Ready for New Years

I try my very best to be a bright side kind of person...there is always a silver lining, and all that jazz.  I often see more good than bad.  Some find it annoying.  Some find it refreshing.  I may have mentioned before that overall I am from a clan of "bright-siders", I jokingly say it is genetic.  Most of us in our family can find a bright spot, or word spin on just about anything to make it sound positive. 

Well let me just tell you, that the bright spots in 2012 were kind of limited.  The brightest was getting to see my oldest son make a huge step and become a Christian, and witness his first communion and his baptism.  That is the brightest by far.  Nothing can top that.  The next brightest spot for me for 2012 will happen at 11:59 tonight...that's right, it will be done.

I have mentioned before that the entire month of September sucks.  I have written before about how the beast took not only my Dad, but my Grand dad, and an Uncle and the other was fighting his own battle.  He sadly lost that battle December 12.  But that story will be told another day.

It has become comedic somewhat.  My mother is known for her disdain of the phrase "It sucks" to the point of scolding all that use it.  My little family of bright siders agree on one thing whole heartedly and voice regularly...2012 SUCKED.  All of us are happy to see it go, and are praying as sincerely as we know how that this will be the roughest year we have to endure for, well forever. 

My heart will struggle facing another year like this, my strength will muster through if that happens again, my sanity will be a victim to circumstance if we endure this suckage again.

I will bring in the new year in my home, more than likely sound asleep, and wake up to start a new day, a new year and hopefully a new chapter on life that includes health and happiness and good news in abundance.

First call of the year

Yesterday I got a phone call that showed up on my caller ID as the boy's school. In years past I always dreaded when the school called because it meant most likely that a little fella wasn't feeling well.  I was also a little afraid that Thing 1 had possibly had an allergic reaction-ya know the whole peanut allergy thing.  Well now that Thing 2 has started school I have an entirely different fear.  I am afraid they are calling because he is in trouble. 

I realize that as a mom that is a horrible thing to think much less say out loud.  I know my child.  My child is a sweet compassionate child who often thinks of others first, and truly has a kind heart.  With that being said, my child is stubborn, hard headed (and no those are not the same things), and will hold a grudge for eternity.  He gets it honest, I blame genetics. The child can't help it.  But given all of his traits I truly expected the call yesterday to be his teacher saying, "Do you know what your kid did!!" 

Thankfully it wasn't that at all.  She called to say that he had started crying in class after he put something up because his chest was hurting.  The child had no fever, no cough no nothing other than his chest was hurting.  She said that it scared her because he never cries, and never complains.  Which I am thankful that. 

So the first call of the year was because a little-well not so little fella-moved wrong putting something up. That doesn't mean that I won't cringe every time the phone shows the school on caller ID but it does make me feel better that even 6 weeks into school his teacher still says he is such a good boy :).

The power of a song

Music is a huge thing in my house.  More so with Thing 1 and I than Thing 2 and Hubs.  Thing 1 and I will sing loudly when songs we really like come on the radio.  This basically means that we sing loud...a lot.  His taste is very much similar to mine, we like good beats, and catchy words.  We are primarily country fans but appreciate all types of music.  I have been noticing more and more lately that some songs really do play when you need to hear them. 

I recently bought a CD I have been wanting to get.  It's Lee Brice's new one.  He has a song on there called "Life Off My Years"  The key lyrics that are in the song are "What's the use of life if you don't live it? You sip your water I'll drink my beer? Yeah, I'll take years off my life before I'll take life off my years."

That hits ya kinda hard doesn't it? Imagine hearing while your recovering from a life lost too soon!  How about this one..."Til my last day, Til my last breath, Of everyone that can, I can love you the best
Til my last day, I'll be lovin' you, All the way up, til they lay me down, Six feet under, the cold hard ground Til my last day, I'll be lovin' you"  That little reminder is brought to you by Justin Moore.  I tend to hear that one more when I am home with the kids and they are in bed and Hubs is at work and we are on one of our stretches of not really seeing each other.  It's a nice reminder that when it's real and right, that is how it should be.

Those are just a few songs that tend to get turned up when they are on. It doesn't matter if your angry, happy, sad, unsure, or what.  A song can come on and it will match you perfectly.  Who knew something as simple as a few note and words played on the radio could make such an impact.

