This post was inspired by latteya and the gift she gave on Mother's Day.


I'm a mom. Yep, that's me. My Mother's Day wasn't centered around me, me, me, though. I think I'd feel awful if it had been. There was another mom that deserved it more.

This year was hard on us. At church, they passed out gifts and said prayers. So many got up to talk about their moms. We sang Amazing Grace, which was my MIL's favorite hymn. Joe did all right. But when three women got up to sing a song about a mom praying for her children, he broke down. I held his hand and he fought it back, but it was hard on him, and likewise hard on me.

"Hug your mom!" they said. He didn't have a mom to hug. But that's okay, because at church they handled this well.

Yet later…

I'm amazed more and more each day at how cruel people can be, how thoughtless and selfish. The writer in me, that side that people like to make fun of every chance they get, spent the day and now the following days in awe of the way people take life, family, and friends for granted. It makes me sad.

I'm sure the reason I see this so well right now is the pain was revived for the day, fresh and overwhelming. As Joe hurt, so did I.

Later that afternoon, while at my mom's, we went outside to play ball with our kids. My mom and dad sat outside and watched, and laughed, and cheered us on. I had Joe pitch to me overhanded—my but he can pitch! LOL. I got a good hit though!

I think it turned out all right for him. He laughed some and hugged me a lot.

But, see, that's what Mother's Day is about. It's not about gifts and anger, pouting over what you didn't get, complaining that he forgot. No, it's a celebration of life and love.

You never know if that loved one beside you will be there the next year to celebrate. But if, God forbid, they aren't, wouldn't it be better that you're left with sweet memories full of laughter?

We know all this, yet we forget it so easily.

Yes, he said you.  :-)  He was putting his shoes on to go outside and play.  I told him he had them on the wrong feet.  "Ahh," he said and took them off.  He then told me to turn my head.  This was so that I wouldn't see if he did it again and he could go ahead outside to play.  LOL.


Last night he asked for a pity ride down the sidewalk at the ball park.  "Sure," I said and bent down so he could climb on my back.  I don't know, maybe pity makes more sense to him than piggy?

We decided last year that all this running from one theme park to the next was NOT a vacation.  When we got home we didn't feel refreshed, filled with peace, or like we'd even slept in days.  Nods all around guaranteed that this year our family vacation was going to involve rest, things of interest, and leisure.  What better to answer this need but nature?

One of my most favorite things about these last trailing days of winter is planning summer vacations.  There's just something about being able to look toward the coming warm months.

Today we chose Petit Jean as our destination.  You can read about her legend here.

We had planned to go camping this summer, but really, I mean, I hate these campground things all these parks are doing these days.  If I went camping then I'd want to be far away from everyone else.  Like we did when I was a kid.  Camping isn't like that anymore, so we rented a cabin instead.  *G*

And while Joe is a bit upset and pouting that he won't have a valid reason (not that he did to begin with) to go out and buy that huge camper/trailer/whatever those things are, I think we're going to have fun. 

Last night I was on the phone with fandoria and bragging away about how I haven't had to use any of my youngest son's asthma meds all winter.  We discussed that her son was doing well in this department too.  After we got off the phone I read some more in my research books for my new WIP (spooky ghost and paranormal legends and stories) and then I crawled in bed at around 11:30.

Somewhere close to midnight I was finally drifting off when I heard the strangest ghostly type howling, low, distant--almost a moan.  Look now, I'll be honest, I almost wet my pants.  I tried to tell myself I didn't hear it and sat up cocking my head to the side.  Nothing.  No moans, no chains clinking, no evil little giggles.  Just silence.  I lay down and tried to go to sleep.  But this spooky cry sounded again...and again.  My husband was finishing up his round of nights, so it was just little ole me there.  Yeah.  See if I use spooky research as my bedtime stories again.

I finally got up and cracked my door a hair. I heard the sound again coming from down the hall, only this time I knew what it was.  Something I hadn't heard in almost four years--not since my then four month old son was rushed to Le Bonheur Children's Hospital in Memphis.  My mind then registered this was a very very bad asthma attack.  So bad in fact that the only noise he was able to make was from the left over push to get the oxygen into and out of his lungs.  In between this was that awful, scraping inhale, exhale.  Don't think I didn't run.  I made it to his room to find him sitting up in the middle of his bed, trying his best to cry, but lacking the oxygen to get it out.

God did I panic!  I snatched him up, but couldn't remember where his nebulizer was--or the meds!  I did have the presence of mind to plop him on the bathroom floor and turn on the hot water.  I then shut the door behind me and tore through the house, looking for his medicine and breathing machine.  Which were right where they always are--nebulizer in the living room cabinet, albuterol in the kitchen cabinet.

