Palm Sunday - Newsome Style

When we lived in Hawaii Amanda started school. While in Kindergarten, which was full-day in Hawaii, Amanda went on her first field trip to the Honolulu Zoo. Field trip day is always exciting for the kids and Amanda was giddy with excitement as well.

After school that day the children were all sitting at the table enjoying a snack so I asked Amanda about her day, "So, your very first field trip! What an exciting day. What was your favorite part of the zoo?" Fully expecting a response of something like the apes or giraffes or bears, I was surprised when Amanda paused for a moment and then said, "I liked the Savannah the best."

Now Monica was sitting there taking all of this in and she wasn't too happy with any of it. Not only was Amanda getting all of the attention but her older sister got to go someplace exciting and fun. Monica was feeling a bit left out and perhaps jealous too.

Completely taken by Amanda's response I said, "Savannah? Oh Amanda that is a big word. I'm very impressed you know what the Savannah is." And now Monica, having had enough with this nonsense and never being one to be outdone by her sister, finally spoke up. In a very matter-of-fact manner, with words that held the confidence of wise scholar, Monica said, "Savannah is not a big word. I know what Savannah means."

I was pretty sure Monica was bluffing and trying to steal her sister's thunder so I challenged her, "You do? You know what the Savannah is?"

Very confidently, Monica replied, in her 4 year old little voice, "Yes! When Jesus rode into the town on the donkey the people waved branches and yelled, 'Savannah! Savannah!"

Matthew 21:9

The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

From Monica and the entire Newsome family -- Savannah! Hosanna! Have blessed Easter Season.!

Embracing the Empty Nest (with a puppy)

We took Monica back to Kent last weekend. I think I’m finally “getting over it” –leaving my kids (or them leaving us). I mean, it only took me 5 years but this is the very first year we took one of the kids to school and there were no tears for me on the way home. In fact, we practically did a “drive by drop off”. After we dumped Monica’s boxes and college stuff in her room, took her out to lunch and did the traditional “Newsome last trip to Walmart” (all those things for the room/dorm you forgot or didn’t realize you needed) we pulled up in the parking lot in front on Monica’s Sorority House and said, “Well, okay –we’ll see you later.” Monica was like, “Uh ---so –you’re not coming up . . . we’re just saying good-bye right here?” Jerry said, “Well, your Mother can go up with you. I’ll just wait here but don’t take too long or I’ll start blowing the horn.” I thought it was a good idea to walk up with Monica because well, I really needed to use the bathroom ---oh yeah, and stay with Monica a little longer too, yeah that too. When we got up to Monica’s room and I was done using the bathroom I said, “Well, give me a hug” as I was scooting towards the door and poor Monica looked and said, “You’re not going to help me unpack or anything? You normally make my bed for me.” I looked over at her bed, which was piled with clothes and things and said, “I can’t even see your bed! Besides, you need something to do for the rest of the afternoon –your roommates won’t be here until tomorrow.” We hugged, said our good-byes, Monica walked down to the van with me and then –all she saw was a black streak as the van made its quick get-away.

Poor Zach, our third child, won’t get any of the drama his sisters got. The summer before Amanda and Monica’s freshmen years our living room was piled high with dorm/college stuff. We shopped, made lists, planned, prepared, cried, lamented, dreaded . . . Now let’s see—it’s Wednesday, Zach moves up to Michigan on Saturday and we have ZERO purchased, ZERO packed. Last night Zach said to me, “So . . don’t you think I should be packing or getting ready or something?” I kind of sighed and very nonchalantly said, “Well yes, I guess so. I’ll get some boxes from work ---but you know, I took a ½ day off from work on Friday so we’ll be fine.” Amanda got three months of preparation and packing, Monica got probably two months and Zach well, he gets a good solid 4 hours. I mean, I’m going to pack my butt off for the ENTIRE 4 hours. Even my friends are shocked. They ask me when Zach leaves and then they pause waiting for the water works but I just stand there and they say, “So . . . then, uh ….this Saturday, huh?” Again, pausing waiting for the emotional breakdown but I’m cool as ice and they comment, “I guess then this is getting easier, huh?” One of Zach’s roommates (three are sharing a 2-bedroom apartment) is the oldest child –that kid’s Dad emails me 2-3 times a day, “Do you think we need this . . should I get that . . .we need to coordinate . . .does Zach have . . “ I read his emails and think to myself, “Gosh, was I that bad with Amanda? Calm down, dude. It’s going to be Okay!!!!”

I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t have four kids. By the time we got to the fourth going off to college I’d probably be like, “So uh, your Dad and I are going to be off on an Alaskan cruise the day you move into the dorm –so we were just wondering, do you think you can fit all of your stuff in your car? I guess you could take our van but then we’d have to come get it and well, that would just be a big hassle.

See, Zach is lucky he’s not a fourth child ---and in my defense, I am devoting an ENTIRE four hours to the boy’s college moving preparations.

Like I said, Zach leaves on Saturday. His roommate is from Cincinnati so his parents are renting a truck then driving it to our house, we’ll load up Zach’s things and then the 6 of us; two sets of parents and 2 college freshmen, will head to Glen Oaks. I feel sorry for Jerry. Monica’s freshman year she lived on the fifth floor in the dorms and though there were elevators, the lines were so long –Jerry just hauled her things up the stairs. Amanda had a third floor dorm her Sophomore year, sans elevators and then a second floor apartment. Now Zach’s apartment is on the third floor. I’m not gonna lie –I make as few trips up/down the stairs as possible. I make 1-2 trips just to make it look good and then I busy myself with unpacking or I walk up and down the hallway with the same box pretending I just made another trip up the stairs. I might even make it look good by panting and saying, “Whew, those stairs are kicking my butt!”

Biggest news -- we got a puppy! I know, such a proverbial Empty Nester thing to do, right? With our "baby" leaving us, I needed someone to love and care for. Our little male Yorkie is named Franklin Graham. We wanted a hearty name with dignity –not a traditional doggie name and something Presidential seemed befitting for our pup so we landed on the name Franklin, after the honorable President Franklin D. Roosevelt. I was set on the name McKinley but I was out voted and the children gave Graham as a middle name to appease me as that was also one of my top choice names. Graham, not being presidential but I thought being named after Alexander Graham Bell was dignified, too. Besides, our little black and tan pup looks about as big as a graham cracker. George was also a name of distinction that was in the running. I’m so in love with our puppy and he loves me too. Kids? What kids? Jerry, do we have kids? I’m so smitten with Franklin I’d almost forget we have three human kids of our own –except when the tuition payments hit us and then I remember, “Oh yeah, we have that one girl up at Kent."

I’m off to pick up some paint samples –with all these kids moving out there are so many possibilities for all of those empty bedrooms . . . .

P.S. Make that THREE solid hours devoted to Zach's moving preparations! I'm taking Puppy for his first trip to the Groomer on Friday and possibly an outing to Pet Smart (I've always wanted to stroll around in there with my very own doggie). But I mean, it is going to be a SOLID three hours --its all about quality, not quantity and I promise Zach, I'm there for ya, buddy!

The Ugly Side

As I wrote the post below, Zach is playing X Box (again) after sloppily rushing through a job I asked him to do, after first complaining and groaning how unfair I am and how it was too hot outside . . . .

Monica took her crabby self upstairs because she's sick of "my music" because after all, the house should revolve around her and her likes/dislikes . . . .