Oh Alarm clock

I am not a morning person, never have been, and don't see that changing in the very near future.  However, when your a mom, you have to get it in go gear int he mornings.  You don't really have a choice.  I have given you a brief example of our mornings, and how we look somewhat akin to headless chickens in the mornings.  Well let me just throw this one out there for you.  This mom flew out of bed yelling some not so ladylike works at 739 this morning.  Yes ladies and gentleman you read that correctly.  So as I am in mid leap to the bathroom, Thing 1 comes out of his bedroom, "Mama is it time to get dressed?"  I grab their clothes, cause thank heavens i was smart enough to lay them out the night before, throw them at them and yell, get dressed, overslept car leaves in 5.  So i manage to grab frozen waffles out of the freezer, throw them in the microwave (Don't judge me, at least i fed the kids) run to the bathroom, run back to the dryer to get my clothes-mine were planned just not laid out, and somehow manage to get the lot of us out of the door by 747.  Teeth were brushed, shoes were on, hair was fixed (mine that is) and clothes matched.  My kids walked into their school at 751.  We would have been there sooner but I had to dole out snack money and such. 

I do not like starting mornings off that way.  More specifically I do not like starting off Monday mornings that.  Hopefully the day turns around and it is smooth sailing from here.  A girl can dream right.

Hello soap box

Please bear with me I need to vent.  I avoid my soap box at all cost, doing the best I can to be non-coconfrontational and all that mess but this morning I read an article that just really pissed me off.  It was an article on how a teacher took a kids PB&J sandwich, helped him get another lunch and sent a note home to the parents to please don't send a PB&J again.  Why did she take the sandwich you may ask (or you read the article and know why).  She had a student in her class with a sever peanut allergy.  What is my take on the situation?  KUDOS TEACHER!!!!!  However, as you can imagine in today's society, this has sparked a whirlwind discussion and even a Facebook page,  on how it's just not right. 

For those of you reading that don't personally know me, may wonder why this is such a touchy subject with me.  Well it is super simple.  Thing 1 has a sever potentially life threatening peanut allergy.  To the extent that none of us eat peanut butter, or peanuts because of fear of cross contamination. 

Thankfully his school is peanut free.  However other kids bring things in from home such as PB&J sandwiches.  Thing 1 can not be around it, because of the above mentioned reason.  What does he do on days this happens...he has to eat in the office.  While I am extremely thankful for the fact that his school has a plan in place, it sucks that he can't eat with his best friend on those days.  I will say though that he hasn't had to eat in the office much in the last two years.  We have done our best to educate the teachers and they in turn talk to the students and make it clear that Thing 1 is more important than peanut butter sandwiches.

For some reason peanut allergies spark controversy very easily.  More than any other allergy that I know of.  I don't know if because parents are more diligent in making others aware or if it just becoming more common place.  But this allergy is on the rise and let me just tell you, it is scary. 

It doesn't make a lot of sense to me for it to even be an issue.  Why put a child at risk ?  Does a parent not have enough to stress about with kids in school?  Why add to that stress worrying about having to rush to the hospital because of an allergic reaction? 

Let me just say to all the non-allergy folks.  Count your blessings.  Thank your lucky stars.  The fear always sits in the back of my mind that if something happens and my child comes in contact with peanuts; if things are not done exactly how they should be my son will die.  No I am not being dramatic or overly cautious.  I am being real.  Something as simple as a tiny spot of peanut butter on the edge of a table could potentially kill my child.  Is that something that you would want to risk and be the person that caused a child to lose his life and a parent to have to grieve the lose of a child just because you don't want to be bothered with worrying about what to pack your kid for lunch.

Instead of trying to cast the child out of the lunch room like a leper, why not step back and think for just a minute.  Is a stupid sandwich really more important than a child's life?

There really is a reason

I have always thought there was a reason that I don't have little girls.  The good Lord above knew when he was picking out what kind of kids I would have, that I did not need a girl.  Let me just give you  a brief example of mornings in my house-brace yourself it gets kinda crazy.