I spent the next thirty minutes rocking him, holding his face mask, and checking his fingertips every few seconds then lifting the blanket to make sure his stomach was rising and falling with his breaths normally.  It took a lot of work to get this attack under control  and I thought for sure we were headed toward the ER for an eppy treatment.  It eased though.  After I put him in bed beside me, and though his breathing was better, it was still rattling--which is good since we'd broken some of it up.  But then on the next breath, nothing sounded.  I panicked again.  But he was fine.  He'd just happened to get a good clean breath.  So my night was spent listening to his rattled breaths, worried they were getting bad again and then scared he'd stopped breathing when he didn't rattle. 

Today has been pretty good.  He's coughing off and on, but it's a loose cough, so he's recovering well.  And yes, we are back on our Pulmicort. 

My oldest daughter is turning into the most irresponsible person on the planet. And this is my fault. Since my family seems to be growing and growing the messes are too. I've started giving them a few chores to do, because I simply can't do it all and they are turning into slobs. Last night I had to go to the store after dinner and I told my daughter to load the dishwasher while I was gone. When I got back all the dinner plates were loaded and the dishwasher was running, but the pots and pans were still on the stove and full of leftover food. She was watching a Harry Potter and on the laptop. What did I do? I finished the dishes and said, "Next time I ask you to do the dishes I mean all of them."

"Okay," she said. "But you said load the dishwasher and I did." She shrugged. "It was full."

This morning they got ready for school early and she opened the laptop. I said, "No, not this morning. Make sure you have everything together and get your shoes on."

As I headed out the door, I noticed a stack of papers on the loveseat. I didn't think much of it because it was likely my husband's stuff. Then when we got to the drop off line at the school my daughter suddenly said, "I'm so stupid, I forgot to bring my study guide."

I didn't say anything, instead thinking that yes, that's what was on the loveseat.

She asked, "Can you bring it back up here?"

I said, "No."

Next came tears and panic and it's all your fault for not bringing it up here for me. "Now, I'm going to flunk!" she wailed, twisting her hands around the straps of her book bag.

First of all, this study guide is for those spring tests the schools do and they are not testing yet. Second of all, please! I may be your mama, but I don't want the drama either!

I calmly said, "When you get done with whatever you have the night before you should put it in your bag then."

"I didn't even study it last night. I took this thing out and I forgot my study guide was in it and then laid it down and that's why I forgot it."

Huh? Yeah, that made loads of sense to me too. And why is she going to flunk because I won't bring her study guide back up to the school? And yet…she didn't even study it!

Now, the point to all this: It was lying on the loveseat all morning. She actually sat next to it for a time. I can't keep covering her tracks for her and she is going to have to learn to be more responsible.

It's 31 outside now, but the ground was so warm to begin with most of the snow is gone.  I think it'll be up to 50 something tomorrow.  We built snowmen, rode the four-wheeler through it, made snowangels, built forts and had snowball fights.  It was fun.  I think we're going out for Chinese for dinner.   I'm too tired to cook now.

Writing?  No way!  I had more important things to do today.  If writing Rowan has taught me one thing, it's that.

It's eight o'clock in the morning and 55 degrees outside.  Highs today around 75.  Yay!  But then, storms tomorrow and after surviving that a drastic drop to a high of 34. 


Yep.  Batten down the hatches Southern friends, a storm's brewing out there.


What am I doing today?  First I'm emailing files for safety measures and then I'm off to my parents to visit with my brother who's flown in from California for a few days.

It's been some time since I posted a young love episode.  Since today is the day and she is still in love with the same boy, I thought I'd share.   In case you are new and haven't  yet read a Young Love episode, here's what it's about:

My seven year old daughter has had a crush on the same boy since kindergarten.  This is her second grade year and she (squeee) got in the same classroom as he did.  Nothing will stop her.  He will be her boyfriend!

Sorry 'bout that.  I had to change that background again. It was killing my eyeballs. 

We finished the second grade shadow box project tonight.  I'm gonna post a pic of it.  Thanks to my SIL, who gave me the shoe box and sounded halfway excited about it last night therefore transferring her own excitement to me.  So, I actually got my rear in gear and my seven year old daughter is pleased.  She did all the work, btw.  I did stand on the sidelines cheering.  :)




Oh, sorry, wrong one.  I just thought this one was pretty.  :-)


Here it is:



Oh, sorry.  That one is the abandoned farmhouse from my novel, On the Other Hand.  :)

This ought to be the shadow box.

