In the Name of Forced Family Traditions...

I have these bowls (and if that's not an attention grabber, I don't know what is). I call them the "Grammie Bowls". I don't call them that because they belonged to my grandmother - who I called Grammie. I call them that because they remind me of her. As soon as I saw them I had to have them. This picture doesn't even do them justice. Yes, I'm that excited about my bowls.
Anyway, when I bought them, I immediately called them the Grammie Bowls which left my daughters a little confused, knowing they never belonged to the woman they knew as Grammie. I had to explain to them that when I'm dead - after years of their kids calling me Grammie - and they're baking with their daughters, they'll use these bowls and say, "Oh look...these were Grammie's favorite bowls." And if they have a little chip on them, well they'll be just that much more charming, won't they? In my mind, that's just the sweetest of memories. Rolling their eyes, my girls aren't exactly catching the vision. Brats. But others have. Sometimes when I'm serving chips in them when I have people over, someone might randomly say, "It's the Grammie Bowls!"
They know.

On a side note, I joined this group of women called Operation Baking GALS (GALS standing for Give A Little Support). It started online and over 100 women bake cookies once a month and send them to the troops in Iraq; sharing a little bit of homemade love to those who so deserve it. I'm honored to be part of it. If anyone out there loves to bake and feels like joining, follow that link. :)

So I set out yesterday to bake three different kinds of cookies. I have been told that I make the best oatmeal cookies this side of, well...the moon. So off I go, baking away, when what do I notice? There's a crack in one of the Grammie Bowls!! I turn it over to see if it has cracked all the way through, and it has! I'm pretty much beside myself at this point, filling the bowl with water to see if the crack is going to leak. Luckily it doesn't, but I still am overwhelmed by the tragedy. I hear my oldest daughter come in the house, walk right by the kitchen without stopping in to talk to me, and then head upstairs to her room. By the time I'm over the temporarily paralyzing trauma of finding the crack, I stomp up to my daughters room. She's trying to take a nap and doesn't even open her eyes when I walk in. How can she sleep at a time like this?! My part of the following converasation was in a voice that I'm pretty sure only dogs could hear, but this is how it went...after I stomped across the room to her bed...
"Boo, wake up!! You didn't even come in the kitchen to say hi to me, and I have news!" Not even opening her eyes, she says, "What's wrong?" to which I screech, "THERE'S A CRACK IN ONE OF THE GRAMMIE BOWLS!!"
At this point, she's smart enough to open her eyes and feign concern. "Really? What happened?" I responded (in my dogs are only hearing this voice), "I DON'T KNOW!! I just found a crack in it a little while ago and not a little chip like we thought would be cute and add character but a real crack that goes all the way through and I'm not even close to being dead yet!"
"Wow, that sucks."
"IIIIIIIII KNOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!" At which point I stomp out of her room.
I get to the hallway, stop in my tracks and yell, "Wait a minuteeeeee......WHICH PART SUCKS?!"
Smartass.

Heaven

There's a country song that says, "If Heaven were an hour it would be twilight, when the fireflies start their dancing on the lawn." I love that. When asked if there would be dogs in Heaven, Billy Graham replied that since Heaven was supposed to be filled with that which makes us happy, and his dog makes him happy, then yes. There will be dogs in Heaven. I know when we get there we will feel no pain, only joy. But some things do make us more joyful than others, don't they? Which ones would we choose if we could make that choice? I could use a little piece of Heaven right now. I know it will be exponentially better than anything I can imagine right now. Imagine how safe and secure, and loved, we will feel in the presence of God.

But if I could fill Heaven with little pieces of life on Earth, what would it look like? I think Heaven should be filled with sweet little children running through the sprinklers, squealing with delight. And forget the harp music. Maybe some Norah Jones for the soundtrack, or Kenny Chesney singing songs that he wrote just for me. If the weather turns cold and windy, George Winston will definitely be there with his giant blue grand piano. It would be nice if the voice of God were a young Robert Redford. Or James Earl Jones - soothing yet strong and safe. Heaven would be filled with deep purple lisianthus and pink peonies. There would be an endless supply of blackberry pie, and my grandmother's cooking. She would be there too, doing what she loved best. She would tell me all the stories about her childhood. And this time I would listen, instead of secretly rolling my eyes and cursing my sister for not being the one who got "caught" by Grandma's stories that day. She would always smell exactly the way I remember her. My dad would be there, and he would be teaching me how to dance like he did when I was 13 years old and nervous about my first high school dance. He would show no signs of aging, just the young exuberant man he has always been. I could sail with my dad and my brother every day if I wanted, because the water and wind would always be perfect. My girls wouldn't be there yet, but when they got there we would all sing songs together before we fell asleep, like we did when they were very small. There will be an endless loop of 'Life is Beautiful' playing, even though I would probably change the ending a bit. There would be a French cafe on every corner that served chocolate crepes and good Champagne. And all the French bread and Mimolette cheese I could eat. We could see the Big Dipper, the Southern Cross, and all of the other constellations close up. And I'm pretty sure I could talk God into letting me float around the brightest part of the Milky Way for awhile.