And Amanda is (again) MIA -- because she comes and goes like she's just a tenant in an apartment (that --ahem doesn't exactly pay rent) and not a family member in a home . . . .

I guess that's why they call a Mother's love unconditional.

My Children

My first born. Though in eager anticipation I awaited your arrival, I was at times wrought with fear. I was afraid of labor and delivery and if you would be okay but mostly, I was afraid of becoming a mother, what if I wasn't good enough? During my pregnancy I loved you even not knowing you and I thought that was the extent of my maternal love. What I did not know is the very moment you took your first breath, you unlocked recesses of my heart I never even knew existed. I discovered a new love that was amazing and fresh. With you everything was new and with each of your own discoveries, I learned more about myself, our Creator and this world we live in. My heart would leap just at the sight of you. You grew my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable joy. My first born, you are my joy.

You have filled my heart with greater joy. Psalm 4:7

My middle child. You broke the mold. Just when I thought I had motherhood all figured out, you came along and I soon discovered I had nothing figured out. I didn't know loving you was going to take me by surprise as it did when my first child was born. Your new life took my breath away. Thinking loving you would just be an extension of the motherly love I already experienced, I was simply blown away the first time I laid eyes on you. You led me on a path of discovery as I discovered not only who you were but who I was as your Mother. Your brand new life brought to me a brand new love. You stretched my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable love. My middle child, you are my love.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. I Corinthians 13:13

My last born. You are like the happy ending of a story you don't want to end. When saying good-bye to the characters of a good book, you can be left wondering, "What comes next?" And the first time I held you I thought, "What comes next?" When you were born I realized you were the secret desire of my heart, I longed for you before I even knew you. I could not wait to show you the world, to introduce you to all of creation and everything that is good. I wanted to teach you and help you grow but in the midst of that, you taught me and helped me to grow. You made me a mother I had never been before. Not just a third addition to our family, you were the culmination of joy and love. You opened my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable delight. My last born, you are my delight.

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

My Children. You are my joy, love and delight. I marvel at the creation of you.

For you created my inner most being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:13-14

WHY ARE THEY STILL HERE?

When we lived in Georgia, one of our neighbors was a single woman that had a 30-something son that lived with her. Gathering from small-talk conversations here and there, the son had fairly recently moved back home with Mom, after losing his job and unable to live on his own. But it was just a temporary arrangement, the Mom would say.

I'm usually not very chummy with our neighbors because for one, I am an extremely shy person. Most people wouldn't guess that about me but I find it PAINFUL to engage in conversations with people I don't know. Also I'm not a lover of the outdoors so standing at the fence for hours upon hours talking to a neighbor isn't something I'd be very apt to do --but Jerry, my socially equipped husband, would find no greater way to spend an afternoon. And he did, many times.

And so our dear sweet neighbor would often tell of her son, "He's very hard working, such a nice young man --he just fell on some hard times but he's working hard to find another job . . ." But as far as I could tell, this 30-something man was well --not so hard working and not really looking for a job. He'd often say to Jerry, "I heard such-in-such place was hiring so I thought I'd go over there and put in an application." I mean, he thought a lot about things but putting those thoughts into action seemed an insurmountable task to the young man er, I mean --fully grow-up adult son. Jerry and I found it amusing how the mother spoke so highly of her son and yet, as far as we could see, he was just the opposite of everything she'd say. The son never stayed at one job every often as he often spoke of many different places, “. . when I worked over at . . . " and in a short amount of time too. We hardly ever saw him leave the house and not that we were the Mrs. Cravitz type but you know, in the course of our daily living, we hardly saw him out of his sofa-lounge wear or going to and from places. So maybe I'm being judgmental or harsh? Perhaps but most telling of this man was the condition of the neighbor's yard. The back yard was a disaster. The son brought his dog to Mom's with him and the dog did what dogs do in back yards, and the son never cleaned up after the dog --and the front yard had grass (weeds) 2 feet tall. The 30-something man would say, "Yeah, I'm 'bout to mow that grass for Mom." but much like the job hunting, the thinking rarely came to fruition and it wouldn't be long before we'd see the Mom mowing the yard.

Jerry always says of our own children, they can always come home. No matter what their age or circumstances, our home is their home –FOREVER. And I agree. We’d never turn our children away from living with us no matter their age or even how many they had in tow with them; spouse, children and a pet or two. That’s what Home should be – a place you can always go back to. Then again, if my 30-something year old unemployed son was living with me, my yard work would not be left undone and not because I'd demand that of him but hopefully because we instilled that in him --sort of that "earn your keep" mentality.

But this really isn’t about 30-something year old sons, former neighbors or yard work. In my lessons of learning to let go, I find this very strange phenomenon; that we as parents spend the entirety of our children’s childhood raising them up to be adults. It’s the end result, the goal, what we work towards. We teach them and prepare them, as best we know how, and then we let them go.

Let them go.

Everything we do is in an effort to make our children independent. Roughly at the age of two, they start grasping some of that concept when willfully demanding, “Mine! Mine!”, of almost any belonging, theirs or not. Along with trying to brand every item they ever touched as their very own, my toddling children used to also love to exclaim, "I do!" because they loved being so independent and free.

We cheered them when they learned to walk and talk and mastering using the potty was a celebration indeed. Early in life our children were taking these tiny steps towards total independence and as parents, we longed for it too. As a young mother I remember being anxious for that next milestone --I can't wait until they can walk, I can 't wait until they are out of a car seat, I can't wait until they can sit at the table and reach, I can't wait until they can . . . .

And now they can.

This is what we worked so hard towards, right?

So why is it so hard?

You see, I don't want a 30-something year old son living at home, not working nor attempting to work and not at the very least, helping around the house --and I certainly don't want his dog's poop piling up in my back yard. . . .

I don't want dependent adult children and Jerry sometimes jokes, "I'll be glad when I can walk around my own house butt naked."

But you know, that's just Jerry's way of saying he longs for some privacy in his own home.

I don't even know where this post is going except to say, this is a very strange stage of parenting for me. I want them to go and I want them to stay. All at the same time and at any given time, I can sum it up as feeling this way about my children --

PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME! WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

In some ways I'm still looking forward to those new milestones --I can't wait until they graduate college, I can't wait to see them choose a career or spouse --I can't wait to see where their lives go . . .I want so much for them and their future . . so much that does not include dog poop piling u in my back yard.

All I know is this, new Moms think they have so much to learn and they think at some point it finally clicks. It doesn't because as soon as you have one thing figured out, your children grow into a new stage. Parenting is constant learning and growing.

The best I can do is try to be the best learner I can be and open myself to growing.

They don't need me as much anymore and I guess in a way that says we accomplished our goal. Just like the first time I let go of a chubby toddler's hand and watched them walk away, I'm letting go now too --watching them walk away. And it leaves my heart screaming . .

PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!

Then when they stumble or feel insecure and try to grab hold of my hand again it leaves my heart screaming . .

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

*sigh* I just can't figure it out.

I just hope they all go before Jerry starts strutting around in his birthday suit.

Peace and Quiet

I remember coming up to Mother's Day one year I was in the midst of cooking dinner, the washing machine going, tripping over towers of toys, TV blasting and three children running around the house when Zach approached me and wanted to know what I wanted for Mother's Day. I didn't really have anything in mind but more than that, it was just really bad timing on Zach's part. When I told him I really didn't want anything he kept pushing the issue and wanted to know something concrete.

but you know, like I said . . it was really bad timing. I finally said . .