Thank you so much to everyone who kept us in your thoughts and prayers for the last couple of days.  Everything came back not only good, but excellent.  My husband is a bloom of health, but apparently stressed to the max.  (not to say I didn't know this...)  

Anyway, it looks like Prozac is to be our best friend for a while. *G*

I'm exhausted, I know that much.  We had to be at the hospital at 6 this morning and I'm not used to getting up at 4:30.  So, now I'm going to try to get back to normal. 

And to speed this process along, I opened my email to a nicely worded 'no thank you'.  Ah, it's nice to be back in the familiar routine. *G*

 A tidbit of shocking news to throw in here.  My mom read over what I have of ITLOF and actually shuffled papers around when she was finished, frowning. 

She asked, "Is this it?  I didn't mess up and lose a few?"

"Nope, that's all I have so far."

"You can't stop right here.  This is really good!"

My mouth dropped.  See, my mom is not one of those that thinks everything I write is wonderful just because I wrote it.  Actually, she's not liked anything I've written so far.  And also, the last bit she read was not anywhere near a cliff hanger. 

"I'm going to start back up with it as soon as things get back to normal," I said.

"You'd better.  I love this."

Wow.

Well, not only did she get her first deer this past weekend and I'm super proud of her for that!  Even though I really didn't think she'd be able to do it when push came to shove.  She pulled the trigger though.  By the way, I couldn't do this. I asked my husband if he cried more over the first deer than he did the day she was born.  He said he probably did.

Now, today, she has shown her genius once again.

My question was:  "How can something you don't believe in make you afraid?"

My eleven year old daughter answered me after about two minutes of thought:  "Well, it's not so much believing as it is the images your mind can cook up.  You certainly can't flip a switch or change the channel when it comes to your imagination.  Most of the time, even though you try so hard, you still can't think of anything else."

My daughter returned from her trip with more stories than I think I can come up with in a lifetime.

First up is the canoe flip over. So the tale goes according to my daughter:

"Well," Daughter said, "everybody says it happened different, but Adin was reaching for the buoy, I know he was."

"And he fell out?" I asked.

"He flipped the whole thing over. But that's not the funny part. What was funny was Matt went under too, of course, cause he was in the canoe. But Adin went nuts, crying and screaming for his mom and that he wanted to go home and he couldn't swim. Me and Kaylee just sat there with our mouths open for a long time before we started to paddle over there."

"Well, what was Matt doing?" I asked.

"He yanked Adin by the arm and pushed him to the buoy. When they got the canoe flipped back over and both were back in, guess what he said?"

"Who, Adin or Matt?"

"Matt. He sat down, grabbed a handful of his shirt, wrung it out, and then looked right at Adin and said, 'you idiot.'"

LOL. I like this Matt kid. I've never met the boy, but that one line made me like him.

That night is seems the teachers entertained themselves scaring the kids over and over. This wasn't hard for me to imagine since at least three of the teachers I partied with as a teen. So, yeah, the stories made me smile, cause whatever the teachers were doing, in my mind, I saw them doing this as the kids we once were. Some days I just feel old.

I think briefly I mentioned months ago that my husband's mom is ill.  Things are not looking too good these days and I'm taking a bit of a vacation from my writing life.  He needs me and my full attention.  So for awhile, I will be scarce.

"Devon says I talk too much, but I can still play with him."

I said, "Is this so?  What did you play?"

"He chased me and I ran and ran.  He never caught me! I'm fast, ya know."

"Good girl!"

My seven yr old has had a crush on the same boy since kindergarten. This year he's actually in her class. She's been so excited about this. *G* Monday night while I was doing the dishes she came in behind me.

"Mama," she said.

"Hmm?" I turned to her. She had three shirts in her hands.

"I'm wearing my new skirt tomorrow," she said. "Which one of these shirts do you think Devon will like?"

I opened my mouth, but only smiled. She ended up choosing a white one with ¾ length, ruffled sleeves. Since they would be inside all day. "We can't go outside if it's over 95 degrees. And it's been over 100 anyway."

After school, she was bouncing around the living room, from the hearth to the couch, to the armchair and back again, her new skirt twirling. There's nothing like a good twirly skirt to make a girl feel beautiful! I was in one of the chairs, reading. But I remembered the night before, so I asked her if Devon liked her skirt.

She smiled and said, "Well, I don't know, but he kept trying to pull my backpack off me when we were getting on the bus."

"Oh, my," I said. "I think he likes you."

"I told him he did," she said. "I said, 'Devon, you like me.' But he said, 'Eww, no I don't.' I know he does though."

My daughter is convinced she's going to marry this Devon and her plans include 12 children. I asked her what she planned to do with 12 kids. She said, "They'll clean my house for me."