I-the mom-wakes up at 530, turns off alarm rolls over, rolls back over at 6, turns off alarm, rolls back over to turn alarm off at 630, finally leaps out of bed at 705-you can prett much bet there is an ugly word or 15 said because we have to be at school in 40 minutes.  Rush to the bathroom, yell at kids to get up as you stumble by their door.  Rush back to bedroom to get dressed, yell at kids again-kids actually roll over this time.  After getting dressed go back to kids room yell again that if they don't get up, I will wake their daddy up.  Thing 2 gets up, Thing 1 rolls over and groans.  Go brush teeth, tell Thing 1 he will be going to school naked if he doesn't get up.  Look at clock, it says 725.  Hustle Thing 2 up just a smidge, so that he is totally ready to go at 740.  Look at clock, it says 735, yell at Thing 1 again (he is still not dressed, and sitting on the edge of the bed).  Finally get Thing 1 moving, and he is dressed, brushed, and ready to walk out the door at 745.  Load up the car, get the kids to school by 747 (yes we are that close to the school thankfully).  Drop the kids off, then finally go get coffee. 

See, I told you!  Could you imagine having to do a little girls hair in amongst all that chaos.  All I can say is THANK HEAVENS FOR LITTLE BOYS.

The measure of a man

I mentioned in my last post that my trip up the mountain was most likely the last time I would see my uncle alive.  Well I was correct.  He passed peacefully in his sleep the first Tuesday after Labor Day.  Ironically, that was the exact same day of the week that my father passed away 3 years ago. 

We ventured back up the mountain this weekend to carry out my uncles wishes.  He wanted to celebrate his life.  He wanted all of his friends and family that could to gather and basically hang out.  Well, that is exactly what we did.  There was a large crowd gathered with tons of food, drinks, laughs and even a few tears. 

While this was going on it got me to thinking.  You can really measure a man (or woman for that fact) and how they lived by how they are remembered when they pass away.  I remember 3 years ago (to this very date) when my father left us, just how many people came out to remember him.  Even though I don't remember half the ones that came by, I do remember that there was A LOT of them.  That was a huge comfort to us.  Knowing that he had touched so many people throughout his life.  The same thing can be said about yesterday.  So many people gathered to remember the man and the memories. 

The people that were here ranged from lawyers, to authors, to an medal winning Olympic athlete.  There were also vets, photographers, and run of the mill folks.  Needless to say he was a people person and loved by many and will be missed greatly by this group of people. 

The measure of the man is not only in how he lived by how he is remembered when he is gone.

Things that matter

I am fairly certain I have mentioned before just how important family is to me.  My husband and my children are the center of my world.  The rest of my family, both those that are here and those that have gone on, are this amazing support system through the good and the bad.  We are the family that pretty much knows everything going on with the others just because, well we are that close.

I dedicated an entire post-the last one I wrote- on the 3 men that have been in my life longer than anyone other than my own mother, who faught a long hard battle with the monster.  I also mentioned that my last trip up the mountain to see my uncle would most likely be the last time I ever saw him.  I am beyond saddened to admit I was correct.  He passed away early Tuesday morning.  Thankfully he had a peaceful passing and none of his family had to watch him struggle.  This was his one wish.

With his passing comes a reminder of just how precious life is and the things that matter.  It truly doesn't matter what house you live in, what job you have, what truck you drive.  The things that really matter are what kind of person you are-on the inside not just what everyone sees but deep down; your family, and the memories. 

While riding to town to meet Hubs for supper last night Thing 2 says he is going to miss his uncle (actually great uncle but we just called him uncle).  Thing 1 in his wisdom says "Chunk let's not focus on him being gone, but focus on all the memories we have and the fun we had".  Pretty dang smart for an 8 year old don't ya think. 

While visiting this past weekend we got to watch some old home movies.  I know to some people this maybe cringe worthy.  Not this girl.  We had such a good time watching these movies and strolling down memory lane.  As most of the grandkids and great grandkids gather we get to hear all of these stories about when our parents were younger.  To me that is the most precious thing.  It is what holds us together.  It is what links the prior generations to the new ones.  Those memories are more valueable than gold. 

We will gather together Friday evening for a memorial service, or as my uncle wanted it, an informal gathering with friends and family.  I am looking forward to it.  I hate the reason we are having to get together, but really what better way to celebrate a life than remembering how well they lived it. 