I know I'm dreaming and not dreaming nearly big enough. Like I said, it will be beyond our wildest imaginations. But it was fun to imagine for just a few minutes.

fin·ished (fĭn'ĭsht)

v. intr.

1. To come to an end; stop.
2. To reach the end of a task, course, or relationship.

A couple of years ago, someone tagged me to do a certain post answering various questions. I don't remember all of the questions, but one of my answers is something that I have thought of most of my entire adult life. The question was "When do you know it's love?" And here was my answer...
"When you realize that the other person's baggage is not a deal breaker, when you run to the front door every time that person walks in, when you see the future and they're in it." Obviously relationships are much more complicated than that, but love...I think it's pretty simple.

However, recently I realized that no matter how long or how strongly I've believed otherwise - love is simply not enough. When I worked in ministry years ago, a friend of mine was the pastor who officiated the wedding of some of our mutual friends. During the ceremony he said, "Marriage is two people becoming one, and that ONE is always the other person." Wow. Can you visualize a relationship as unselfish as that? A relationship where you continually put the other person before yourself and you can trust them to do the same for you? I can. I have ever since then. I think this is why I've remained single all of these years. I'm holding out for that kind of selflessness, that kind of mutual respect and that kind of honor.

I'm having to say goodbye to someone who I have loved for years. Yeah I know...who knew? It wasn't something I felt comfortable writing about on this blog. It was shaky from the very beginning, a roller coaster really. The love was there, but that type of "oneness" wasn't. Realizing what was lacking is what's making me walk away now. Finally. Finally finished. It's been years. Most of my friends are just frustrated with me and for me because it's been so long. It's why no one else I ever dated stood a chance against this person coming in and out of my life. And until now, I never stood a chance in any other relationship. But now I feel comfortable and right with this decision, which is more than I have been able to say in the past. So many times in life you just have to take the long way. It's part of our imperfect emotional structure. I walked away before because I felt I HAD to. I knew I SHOULD. But I kept going back because we loved each other. I realize I knew all along that it wasn't enough, but you know how these things work out - you gotta go through the crap. You gotta sift through the muck before you realize you're never going to find the treasure.

What I know is that I still love my answer about love. I mean it as much as I meant it when I wrote it almost three years ago. But I'm amending it a little to include being "present". Showing up. Paying attention. Live selflessly. Put love before fear.

This has been such a long time coming. It had to happen before I could ever find a love that I know I deserve and know I can reciprocate. Now I know that my future will be with someone else who can give me all those things. And I can honestly say - my future is lookin' bright! :)

Arrrgggghhhhhh...

I hate sleeping. It's just pure frustration. I can't do it, so I hate it. Sleep should be a good thing, right? I should look forward to it and wake up feeling refreshed.
I can't fall asleep at night, so I have to take something to keep me from being up for days. I've tried everything on the market, and the one I take works the best, but still not that well. I wake up too early, I can't fall back to sleep.

I hate it.

Last night was a typical night's sleep.
I started out reading and/or watching TV, which I have to do to make my mind tired enough to fall asleep. I turn on my nature sounds of a rainstorm to block out any other noises (my ideal sleeping conditions would be an abandoned mine shaft somewhere, where there was absolutely no light and no sound for miles). And I fall asleep. For a few hours if I'm lucky. But now I've not fallen asleep until well after midnight and wake up at the crack of dawn. I try to will myself back to sleep. I try relaxation excercises like concentrating on every part of my body falling asleep. I focus on the sound of the rainstorm and it is comforting for awhile. If I have to go to the bathroom, I don't - because I know that I can put myself back to sleep no matter how bad that particular problem is, but if I get up, I'm awake for good. When the sun comes up, I have to make sure I'm facing a certain way because my blinds suck and the light keeps me awake.