"You don't clean my house for me," I said.

"I don't clean, that's why I'm gonna have 12 kids."

Gosh, I hope out of all 12 of those she gets at least one that likes to clean.

Writing news: I painfully got down 800 new words on OTOH yesterday. It's so hard on me to make the switch from the 1800's to the here and now. The switch from Third to First is hard some days too. Mostly, the problem is TTOD is talking loud right now and Shannon isn't. Or so I thought. I had decided last night to go on and write chapter one for TTOD, but woke up this morning feeling I could give some more time to OTOH today after all.

I've always wanted him to have one. I've always wanted to say that. The truck search is over. It is owned and in hand. Nothing makes a man feel more like a man than having a big, rumbling engine beneath their hands. We are now the proud owners of a Dodge, yada, yada, 4x4 with a Hemi. And the best news about this king cab truck... and I'm quoting here, "The kids have their own damn door."  *g* Excuse my husband's language, please.  Thank goodness little junior wasn't around. He's decided to repeat everything these days.

My hubby won a plasma TV tonight!  I'm not sure what it looks like, but perhaps my brother will pass by here and leave me a link since he picked them out for the drawing...

Out of ten years at the company this is my husband's first year to win anything. He's so high up there on cloud nine he didn't even make a face when I asked him to take our three year old to the bathroom before we left. Wow!

I've never been happier to see a cornfield in my life. While I had fun, I didn't get much sleep. I did eat quite a bit, but I'm thinking it's either one or the other with me. I couldn't sleep past 6:30 because the sun came in through the blinds and if I flipped over it reflected off the hot tub mirror which was beside the bed. I had no where to run from the sun. I could have slept in the living room I guess.  I also could have went to bed at a decent hour every night too, but instead stayed up reading books. I read six books this week. I'm a book junky. If I'm not writing I must be reading. 

Now the sad news about the trip home was I got car sick. This is bad because I didn't realize what was going on until almost too late. Actually my husband realized what it was and pulled over. He shoved Dramamine down my throat and in twenty minutes the headache, flushed face, and sick feeling was gone. After that life looked worth living again.  I've never been car sick and really don't want to repeat it. Ok, I guess I should be technical here. It's motion sickness, right? 

We came home to an overgrown garden so spent the evening picking tomatoes, squash, green beans, okra, peppers, and cucumbers. Today I get to finish unpacking and can green beans. I feel so homey and all. *g* 

Anyway, here are some pics of the week: The first is one of the lakes we passed over every day. The second is me and my three kiddies. Yeah, I'm the wimp in the sweatshirt. It was cold out that day! Well, to me that is. Nobody else was. The third is more mountain view and the fourth is at one of the museums we went to.

My husband has been telling me for some time I needed this trip. So right he was.

The trip up was like some slow transformation. I started out a ball of stress, which I've been for so long lately. Halfway here I broke down in tears for no reason, then we got rained on, but it was a nice cleansing rain. I felt better after the rain. As the world dropped away and nature took over again, well I just felt better. The temps dropped from a steaming 109 where we live to a lovely 72 as we neared our destination.

Joe and I got in only one fight which didn't escalate too high. *g* He decided, as typical, that a detour didn't include him in the road closed up ahead. So we drove the extra three miles to the closed road and of course had to turn around to go back and take the detour. Yeah of course I had to comment. I wouldn't be a wife if I didn't. *G*  Anyway he was doing so much snorting, eye rolling, and sharp breathing through his nose, all over my comments, that by the time he finally came around to telling me to "lay off," I was too humored to get mad at him. *g*

So we went out to eat last night and I ate. This is something I realized I hadn't been doing much of lately. I didn't notice this until I did eat. I_have_ been really stressed. I tend to not eat when stressed. I thought I ate on the 4th, but looking back I was running around getting food set out and then just picked at stuff. It's no wonder I've been living with such a constant headache lately. We played a game of mini-golf and I think I beat Joe. I haven't added the scores up yet, but I think I did. I've never done that before either. The only bad point so far is Joe turned the condo's air down to 60 when he got here yesterday afternoon and forgot he'd done it. Everyone was up with the chickens at dawn. (ok, I stole the line from Logan and I stole Logan's line from my husband. *g*) Anyway we were all wrapped in blankets, shivering, and I had to turn the heat on for a bit. Yeah, I did a lot of frowning, snorting and eye rolling myself this time. *g*

Believe it or not, I got everyone packed. And it's off to the mountains we go. Thank goodness I still have internet access up there. lol. I don't have a clue of what I'd spend my evenings doing otherwise. Well, maybe writing or eating icecream, or watching TV, mopping my kitchen floor.