Let's be honest, September Sucks---Be warned this is a little long

I am not a person to air dirty laundry or things along those lines.  I pride myself on holding stuff close to vest, except where those closest to me are concerned then I am an open book including table of contents, and appendix.  So I briefly shall explain why September for all intents and purposes sucks royally. 

I am a person who trust whole heartedly until given a reason not to, once a reason is presented, I am done.  I love the same way.  If you are "in my circle" you are in and there is nothing within my power I wouldn't do for anyone "in my circle".  I get it honest, it's genetic.  Once your in, your in for life. 

When I was growing up there was a man in my life that was without a doubt one of the greatest men the good Lord above put on this earth.  I lovingly called him Papaw-I named him seeing as how I was the lucky one being the first grandkid.  Papaw called me Monkey as long as I could remember.  The man was small man by measure but in my eyes he was ten feet tall and bullet proof and had a green thumb that would make Martha Stewart seethe with jealousy.  Every summer until I was 16 I spent the week of July 4th with him, just us, till he remarried and the other grandkids got potty trained (Papaw's rule you had to be able to go by yourself, to go by yourself).  Once some of the grandsons were able to go on the journey with us.  The only trip the two oldest and two youngest (at the time) made together has been talked about for the last 16 years.  There is a picture on facebook that will give you an idea of the way the trip went.  But I digress.  Papaw was a truck driver, who never failed to make me car sick in his little car but made his big rig ride like a Caddy.  This little giant managed to survive and aneursym, only losing his sense of smell.  Ironically enough he only liked one type of body was...Country apple from Bath and Body works, and the man knew the difference.  However he was diagnosed with colon cancer.  We watched this man who set the standard for which I measured men, turn into a man who couldnt beat the monster that took control of his body.  He passed away in September 1999.

Then came September 2009.  After an 18 month rollercoaster with as many ups as downs, I had to call my older siblings and say, "you need to get here, you need to get here now."  In the days that followed, there were some many laughs and tears.  I can't tell you the number of times I said prayers to just let it be peaceful.  That Saturday night, I had to curl up beside my daddy and tell him that it was ok, that we would be ok and he didn't have to hang on just for us.  I can not begin to tell you how bad it hurt, and how it felt like such a huge lie.  I also had to curl up beside this man who loved his grandchildren and children as much as he loved life itself, and tell him how much I apprecited him being there when I needed him and how much I loved him.  We had him surrounded by his grandkids, who would wonder in and out saying how much they loved their Poppa.  September 8 was the last day of the battle.  The monster won again.  That made the second time, a man that I considered larger than life who had to face the giant.

On to March 2012.  I found out one night while at my mom's for supper that her youngest brother was having some stomach issues.  Immediately we were worried, though being a family of bright siders we didn't show it.  As test were run, we still saw the bright side.  Then the day came, the news came.  It's cancer, stomach cancer.  He was 42 at the time, with a daughter getting ready to graduate college, and one in elementary school, and a step-son getting ready to graduate high school, and start college, and another step-son who was newly engaged.  Yes, you can imagine how many times, why him was uttered.  Shortly after his diagnoses, his brother was diagnosed with mutliple myolomia.  While younger brother was given a promising outlook, older brother's wasn't looking so bright.  Some how fate decided to pull the ole switcheroo.  The beginning of August brought about a long stay in the hospital for younger brother.  Well last Friday, I get a phone call I had once had to make.  Get here and get here quick.  The doctors said two weeks to two months.  Now anyone that has ever had to hear those words knows that it is like a ton of cinderblocks are dropped onto you from a crane 400 feet in the air.  Thankfully hubs was able to load up and go with the boys and I.  We head out Friday, getting there late Friday night, and go to the hospital Saturday morning.  Walking into that room, I saw a man who I will always remember as being a cowboy in the true sense of the word.  I saw a man who once served his country in the Army.  I also saw a man who was enjoying the friends and family there to spend what could be his last days with him, he laughed, and smiled, and told story after story.  I also saw a man that the monster who had taken my two first true heros was doing it's very best to take a third.  It was slowly winning.  After a good visit over the weekend, I got to spend a few minutes just us.  I told him how much I loved him and how much I appreciated the fact that even though we didn't see or talk to each other everyday, I always knew he was a phone call away.  No matter the problem, how big or small, I knew he was there.   