"Peace and quiet! I'd just like some peace and quiet!"

But as three year olds would do, Zach took my request literally. In fact, so literally when his Cubbie Leader was asking the children what special things they had planned for their Moms for Mother's Day Zach said, "My Mom just wants some peace and quiet." She got a chuckle out of it (Judy Campbell).

Fast forward 15 years later.

Jerry is away at ROTC camp, Amanda is out to dinner with friends, Monica is at work and Zach is at the Y playing basketball.

*cricket cricket*

Be careful what you ask for.

Peace and quiet feels a lot like just being alone.

Best Days

Buried within a mundane very ordinary day, I found a gem. I had to be careful not to miss it because sometimes the shine of our gems get clouded out by the nothing-ness of the day.

A simple day.

A lasting treasure.

Saturday is a busy day for me. Since I work full-time outside of the home, Saturdays are my only errand/cleaning days. It wears me down sometimes and there are days I'd rather not be bothered but for the most part, I don't mind them. And if you come a little closer I'll share a secret with you --one that I certainly would not want my family to discover --- *whispers* I actually like housework; the cleaning, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping --all of it. I love serving my family. It's just who I am. But please keep that secret just between you and me, lest my family take me for granted!

So in this very ordinary day, I planned an early commissary trip. I wanted to be there when they opened at 9am so I can get the shopping done and get more work done at home. I asked the children who would go with me, "Not I", said Amanda. "Not I", said Zachary. "I will! I will go!", said Monica. After a slight grumbling of the time we'd depart the house, Monica agreed to go grocery shopping with me.

And that's it. It wasn't an exciting day. It was a work day. With my list and coupons in hand, I headed out to the commissary, Monica riding shot gun. We shopped, she pushed the cart and then with every item crossed off our list, we headed back home; unloading groceries, putting groceries away, cutting up and cleaning fruit, making room in the pantry, filling the snack drawer with treats ---just a very ordinary commissary trip.

The remainder of the day was chores. Chore day. Yes, there was a list; family room, living room, basement, bathrooms, bedrooms, kitchen --they all had their own list of things that needed attention and all the while, the washing machine ever running. This was no spectacular day. It wasn't even scrapbook worthy.

But behind the walls of work and chores I found a gem. I found Monica--just she and I. The two of us. We talked, we laughed, we sang songs, we drank coffee, we worked side-by-side and in that, I found the most treasured moments of just being together. Its these type of days I miss when she is away at school. I miss the ordinary things --I just miss her presence in the daily things we do.

Don't miss it. Don't miss the bonding and the relationship building that happens right there while you're cooking dinner, folding laundry or scrubbing a toilet. Though the chores might be the staring role in the feature, look closer there and find there is also a sub plot --another story going on and if you get too caught up in the work at hand, you might miss it. But if you're careful to look with your heart, there you will find a most glorious support role . . . .

and those are the best days.

Thank you Monica, I had the best day with you, today.

Leaving and Cleaving

Yesterday we took Zach on a campus visit and you know, I'm familiar because after all, I've done this before with our daughters. Even though visits to Miami University and Kent State brought me to tears, I was strong this time. Maybe I am growing up, learning to embrace a pre-empty nester stage. Maybe I finally get it.

Maybe.

Today our Pastor started a new sermon series on the family, Family Focus, you know --not to be confused with Focus on the Family because that's been done. And Pastor began at the --well, at the beginning. You know, like Julie Andrews did with the von Tapp children, he said, we'll, "start at the very beginning, a very good place to start."

I was ready to start --and possibly break into a musical stance because I know every word of every song from the Sound Of Music --oh but this isn't about that family so time to pay attention now.

And pay attention I did. I really did. Here we are in Genesis 1, the very beginning --God's design of the family unit; a husband, wife & children. So far so good because I understand God's design of the family. I get one husband, one wife. I get divorce was not God's plan . I understand blended families and single parenting homes were not God's design. I understand a MAN and a WOMAN --not two of one but one of each. So Now I can probably sit back and coast through the sermon. Having once myself been on the brink of divorce, I understand the trials of marriage but I also understand even when you can't commit your heart and self to a person that has broken your heart time and time again, you CAN commit your heart and self to a GOD that has healed every crack, a GOD that walked me through the fire. A God that brought restoration to my marriage, to my heart.

So I was all set to sit back and only half listen, perhaps make a mental grocery list for this afternoon's commissary trip and then, and then, AND THEN --Pastor said something that put on the breaks.

Leave and Cleave.

Hold on Pastor, now you've gone too far! I was 'bout to get up and call a Time Out. This ain't no do re mi and I ain't fa la la la la-ing along!

These aren't words I want to hear. My heart has spent the last 4 years wresting with this leaving stuff. Leave? Visions of Zach on campus yesterday --far far away from me ran through my mind. I wanted to shut down but as the Holy Spirit has this tendency to do, I heard a new message in this Genesis 1. It wasn't about my leaving but their leaving. The message for me today was not about my marriage but my family and now I was listening with more intent and I was listening as a mother, not just as a woman.

And I was learning. learning more, growing into a deeper understanding.

Speaking of her future, Amanda once said something about moving out of state and I asked her if she'd really leave me and she said, "Mom, its what children do --they grow up and they leave." I seriously wanted to slap her, that cuts deep. I mean I didn't really want to slap her and I know what she said was true but you know, I'm still learning about letting go.

Left up to my own design, it would be more like --I'll let you know when I'm ready for you to leave and there will be no cleaving. But you know what? Its not my design.

Ready or not, here I come!

Ready or not, Melissa, its time for them to leave. Ready or not Melissa, they're gonna have to cleave too. Its not about them wanting to leave. Its not about me wanting them to stay. Its just not about our own choices. It's about God's design for the family. He reminded me that they will leave me, he will not. And God hasn't forgotten every aspect of his plan, his design. He knows my heart. He knows my struggles. He knows how hard it is for me to let go. He knows my pain because he's God.

A perfect God.

That knows far more than me.

What's best for my family.

And my children.

A perfect God and His design of the family.

Leave and Cleave.

Who am I to mess with that?

Notes

When they were younger my children often left me notes on my pillow. I loved them. After reading them, I'd slip them into my night stand drawer. Now years later, whenever I need me a pick-me-up or whenever I'm missing my girls, I pull the notes out and read them. I reminisce about those innocent childhood days. I laugh. I cry.

Here are a few of them exactly how they were written.

Don't let me forget to where my hair silly and don't let me forget my instrument. Please let me sleep as long as I can. I need some cloughs to where. Thank you very much for the lipgloss. Love, Monica

I love you Mom. Thank you for such a great birthday.

Mom,

Please don't forget to turn off my lava lamp because the last time I forgot to tell you it stayed on for 8 hours!!!!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!

Mommy,

Please wake me up early to study my spelling words. I love you soooooooooooooooooooooooooo MUCH! Amanda

Dear Mom,

My tummy hurts. But I want you to come to my room just me and you. Also I want my tooth out it is killing me. From, Monica Newsome P.S. I love you to the water tower and back. NOT :) P.S.S. I love you to heavens heaven and back a million times.