There is just so much noise. Just noise.

The sound of the spa pump coming on, then I anticipate the sprinklers; both things I've tried to change but am electronically inept enough to have no success so far. There's the neighbors dog barking. I want to kill him. Sometimes he gets my dog going and she runs outside to start barking. If I lock her dog door at night, she sits in the house and barks. Noise.

And now I'm awake enough to start thinking. Crap.

I think about everything - my kids and what they are going through at the moment, my job situation, my relationships, my bills. Good things, bad things. All things.

I can't turn it off.

I.just.hate.sleeping.

Oh, To Be Young and Entitled

My 17 year old thinks her dad is going to buy her a Mercedes for her first car. She thinks that because he said he would. Daughters have always had powerful manipulative skills with their fathers and she is no exception.
This is a girl who has pretty much had everything handed to her all her life, and trust me when I say that I take my share of the responsibility. That's what parenting out of fear gets you.

I've raised her by myself since she was old enough to walk (although her father and I were married until she was six years old, as a parent, sadly he was less than useless).
Over the years most of my parenting has been based on these two questions...
1)What did my mother say to me in this situation that made me never want to discuss anything important with her ever again? and...
2)What do I wish she would have said?
Well, that's nice in theory. And I must admit that due to my lack of over-reaction, I have a daughter who tells me more than most - the good, the bad and the ugly. She's told me some things that made me want to plug my ears and hum "Oh Happy Day" until she stopped talking. And I'm thankful for that part of our relationship. The downside is that when you parent out of fear, you're always one step behind the teenager. They can smell it and they immediately start circling the waters.

Then they think they own you.

And apparently, if you're her father, the next thing you know, you're promising them a Mercedes.

This is a girl who has never had a job. My first legal job was when I was 14 at Del Taco down the street. I walked there four days a week in my dorky little uniform, just so proud that I had a job. I say my first "legal" job, because when I was 13, some lady who owned a children's boutique hired me to stock shoes for 10 hours a week and paid me under the table. The point is that I had the balls to go into that boutique and ask her for a job. She recognized this and respected it. So she gave me a job that she probably never even needed filled and taught me a great lesson about taking initiative.

Anyone who knows me knows that I would rather dive head first into my own vomit before I admit to my mother doing something right as a parent. She's the "What Not To Wear" of parenting. But to give credit where credit is due, that woman taught me about initiative and hard work. She talked me into walking into that boutique at 13, because I had nothing to lose (she also talked me into stowing away on a cruise ship and tried to get me to move to Hawaii during a family vacation when I was 18, but that's a whole 'nother post). So why didn't I get that parenting gene? FEAR!
First and foremost, in fear of "becoming" my mother (orphaned Tupperware lids aside), I threw the baby out with the bathwater. Second, fear of losing my daughter - forcing her out of her comfort zone to the point that her reaction was to blame me for the discomfort. The same person, who at 13 boldly walked into a store asking for a job, now at 41 is sometimes unable to stand up to her 17 year old daughter. Out of fear. Don't get me wrong, she doesn't walk all over me, but this issue is not only present, it's rearing its ugly head right about now.

So now she feels entitled. To a Mercedes. To car insurance. To a gas card.

Now, there is no way I will let this happen, and after today she knows it. Her attitude towards the car and all the accessories - her basically sitting back and waiting for it all to be handed to her - is what has kept me from getting her driver's license thus far, even though she's over 17. But I can't ignore how we got here.

I know I'm venting and this post doesn't really do her justice. As far as teenagers go, she's put me through very little stress. She's very loving, she's honest, she respects my rules even though her curfew is earlier than her friends (I checked). This is the only area in which she and I will go to the mat. But oh boyyyy do we.

But I do have to wonder - how do I undo the damage that I have most certainly contributed to?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation (Part 1)

I just got back from Lake Havasu where I spent 5 days on a big boat doing nothing, stressing about nothing, thinking about NOTHING! It was a beautiful 5 days. But one more day, and I would have looked like this...



...and that's never good. My youngest daughter went with me for the first 4 days and then her sister joined us for the last day and night. Look at my little cutie - she's turning into such a big girl...