So as much as it hurts already, the Monster is going to win again.  It will win again in September.  September will forever be the most dreaded month of the year.  We are still holding on to youngest brother, and he is still fighting as much as he can.  Sadly the harder he fights, the stronger the monster gets. 

We will trek up the mountain to visit with the family tomorrow.  I realize there is an entirely to strong possiblity that after this weekend I may never see him again.  I have full intentions to tell him again just how much I love him, and how much I am gonna miss him, but will have to say the words all over again, we are gonna be ok.

The monster has apparently developed a liking of my family and I wished it would leave us the hell alone.

 

The things we do for our children

Thing 1 recently turned 8.  Yep we are officially half way to driving!!!!!  For his birthday, since he is rocking a mohawk this summer, he along with his daddy's help, has sported a colored mohawk most of the summer.  It has been orange, and neon green and blue.  For his birthday, because it is July 3, he wanted to color his mohawk Red, White and Blue in honor of Independence Day.  So, I bite the bullet and took him to an actually beauty shop and let her dye my boys' hair.  I was frightened at first, one simply for taking an 8 year old and 5 year old to the beauty shop.  Secondly, I was letting her dye my sons' hair that in and of itself is scary.  So she starts by bleaching, yep bleaching Thing 1's hair.  I made up my mind at that point there was NO TURNING BACK, so I might as well roll with it. 

I have been shocked at the number of comments on the kids hair.  Most specifically from older people.  You know the ones you expect to freak out at the sight of two little boys with tri-colored hair.   They kids are happy with it and that is what matters most.  That and the fact that it is temporary style, school starts in a few weeks and the mohawk will be gone.

Don't look for trouble

After 31 years I have finally learned, don't look for trouble, or stress or worries or any other word that could fill in that blank.  It will find you eventually.  No matter how much you try, life isn't perfect. There are ups and downs and sometimes some really way downs.  That happens enough on its own.  I have finally learned that it is better to just roll with the punches and enjoy the drama/stress/fill in the blank times when you get them because Lordy knows they don't last long enough before something rolls in.

I have also learned that if you limit the people in your life that are what I affectionatly call "stink stirrers" it takes a lot of stress/drama/fill in the blank off of you.

I realize that this is something that I should have learned a long time ago.  Let's face it that is a lesson that much like touching the stove to learn it's hot, you must learn on your own and in it's own time.

That time of year again

It is officially summer.  Kids are out of school, sports are over for the time being, and vacation time has come and gone.  We struck out two Saturdays ago and headed to the beach for a week.  We go to the Outer Banks of North Carolina every year for our vacation.  We rent a house and just enjoy family time together as well as plenty of sand, sun, and surf.  It always goes by way to fast, way to fast for the prep work that goes into it.  However this year something remarkable happened.  Thing 1 began mentioning trips past.  He would say, "Mama, remember when we went here and did this?" or "Daddy remember going and doing this?"  It hit me so hard that all the hopes I had of making memories with my two little fellas is actually working!!! They are remembering trips we make together and stuff we do together.  It made all of the chaos totally worth it. 

:So for now we have finished up the big beach trip but will be making several little ones to "Grandma Cathy's" and I am just as excited about those as I am the big one.  It's more memories to be made, and more sun to soak up. 

Too many news crews in too small of a town.

One thing I have always loved about where I live is that you never see it on the news.  The only reasons it would be there is 1) the weather 2) the President comes to town.  Both of which are true stories.  We were on the news after the blizzard of 2000 talking about preparing for such an event, and President Bill Clinton came to visit the local hospital while he was in office.  It is a small county. Our unemployment rate is on the rise,  Population is too.  Cause lets face it, folks can't afford to do anything else, so they stay home and make more people.

However in the last 2 months, we have been inundated with news crews.  Between one town clearing out their police department without reason, and now a shooting in another town. 

These are things you see on the news and think to yourself, that is a shame, or that's terrible.  However it's not the things you want to see associated with your community.  Times are difficult now, and don't appear to be getting any better.  People are broke, out of work, and desperate for any glimpse of hope.  Most people anyway.  Some people take desperate actions.  Leaving others hurting, and confused.

All these actions have lead to spot light being placed on a community known for peaches, and pottery.  I think I prefer my quiet little town just to be known for weather and a presidential visit.