Dear Mom,

When are you coming home. Have a safe trip. I love you. DRIVE SAFE! I love you. Zach keeps crying. Make sure you wake me up so I can say by to you. Love, Monica

(this one is in colorful crayons)

39

thirty-nine

more beautiful

kids growing up another year of your life

I love you for another year

Still young

Happy Birthday

I just wanted to tell you how much I love you and that you are the best thing that has happened to me.

Dear Mom,

I just wanted to ask if there was something wrong because you seam very angry and I hope you do not stay angry for long. I hope you have a safe trip to Chicago and home. I LOVE YOU! Love, Monica P.S. Don't stay angry long. XOXOXOXO

Dear Mom,

I love you. I want to know if I can ware shorts tomorrow because I know that it is going to be hot enough and I just want to because I think that by now I should be able to ware shorts. I can't wait to get your camp kern money so I can go shopping Maybe buy my own lipgloss company, It will be called Purple lipgloss for Princesss . . .or something like that but I don't think I will every get tired of purple. My wedding is going to be purple. Love, Monica Ramona Newsome P.S. I love you!!

Dear Mom, I love you very much. I just wanted to say hi. Love, Monica P.S. I love you to the moon and back one thousand times.

(Here's one I saved from Jerry's pillow)

Dear Dady, I thank you for leting me help. I like working with you it is fun. I also like haning out with you. Most Dad's and son's don't have a good reltionship like us. I love you. I LOVE YOU! I love you Dad From, Zach your son

Respect

Mom I said this a thousand times. sometimes People say to get them off your back. Sometimes people mean it. Well this time Mom I mean it. I'm sorry I'm really sorry. I hoped that you will forgive me.

Sometimes I mean to show it but sometimes I don't. I'm sorry when I complain and stomp by feet. Or when you tell me something I indure [ignore]. Or I groan I talk under my breath.

But Mom I don't mean it. You have the right to punish me. sometimes I see it in you when your tired. You want some rest. Like you would want a big vacation. You deserve one. I see it you came home from a long day at work.

Most people rest after that but you haft to take the complants [complaints] from me. I never say hi any more. I'm always demanding something. When I don't get my way. I pout and get mad.

All I'm saying is here's your vacation. I will try not to give you a hard time. Thanks for being super Mom. Love, Zach

There are countless more. I love them all!

I love those days. I love my children. They are my heart, my past, my present and my future.

Thank you Amanda, Monica and Zachary for loving me and being such great children. It is my honor to be your Mom.

I love you to the moon and back.

Where Did She Go

Where did she go, the baby I once had
I went to her crib and walked away sad

For the tiny baby that had my heart in a furl
Has now been replaced by a little girl

And I loved that girl and watched her play
Hoping a little girl she always would stay

But I soon discovered her dolls were no more
For now she has stepped through yet another door

And before me I saw a young woman at heart
Hoping with this one, I never would part

Then one day I discovered she needed no longer
My hand to hold her--and I had to get stronger

To let her walk away into a life of her own
For my baby girl is ever so grown

I see in her eyes such spirit for living
Her heart ever open, her soul ever giving

To the future before her, unknowing and new
So I step to the side, as us mothers must do

Before me a I see a woman I adore
My pride ever swelling more and more

Though my arms ever empty and my hands ever still
My baby ever growing, my heart gets its fill

Of the love of a baby, my girl and my daughter
Watching her learn lessons life has now taught her

And the journey of this mother's heart
That sometimes can get stuck back at the start

Because I sit and I wonder, where did she go
The baby I held, that needed me so

The crib so long gone and the dolls packed away
A baby and girl she could not stay

And it all went before me ever so fast
Dashing through the present, making a past

Where did she go, the baby I once had
I went to her crib and walked away sad

Mothers

An Army Blogging Break to say, I'm so thankful for my children and being their mother is truly the most honoring & exciting experience I have ever had. I'm blessed beyond measure.

Any amount of love my heart is capable of flows from a merciful God that demonstrated his love for us when his son died on the cross. We love Him because He first loved us. Second to that are the lessons of life and loving I learned from two very godly strong women; my mother and my grandmother, Meme. They are both home with the Lord now. My heart is ever so thankful for having the privilege of knowing and loving them both.

Happy Mother's Day!

The Best & Worst Day Ever!

Having three children especially close in age, it is a rare thing to have a quantity of one-on-one time with each child. Though I love family time and being with all of my children, you learn the most precious things about your child in solitaire moments.

Yesterday, after a long winter break, I took Monica back to Kent. Though we've made this trip together on several occasions, this was the first time she didn't sleep most of the drive up there. For three solid hours, we chatted without interruption about the most random subjects. We talked about our likes and dislikes in movie stars, music, interesting facts about our family members, my childhood, my Mom (she often slips into our conversations), funny family stories, Jerry's cooking . . . . . It was a delightful trip.

When we got to Kent, we were fortunate enough to score a wheeled bin right away so it only took one trip to get Monica's things up to her 7th floor room. She was quick to show me all of the new things she added to her room since my last visit there in September. I helped her unpack a few things and then our hungry stomachs were demanding food.

With no particular agenda for the day, we took our time driving through downtown Kent, taking notice of stores or places that would come in handy in the future. We drove to the Alpha Phi house but didn't get to go in. At least now I know where it is. We ended up at Panera for lunch and both were disappointed when they were out of the bread for our favorite sandwiches, which seems to be happening more and more at Panera! Annoying! Lunch was more conversation and discussions - -though this time, Monica was a little preoccupied with text messages.

For some reason, we can't seem to take our girls to school without a trip to Walmart -- so we headed off to Walmart. Monica needed a few things but mostly we browsed and compared this new rather large Walmart to the one we frequent at home. After a small purchase was made, we headed back to Monica's room.

I sensed Monica was not yet ready for me to leave and quite frankly, I was not ready to say good-bye either. I stayed in her room for about an hour and we just chatted some more -- accomplished nothing along the lines of unpacking or organizing Monica's things. I wanted to stay longer but knowing I had to work the next morning and unsure of the northern Ohio weather for the evening, I did not want to be on the road too late. Monica walked me down to the van and since I parked a little far away from her dorm and she did not wear a coat, I drove her back to her door. I was glad for the excuse to have her linger with me a little while longer -saying good-bye this time was as impossible as it was the first day we took her to Kent -- maybe even a bit worse.

All I could think about was how wonderful it was having her home for break -- even with her crazy Golden Girls obsession. I knew coming home from work each day was going to seem empty without her there to greet me.

With the snow and a lot of traffic due to students coming back, the parking lot was a mess which prevented any lingering good-byes. Like the first time we dropped her off, I tried to watch Monica walk back to her dorm but with all of the people and boxes being moved in, I lost sight of her. As I turned the corner to leave, I tried to catch a last glimpse of her but it was too late . . she was already in the building and on her way back up to the 7th floor of Wright Hall.

As I drove off campus I wondered if my heart was going to ache this much every time the girls went back to school after a break. It seemed the drive home was going to be very sad, lonely and long. I began to busy my mind with all of the dinner options I had before me - -eating on the road is sometimes my favorite thing to do. I was trying to decide between actual food or just a Starbucks treat -- or both. I wondered if I should sit and eat alone, which I really don't mind doing, or just hit a drive-thru and eat on the road. I was a little happy I didn't have someone with me that when asked what they wanted to eat the reply would be, "I don't care, what do you want?" Then proceed to turn down every suggestion I had. I needed to stop and get gas and decided I'd give the salty windows a good cleaning while I did. With no further planning left to do, I let my thoughts wander --until they were back at Kent.

