6 hours I just did. I didn’t want to scare him. I didn’t want to tell our family, as I feared they too would think the worst (sorry I didn’t have more confidence in you, but I honestly didn’t have it in myself). I played it off as a ‘non-issue’ perhaps the fact that Abe hates drinking water or maybe his kidney has a ‘cold’ or something. But, the fact of the matter was…I was terrified, for about 6 hours. Then, I pulled myself up and simply said NO. I realize that is a stupid thing to do. Smiting God. Thinking that I had ANY CONTROL on the situation. I kept reminding myself of one thing…Abe.

The kid is amazing…don’t get me wrong, he can drive me up a tree. But, the kid has this crazy resilience that is unlike anyone I’ve known. He is this great kid, creative mind, basically he’s a one-of-a-kind human being. There would be NO black and white with this matter. He would not be stricken with this, at least not yet, as he had so much to give and so much more to learn about life first. As if my worries were literally taken off my shoulders two days later. His kidneys appeared fine under examination. He would need to come back in six months for another test. For now, while I’m trying not to be ‘black and white’ about the issue, I know we have bought ourselves time. I know that we cannot escape this VERY MAJOR issue that their dad had. I know that we will have to continually deal with it from year to year. And, it's treatable. However, now I know that to me, it doesn’t have to scream a death sentence…moreover, it’s a reason to celebrate the fact that we all are still living…

 

 

...the only thing we have to fear...

Doubt. Dread. Uneasiness. Concern. Fears. They are an inevitable consequence of being alive I suppose. There are ones you are willing to admit. There are ones you share with hundreds of others. There are those that you, if you are lucky, have succumbed. And then, there are those fears that never really go away...those anxieties that you would never want to openly mention, as it might make you look weak and feeble.

I found out earlier this month that I will get to have a hip replacement at the end of the summer. At this point, I've considered just laying in the street at times and paying anyone to do it. It's tiresome, depressing, and painful to not be able to keep up with daily life. I feel like a 75 year old trapped in a 38 year old body. My fear, looking weak, is no longer masked by me pretending to feel okay. I limp and hobble, and all sorts of other unattractive things to try to keep step with four kids. While I welcome this surgery, it means a summer of trying to really have a lot of fun with my kids, as I will be laid up for a while afterwards.

I know what feeling powerless is like. The closet door on my 'control issues' has been removed by it's hinges. Though there I sit, in the doorway, delusional enough to think that I can stay inside this doorway and life will always work out like I plan. I'm not going to lie, it's my 'pacifier'. At times I wonder if it's a blessing or a curse to know just how fast life can change, and there's not one thing you can do about it. On one hand, I feel like owning that notion will make me less apt to taking things for granted. On the other hand of that notion, I feel like I have to be 'readied' at any moment for the bottom to fall out. I over compensate when it comes to parenting. Here comes a big truth: I perpetually live in fear that I've only got one shot to get it right, that's a healthy mindset, right? And they only have me- heaven help them. I only hope one day, while they are siting around having a cocktail together and talking about how crazy their mother was, they'll at least remember that she was also perpetually outnumbered. I'm not worried about Nora, she has life pretty much figured out...the other day the Talls got into some trouble. I walked away from them and bumped into Nora, and she looked at me and said, "Your soothing spa treatment is ready, it's time for your day off..."

I worry about a summer going by and no one learns anything. I'm odd, I know. I feel like it's the perfect time to not only do something fun, but discover a hidden talent, pick up a new hobby, enjoy a more dangerous chore...Weed-wacking? Clearly something we are going to have to work up to. Lawn mowing? The Talls are all a contradiction when it comes to this. On one hand they tell me they know what they are doing, suddenly they can't do it, they don't know how. It was interesting, each of them at different times in different places said that exact same thing to me this morning. I looked at them and said, "...well, that's awesome! You won't be able to say that tomorrow..." A comeback I will never forget, thank you.

Facing another fear a couple of months ago...I asked for help. I entered a home improvement contest by submitting an essay. I have to admit, it was sort of therapeutic to put down in words why I needed help, I think because it felt anonymous. I never in a million years figured my collection of words would be picked as a finalist...I mean come on, I'm asking for help? Fast forward a few months, hundreds of family and friends support...and I won. It was overwhelming. It was heart tugging. It made me more grateful than ever for the people I am blessed to have in my life. Those I see regularly, and those, thanks to social media, I haven't seen in years. It reminded me the fear I have about countless things I have no control over, doesn't have to exist when you have others to lean on...they are your life's silver lining. Knowing me, I won't want to literally lean on them, but knowing they are there is like a magic want to the psyche...