Alright, now a confession...and this one is sure to win me Mother of the Year for the 17th straight year in a row. It even beats the time I let my little girl walk around on a broken leg for three days, and the time I didn't realize that her hand was broken the first time until she broke it the second time a month later. Yeah, this is a good one. In my last post, ya know how I mention that the girls and I kind of have a song that means something to the three of us? Well, my girls have always said they wanted to get the word STAND tattood on them somewhere. Yeah, what is it with kids today and tattoos? Don't they realize they're permanent? These are little people who don't realize one day they'll have to get A JOB! Well, I broke down - big time. We all got 'em. Yup, even I am the proud owner of a brand new - permanent - tattoo that says Stand. I know, I know! But I got sucked into the whole bonding thing with my babies. And it's on my foot, so hopefully shoes will cover it. But why couldn't anyone have warned me that it was going to hurt like a mother??!! It's supposed to be a purple-y chrome-ish color, but it just looks red because no one told me it was gonna bleed!



So if you're watching the news tonight, watch for the story about the crazy mom who got arrested for letting her 13-year-old daughter get a tattoo! Then come bail me out.

John Rocks

So John reminded me the other day that I haven't blogged in over a year. I actually have a couple of posts saved to drafts that I may get around to finishing soon. But for now, let me say a sincere thank you to everyone who was concerned about my daughter Olivia. In my last post from over a year ago, she was being tested for Hodgkins (see below), and we discovered that she does not have it. We never figured out exactly what she did have, just that it was probably something fungal (eww...) or viral that has already run it's course. After the oncologist, we took her to an infectious disease specialist and by the time a couple of months passed, he had NO idea what we had been dealing with except that it was gone. The only remnant is the fact that she's had a hard time putting the weight back on. That's a bummer because she eats like a horse and is still a size nothing on her fat days. But thank you so much to everyone who wrote, prayed, and generally loved us through it. It was absolutely invaluable to me.

So before I post my adventure filled update on 'What I did on my summer vacation (thus far)', let me share this little gem that John turned me onto...It's a mix of my favorite songs. I have a thousand and one favorite songs, so I picked just six that have significant meaning for me. I'll try to explain why in as short order as possible (you know how I get)...

Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
I chose this because a couple of my other favorites by him (like Jungleland) weren't available. This reminds me so much of high school and college and a thousand great times. I also grew up playing the piano, and this song has some of the best rock piano I have ever heard.

Stand - Rascal Flatts
My daughters and I have spent almost their whole lives with it being just the three of us and this is our anthem. When things suck particularly bad for one of us, and life knocks us on our ass, the other two will lift her up by saying, "We're Flynn girls. We Stand."
Here's the chorus:
"When push comes to shove,
you taste what you're made of.
You might bend 'til you break,
'cause it's all you can take.
On your knees you look up,
decide you've had enough.
You get mad, you get strong,
Wipe your hands, shake it off,
Then you STAND."

Refine Me - Jennifer Knapp
So hard to pick just one by her. She's a Christian singer/songwriter who's about as deep as they come. I love her music. This is a terrible recording of a beautiful and profound song that reminds me that I am not the boss of me, and I do such a crappy job when I try to be.

Anything But Mine - Kenny Chesney
Awww...this songs reminds me so much of someone from the east coast who I spent a very sweet two weeks with several years ago. He left to go home and we parted with love and respect for each other that has remained over the years. It's about someone leaving to go home the next day after a beautiful summer romance and it makes me think of my friend every time I hear it. I've seen him a couple of times since then, and it will never go anywhere, but what a sweet memory. :)

My One True Friend - Bette Midler
I'm one of the rare people of my generation to truly love her music and crazy style. This song reminds me of my deep deep love for my sister, and that if any human being would go to the ends of the earth for me, it is her. It talks about forgiveness, but I've never had to forgive her for anything - very rare between sisters. But she has been endlessly patient with me. Knowing she's there makes me feel safe and like I always have a home.

Hey There, Delilah - Plain White T's
Shouldn't this be called Hey There, Stephanie? Really. :) If this song were written for you while you we're in college, would you not just die for the romance of it? It reminds me of young, sweet, blind adoration and I love it!!

If you only want a snippet of each song, hold your cursor over the bottom of the tape and a menu bar will pop up.

Hope you enjoy them.

By the way, the picture on the tape is of my youngest daughter and her friends playing at the beach and I just thought it was cute. But now that I see it again I'm really just thinking, "skinny little brats." ;)