I wished I was sitting at home watching an episode of the Golden Girls with Monica. The day had been so perfect - -Monica and I talked so freely and had no disagreements on where to go or what to do. We were not rushed for time or had any appointments to get to - -the day was ours to enjoy and I did, immensely. I called Jerry to let him know I was on my way back and the approximate time to expect me home. Zach was asking for me earlier, which made me a bit more anxious to get home.

About an hour into the drive, Monica called me to ask me something about her schedule. We talked, and talked ---

And we talked.

And if you know anything about me, you know how much I hate talking on the phone so it was quite a feat that we stayed on the phone for an entire two hours. We hung up when I was about to exit to Englewood. The day and the phone conversation is probably the most I have ever talked to Monica at one time. As we hung up, I realized how much I enjoyed Monica that day. I realized what a rare thing it was, having uninterrupted time alone with one of my children -- I wish I had more opportunities to do that with each child of mine. I was so immersed in the conversation I never did stop to eat or feel hungry despite only having had one meal that day.

As I neared home, I braced myself for the empty feeling the house was going to have, both Amanda and Monica now being back at school. Both Zach and Jerry pretended to be asleep when I walked in - -despite me pretending to be hurt and needing their assistance. They shared with me an article about Zach that was in the local paper -- he was selected Player of the Week last week. We talked for a little bit but when the conversations were done and the guys left the room, I grabbed the remote control . . . .

and I frantically searched for an episode of Golden Girls.

Monica

One of the joys and challenges in parenting three children is the uniqueness each brings to the family. I loved discovering all of the likes and dislikes of each of my newborn babies. As those babies grew, it was my joy to walk along side them in the activities and interests they each pursued. I think I know each of my children better than anyone knows them and maybe even a little better than they know themselves. I've been so attentive to who they are and who they were becoming their whole lives and all of that is emblazed in my mind. Though I do admit, as they approach their adult years, I find myself knowing less about their personal style but when it comes to the core of their personalities, I pretty much have that pegged.

Or so I thought.

Monica has always been our strong and brave child. As a young toddler, in the middle of the night she'd venture out into the darkness of our home in search of a cookie or a favorite toy. She was the only one of the three that didn't seek the comfort of Mom and Dad's bed during a storm or after a bad dream. She was such a sweet and adoring child and yet, had this rough exterior that kept most people at bay. In that oxymoron way Monica operates, she was a very loving child and very affectionate -- and yet, she kept the deepest places of heart locked up and guarded. It was a rare occasion even to see her cry.

I was less emotional taking this child off to college as I was the first because SHE was less emotional about going. In her usual way, she portrayed an armor of strength which made me feel more at ease. That's not to say, however; that I wasn't sad about her leaving. Monica has always been my partner --where I am, she is. Where I go, she goes. What I do, she does. I knew I was going to miss her presence tremendously but I worried less about her dealing with it.

The day we took Monica to Kent I woke up a bit confident with a sort of "been there, done that" attitude in my heart. Eh, we already took one daughter off to college - -this is a piece of cake! We felt more prepared in what she needed to bring and how to accomplish moving her into a 7th floor dorm room. We loaded up and we were off.

The move-in was much of what's to be expected and quite uneventful. As the day moved along though, my heart grew heavier in anticipation of that final good bye. When that time came, Monica walked us out to our van. She said good-bye to her Dad and he got into the van. She and I stood in front of our van for a long time. She would not leave. She got back into the van and said she was going back home with us. Every time I tried to say goodbye she would simply say, "No." I had to get out and pull her from our van. Again we stood there in silence and her eyes could not conceal the truth that she herself had no strength to build walls of an unwelcoming nature. Like a river, her every emotion, untainted and true, flowed freely from her expressions. It broke my heart.

As I stood there in the parking lot, it occurred to me I was receiving a very special gift. Monica, for the first time ever to me and probably the first time ever to anyone, was fully exposing her heart. As her guard was let down and all those fortresses crumbled, her heart seemed so raw to me. There she was so vulnerable and pure and I knew that I wanted to not only cherish the moment and linger it in but also to protect her and accept this honor of her fully trusting me with her soul.

And yet . . .

In those moments a mothering instinct kicked in that was far beyond me. I found myself reacting contrary to what I would have expected. There was no part of me that wanted to bring Monica back home. I wanted her to fly. I knew it was time. It was sad for me, no doubt, but it also just felt right. It took some lingering and convincing but Monica finally walked away from the van. As she headed towards her dorm I called out to her, "Flap your wings!"

I got back into the van and Jerry backed out of our parking space and we could see Monica walking away. He stopped the van and then in complete silence we just sat there watching her get further and further away - -until she disappeared back into the dorm. Jerry then slowly pulled away.

Driving away I suddenly remembered how much my children hated shots when they were younger and Monica! That child would throw an absolute fit. It usually took one nurse to hold her arms, me to hold her legs and another nurse to administer the injection. I hated doing that to her and I especially hated how pitiful she looked to me as if to say, "Mommy, why are you doing this to me?" But I knew I was doing what was good for her and though it was difficult to do at the time, it was a long lasting benefit to her health. I didn't like or enjoy it, but I did it because I loved her.

Leaving her at Kent felt somewhat like that -- having her to endure pain for a little while to reap long lasting benefits.

Its 2 months later now and mere words could not do justice to explain how much I miss Monica but in the silence of the dark nights, I hear the soft flutter of flapping wings.

And we're okay.

To My Teenagers

I do not want to be your best friend. I am your mother, the position of authority remains with me. I don't care how much you might tower over me, size or height does not equate authority. The transfer of authority from me to you will happen the first time you have to change my Depends.

The last thing I want to be in your eyes is a hypocrite so I will try not to tell you, "Do as I say, not as I do." I want to set a good example for you but be patient, I am imperfect.

"Because I said so!” now that's a cliché I might sometimes use. I will try my best to always give you an explanation but sometimes your behavior or attitude doesn't warrant me to explain myself and other times, I simply do not have the time to go into it.

Not having time for your needs does not mean they are not important to me. There is one of me against 4 other family members. Please understand and do not feel slighted when I have to take care of someone else before you.

I am not your maid, cook or chauffeur so please do not treat me as such. This is not Burger King so you can't always "have it your way". I expect you to pick up after yourself and do your part as a member of this family to keep our home safe, clean and happy.

The day you were born in blazed in my memory forever. It was the perfect culmination of God's creation in which he used two broken vessels such as myself and your father and created you and the greatest miracle of all, entrusted your life to us. I will never forget the day of your birth and because it brings me such immeasurable joy, I will tell you about it over and over again. Please do not ask me to stop doing so.

I realize you're almost an adult and you have a full grown adult sized body but when I look deep into your eyes or beyond your sassy smile, I can still see that precious baby I once held in my arms and nestled into my neck. I can't help it, no matter how old you get to be, you'll always be my baby.

When you lie to me, you are hurting yourself more than anyone else. I know how difficult telling the truth may be but when you weave a web of deceit, it will crumble the foundation of your morale character that will destroy you. Also, I can't help you when I don't know the whole truth. Do not break my trust in you.

If you ever are in trouble, no matter how terrible the situation might seem, I can help you far better than your friends can. I have the maturity, experience and resources to help you find your way out, your friends do not. Come to me before you go to them.

I would rather you have one true friend than 50 superficial friends. Popularity only lasts 4 years of high school; true friends can last a life time.

The risk of STD's and pregnancy are real as are the harmful effects of drug and alcohol use. Those are important enough reasons to abstain from premarital sexual activity and drug or alcohol use but the real reason I want you to chose not to is simply; you have been created by God, in the image of God and for God. You are a masterpiece of your Creator. Respect your body as such and do not defile His creation with such foolish sin. It will harm your body and torment your soul.

When you lose a game or competition it's probably because you and your teammates made a mistake or the other team just played better, not because they cheated or the refs cheated. When you lose, do it with dignity and learn from it and become a better player/performer because of it.

Your teachers and coaches have your best interest in mind, I doubt they lie to me about your grades or behaviors so when you get in trouble at school, please don’t try to blame them. Accept responsibility for your actions. If you tell me someone has cheated you or an injustice has been served, I will fight for your honor and if it is later revealed you were not truthful, you leave both of us looking foolish but most importantly, you harm my credibility and then when a real injustice is done, my voice may not be heard.

The world is full of mean people. Never be one of them.

The world is full of kind people. Always strive to be one of them.

The purpose of dating is for two mature individuals to eventually find the life mate God has intended for them. High school age is not the time to start looking for that person. Exclusively dating one person leads to a false sense of belonging to each other, which leads to kissing, which can lead to other things too. In your young teen years, you do not have the maturity to control those things so just remove the temptation in your life all together. You may occasionally go on dates and to dances but you will not be permitted to exclusively date one person or have a girlfriend/boyfriend. Enjoy your high school years without all that drama and when the time comes that dating is proper for your age, proceed with prayer and caution.

I reserve the right to choose your friends. You may be friends with whomever you choose however; if I see their influence on you is decaying your moral character and causing you to make bad choices in your life, I will limit the time you spend with them or even demand you sever your ties with them. This is not negotiable no matter how upset or angry that makes you, my age and experience allows me to see far deeper than you are capable of.

I want you to have the freedom to express yourself in the way you dress, music choice and other areas of personal choice however; you may not cross the line in decency or morality. If you cross that line, I will intervene.

It is not possible for me to love one of my children more than the other and everything I do is with each child's best interest in mind. You will always be equally loved by me however; you will not always be equally treated by me. Each child has their own level of responsibility and maturity at different stages in their life. What one child might have done at age 15 another child might not be ready to do until 17. It is not unjust nor is it favoritism -- it is simply weighing each circumstance with the uniqueness of each child and acting accordingly.

Though the law says you can drive at age 16, we your parents say you can drive when we feel you have earned the privilege. That's right, EARNED. It is not your birth right to take our vehicle to the road while we pay for your insurance and gas. That is earned by you demonstrating responsibility, trust, maturity and obedience to other rules set forth. The most important factor in deciding when you are able to drive is your safety. We just aren't willing to risk that.

I do not want to pressure you to be the star player, get the Varsity letter, make honor roll, be or popular among your friends or anything else however; I do want you to push yourself to the limit and employ all the gifts and talents God has graced you with. I want you to put forth your best efforts because though your father and I will be extremely proud of you, the person you will please the most is yourself.

What might seem an act of meanness to you is my sincerest efforts in protecting you.

Every time I look at you I think to myself I love you to the fullest extent that my heart is able -- and then a new day dawns and I find myself loving you even more than I did before. God keeps growing my heart bigger and deeper and every day I fall more and more madly in love with you.

But no matter how much I love you, God loves you infinitely more. Learn to lean on Him before me because I am only your mother; he is your Creator, Sustainer, Savior, & Father. Therein lies your source of significance & life with a wellspring of grace, mercy and forgiveness.


Love, Mom

Blast From The Past

This is an old story I wrote -- about 4 years ago. . . . . .


Terrible Twos vs. Tormenting Teens

I don't see what the big deal is about the Terrible Twos. Though it's only a distant memory in my past, I seemed to have emerged unscathed from the trio-ed event in my life. It is true that by age two a child gets a sense of independence with the belief that the entire universe revolves around their schedule to eat, sleep and play. Their favorite words, which they utter all day long, are emphatically stated, "No!" and "Mine!”. They begin to realize there's a whole world out there and it's theirs to discover but of course, the discovery must be met on their own terms. Mothers are in a constant battle of Terrible Twos vs. Parental Guidance. It's an exhausting adventure, at best. You get through the tantrums and trying days but there is something marvelous that gives you hope and strength to do it all the next day. When that terrible toddler is hungry, sick, scared or tired guess what she does? She calls for the comforting arms of her mommy. Just about the time you're ready to strap your toddler into a playpen and design a mesh lid to fit over the top of it, that wadding little bundle of terror climbs onto your lap and puts her chubby little arms around your neck. Who couldn't love that? Taking a quantum leap into the future, take that same sense of independence and self-centered nature, mix it in with raging hormones and peer pressure, pack it into a full grown body that has a license to drive and my friend, welcome to the world of parenting a teen. Terrible Twos? Please! That only lasts one year. With teenagers we're talking seven years. You can forget any light of hope because when that teen is hungry, sick, scared or tired, they're just ticked off because it's your fault. That's right! You and only you make their world the miserable existence it is. After all, you are the most stupid unreasonable creature on the face of the earth. Everything must be your fault! One day you are Mommy of the Year for simply bringing in a couple dozen cupcakes to a Halloween class party and the next day, you have no sense of style, your music is old fashioned and boring, everything you say or do is stupid, your expectations are unfair and unreasonable and you don't know hip language which makes you nothing more than an embarrassment in public. In the midst of raising three teens, I'm quickly learning the dos and don'ts of public behavior. Essentially, when in public, behave like you don't know me. That's what your teens want. Yes, the Terrible Twos are just the dress rehearsal for the Tormenting Teens.

Having the joy of two teenaged daughters, we have a tri-cycle of hormones bouncing off the walls in our home. It's like playing hormone bumper pool in our house. As if dealing with my own PMS isn't bad enough, now I have to be on the receiving end of my daughters' PMS swings. You would think being a woman I'd be a little sympathetic to my own child's estrogen surges but this is survival of the fittest instincts. The dominate female of the pride prevails! Cruel and heartless as it may sound, estrogen somehow overtakes even motherly instincts. Forget that smoke detector we have installed on each level of the house, I need an estrogen detector at my house!

Much like my alarm clock, my Estrogen Detector (ED) will go off each morning giving me the estrogen levels of the day. When pollen hits a certain level there are warnings for those afflicted with allergies to stay indoors. My ED will warn me when it's unsafe to remain in the home. When the estrogen levels are light, my ED will sound a bell detecting some slight levels of estrogen in the house. With this, I'll causally get up and go through my morning routine as usual. As levels increase, the ED will be more alarming like the Lost in Space robot giving repetitious signals, "Warning, Warning...estrogen is peaking!” At this yellow light alarm, I'll proceed with caution making sure I keep my distance, shut my mouth, don't make eye contact and move out swiftly. The last and final warning will be the tornado, fire alarm, burglar alarm, Cuban missile crisis and weapons of mass destruction all-in-one alarm. The ED will say, "WARNING! WARNING! HIGH LEVELS OF ESTROGEN DETECTED IN THE HOME. RUN FOR COVER! GET OUT! EVERY WOMAN FOR HERSELF! TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE! DO NOT STOP FOR THE FAMILY PHOTO ALBUMS! DO NOT PASS GO! DO NOT COLLECT $200! SAVE YOURSELF!" With this high leveled warning, I'd jump out of bed, grab my clothes and emergency toiletry bag and make a mad dash out of the house before any contact is made with the estrogen spewing teens. For extra protection, I'll be armed with my Wonder Woman estrogen deflector wrist bands. These golden wonders work like Wonder Woman's bullet bands. As I make my mad dash out of the house, I can raise my arms to block any estrogen attacks such as, "This is so unfair, you are so mean, I need $50, where are you going? (as if my going to work in the morning is a sudden shock to the girls), I have nothing to wear, my hair is so dumb....Mom! I need to go shopping, why can't I have my own car? Why are you looking at me? Stop looking at me................"

After spending eight long hours at work, I will eventually have to come home. Knowing the dangerous estrogen will probably still be present, I've come up with a solution for reentry. NASA spent 4 billion dollars on some rocket scientist invention for protecting the Apollo passengers from the heat of reentering the atmosphere. I've come up with my own $2.48 protective solution. As if to wave the proverbial white flag, I ease the door to a slight opening and wave a 99 cent bottle of nail polish and $1.49 lip gloss. At this Monica, my youngest teen, grabs the loot and scurries to her den like a mouse that has won the cheese without being caught in the trap. In this instance, the trap is conversation with Mom. With that potential Claymore mine disarmed, I then wave a Miami application through the tiny opening in the door. My oldest teen, Amanda, snatches her loot and now both teens are deep into their teenaged fortresses. The bait has worked. I just bought myself two hours of estrogen free peace and quiet.

After the two hours of solitude, Amanda emerges from her den. I raise my arms to engage my Wonder Woman deflectors only to realize she's just passing through on her way to the computer. She gets online to research the average ACT/SAT scores of high school students accepted into Miami. She then gets offline to call her high school counselor (she has her on speed dial) to inform her that she needs to get into French IV. "But Amanda," her counselor explains, "you are only a junior and we can't get your senior schedule together yet." I know," Amanda states as she tries to remain clam, "but I thought I didn't want to take French for four years but now I see most Miami students have four years of a foreign language and I thought if I plan ahead, I won't miss the opportunity to get into French IV. I need to be in French IV. I have to be in French IV. PLEASE GET ME A RESERVED SEAT IN FRENCH IV!" Poor woman, I think to myself about the counselor, she has no idea the estrogen levels have peaked for the month! The counselor then mumbles something to Amanda about a restraining order and unlisted phone number. Confused by her own PMS status, Amanda retreats to Miami website for some more in depth research. Ah, I bought another hour of solitude. Meanwhile, back in the Gloss & Shimmers of Sweetness Den, Monica is trying to determine if her new shade of nail polish and lip gloss looks better applied in stripes, polka dots or jut plain. She's arranged every piece of clothing she owns to match the new shades but it was an easy task to accomplish as all she had to do was sit on the floor, the place where most of her clothing gathers and lives. As I tip toe around my own home, I hear my ED dwindle down to a mere hum noting it's once again safe to resume a "normal" life. At this, my girls emerge from their dens. Monica proudly displays her painted nails saying, "Thanks for the nail polish, Mom. I like the sparkles." Amanda comes to me with a printed out form from the Miami website saying, "Mom, what do you think about this?" I know it's just the quiet before the next storm but I savor the moment just like I did when that terrible two toddler climbed onto my lap with her chubby little arms around my neck saying, "I wuv you Mommy!"

As I walk out of the room I hear the girls say, "Hey Mom, what's up with those gold bracelets? You aren't going to wear those in public, are you?"

Another Toy Story

When somebody loved me . . . . . . .

I always enjoyed each stage of development my children were in and with three kids so close in age, they were all practically right at the same stages at the same time. But quite often, I couldn't wait for the next stage, the next big thing! I couldn't wait for them to walk, talk, potty train, go to school -- Though enjoying my children right where they were at, I anticipated the next stage like a child on Christmas Eve night awaiting Santa's arrival.

No sooner than finding myself in a new stage with my children, I mourned for the child that was left behind. Oh how I loved my toddler walking around the house discovering himself and his world but how I missed that tiny little baby that used to be content to just let me hold him. I still do that sometimes. Now the mother of three teenagers, I still miss my babies and toddlers and small children. I mostly miss their wonderment and how they soaked up life like a sponge. Don't get me wrong, I love these teenagers and this stage in life too. I love how they are independent (sometimes). I love to see them makes choices for themselves. I even love how confused they can be at times because it's all part of this age. I can't help it though, there are times I wish I can step back 5 or 10 years if just for a day. Just a few nights ago, it happened. I got that chance.

It could not have been planned because chance was the only factor of success in this night. It evolved from boredom, mostly, and a sense of nostalgia that somehow swept us up. It was the night I got to play dolls with my 17 year old daughter and 15 year old son. It was a sweet mix of the past and present -- of all things I love about being a Mom.

I happened to stumble into Monica's room and we were talking and making plans for the new decor for her room. I looked under her bed, pulling out a box that contained doll clothes. She has an Addy doll and a modern doll from American Girl. With each article of clothing I pulled out of the box, a long forgotten memory was attached to it. Monica would recall a time or emotion when she played with her dolls; many of those memories involving Amanda too. I then asked Monica to get Addy out and I was very saddened to see this much neglected doll. Though she showed signs of being a once beloved toy, like her hair that Monica had braided, it was clear she was just a token of a life-stage long gone, sadly forgotten. Her hair had a white coating of dust and I know it sounds crazy and it's not really true but it was almost as if I could hear Addy saying to Monica, "Where have you been, Friend?"

Reminiscing with Addy made us think about Molly, Amanda's American Girl Doll, so we wandered into Amanda's room to find Molly. Oh poor Molly! Not only had she been sorely neglected, she was naked! A coldness ran down my spine realizing the cold lonely nights poor Molly had to endure over the past several years. Knowing Amanda likes comfort in her clothing, I gently cared for Molly and dressed her in pajamas, complete with robe and slippers. Zach, wondering what Monica and I were up to in Amanda's room, came into the room and strolled with Monica and I down a lane of memories of when the girls played with their dolls.

While still enjoying those pre-adult teenagers, I was able to step back into their childhood years when dolls were beloved, soldiers were green and plastic and Mom was the best playmate of all. Having 18 years of being a Mom, I've learned to live in each moment and taste each day because what's on tomorrow's platter will be ever changing, ever growing and yesterday will be ever gone. I still find moments when I try to wonder myself into the future of having married children and glorious grandchildren. But mostly, I try to keep my feet on the ground, focused on today -- in this very present stage of teenagers, high school and college.

. . . . and I knew that she loved me.

When She Loved Me (Jesse's Song)
when somebody loved me, everything was beautiful, every hour we spent together, lives within my heart. and when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears and when she was happy, so was I, when she loved me. through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all. just she and I together, like it was meant to be. and when she was lonely, I was there to comfort her. and I knew that she loved me. so the years went by, I stayed the same. and she began to drift away, I was left alone. still I waited for the day, when shed say I will always love you. lonely and forgotten, never thought shed look my way, she smiled at me and held me, just like she used to do, like she loved me, when she loved me. when somebody loved me, everything was beautiful, every hour we spent together, lives within my heart. when she loved me.

Clayton Ink

In 1997 we built a home in Clayton, Ohio. My husband was on active duty with the Army stationed at the University of Dayton and we lived on base housing at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Nearing his military retirement, we decided to build a home and stay in the area.

What attracted us to the Clayton area was the quaint country living. I would have to give up the convenience of near-by shopping but I supposed the trade off was worth it. We loved the area, schools, neighborhood -- just everything. We hoped it would remain much the same but to our disappointment, it has not.

We still love where we live, our community, but now we have a Wal-mart & YMCA within a stones throw of us. Our 4-way stop-sign intersection is now a 4 lane highway with a traffic light! Right across the street from us they are building a new Clayton community center with shopping, businesses, housing and parks. We are smack dab right in the center of downtown now! So there's so much building constantly going on around us. Every week it's almost like driving through a new town. Monica, my middle child, seemed very disinterested in all of this progress. She's never commented on anything new nor seemed impressed with the new businesses and adventures all this growth has brought to our area . . . . until now.

The other day Monica and I were driving down Main Street and she noticed a new business moving into an existing building. I had not noticed it as I've just become immune to noticing every small change.

"Do you think they do body piercings too?", Monica asked me.

Huh, what? I'm so confused! Body piercings? What is she talking about? So, I ask her.

"The new tattoo place. Looks kind of small, don't you think?"

Huh, what? I'm so confused! Tattoo place? What is she talking about? So, I ask her.

"Didn't you see it? We just passed it. It's a new tattoo place."

I didn't engage too deeply into the conversation and gave a short answer and quickly changed the subject. But then a few days later we passed the same place.

"I wonder what they do inside there I mean, it looks rather small, don't you think?"

Huh, what? I'm so confused! What is she talking about? So, I ask her.

"The tattoo place, Mom. It looks too small to really do anything in there. Do you think you can get piercings done there too? I mean, don't most tattoo places do piercings too? Would it be safe? I imagine if they can do a tattoo they can pierce too. I don't know. I think if I wanted to get something pierced I'd go to a doctor's office. . . "

I'm hearing her but I'm still confused, "Monica, are you anticipating a new piercing or tattoo? What is this sudden interest in this place?"

"No, I don't want anything pierced or tattooed but I'm just wondering what they do there -- it looks so small and I wonder like, do they get a license or how do you know they are safe or good?"

So my thoughts wonder off to all the growth in our community over the past 5 years. We watched them build a brand new YMCA practically across the street from us. Not only did they put in a Wal-mart, it was a huge controversy in our neighborhood and petitions were EVERYWHERE against the retail conglomerate moving in. It was a very big deal for several years but, never no peep out of Monica. We have seen restaurants and stores and strip malls galore and still, no wonder or interest out of Monica. But now this -- a tattoo parlor has completely captured her attention. The curiosity is killing her!

Now I have no interest at all in when this place opens up for business but I think I need to look into it. On their opening day I will bring them a bouquet of flowers wishing them great success. I'll also bring them a nice glossy 8x10 picture of Monica and say, "If this girl comes in for any services what-so-ever, please call me as I'm certain her 18 year old ID will be fake."

Then again, it's only 13 short months until she really is 18 so in addition to a nice 8x10 glossy print of Monica, I might take in a nice 8x10 glossy print of Jerry (in a muscle T) and say, "This man would be very unhappy if his daughter (the former 8x10 glossy print) got ANYTHING pierced or tattooed!" Now that should put an end to that.

Oh by the way cousins, Courtney and Brittany, thanks for opening THIS door. I can hear Monica now, "But Courtney and Brittany did it."

"Yes", I will have to explain, "they got tiny little initials on their ankle for something meaningful -- not 4 inch letters across the small of their back saying, 'HOLLA-BACK if you think I'm cute!'. There is a big difference!"

Daughters and Boys and Silver-Back Gorillas

Okay so it was bound to happen one day. Our daughters were going to want to start dating and worse yet, a boy was going to take a liking to our daughter.

And it did.

Having 17 and 16 year old daughters, the past few years have not been without crushes and infatuation but nothing along the lines of "dating seriously" or real boyfriends. There was this one young man, Ethan, that had a crush on Monica. He even showered her with her favorite sweets for Valentines Day one year but this young man was terrified of Jerry and so that relationship didn't last very long. The poor lad was even too afraid to say anything when he called the house and Jerry or I would answer the phone. He would just hang up and I'd think, "Okay Ethan, we have CALLER ID!"

But the girls never really made it any easier on themselves. They would tell would-be suitors, "My Dad will pretty much kill you if you ever come over." The girls themselves were not even certain if the "no dating until your 25" rule was real or a joke but they never questioned it for fear it might actually be true.

Tyler. Senior. Boy Scout. Drummer. Northmont Drumline. Star Wars Fanatic. Monica admirer. Poor unsuspecting soul.

Tyler wants to take Monica to Homecoming so we tell Monica he must come over and ask our permission to take her to the dance and we will lay down the rules. I couldn't help but think of a line in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" when Ian was converting to Greek Orthodox in order to marry Toula and during his baptism Toula thinks, "Any second now he's gonna look at me and say, "You're so not worth this."

Boy Scouts are brave souls. Tyler agrees to come over. At least Amanda helped put his mind at ease. Just before coming to our house Amanda and Tyler were IMing on the computer and Tyler asks Amanda for any advice and she says, "Well it really doesn't matter because my Dad pretty much doesn't like you so nothing is going to help."

Tyler has a style all his own. Sometimes his hair is spiked. Sometimes his clothes look raggy (okay, most times) and sometimes he sports a Star Wars lunch box but Tyler is who he is and most importantly, he's got the attention of our daughter.

Tyler comes over to talk to us and he pretty much comes under the pretense that Jerry and I think he's wretched soul. He comes in and sits down on the couch. Jerry is engaged in channel surfing and there's some small talk exchanged about sports, TV, etc.

I wish I had the entire visit on video because it's something I'd like to watch again and again. I rather enjoyed myself except for the times when I was feeling awful for Tyler. He sat in the corner of the couch pretty much being grilled by Jerry and I -- but mostly Jerry. I tried with all my might to be serious and strong but I couldn't help it, I mostly laughed because Jerry was trying to be so tough and mean. I will give you a few excerpts from our conversation.

In the middle of the conversation Jerry looks down and notices Tyler's worn out torn shoes (and mind you, he chooses to wear these) and abruptly says, "Son, do you get an allowance?" to which Tyler responds, "No Sir but I mow lawns." Pointing down to Tyler's shoes Jerry says, "Then you might want to see if you can pick up a few more lawns to mow and invest in a new pair of shoes."

But my favorite of the night was when Jerry asked Tyler if he knew anything about a Silver-back gorilla. Then he proceeds to tell him, "Well, a Silver-back is one of the strongest animals on the earth. He could snap you in half like a twig. So just think of me as a Silver-back Gorilla, you got me son?"

Alls well that ends well. Tyler left not only with his life but all his limbs in tact too. He got Jerry's permission to take Monica to Homecoming and he's even allowed to come over sometimes to visit with Monica as long as Jerry or I are there. And then Jerry added, "but the next time you come over you might want to check those shoes at the door."

Monica and Tyler moved over to the dining table to enjoy some chocolate cookies I made for them. I asked Tyler, "Have you ever had to go through anything like this before to take a girl to a dance or date her?" He told me no then I asked, "Well, is Monica worth it?" He looked over at her and smiled and said, "Yes, she is."

Right Answer.