to you, from me

For the past 18 years, I have been sewing pajamas for my family for Christmas. As the family has grown, both in number and in size, this endeavor has grown as well. Exponentially, it sometimes seems! Yet, I can't really imagine Christmas without slipping into new pajamas on Christmas Eve. One year, Mom was living with us, and I surprised her with a nightgown, too. For years, we had opened presents in the morning, ate breakfast, packed up the car, and headed up to Mom and Dad's for a few days. When the boys were small, it was a great way to keep them from getting tired of their new toys before school even started again. After a while, it just came to be the best way to enjoy their break, celebrating Christmas, showing off new pajamas, swimming in their pool. And the sitting and visiting. Oh, how I miss the sitting and visiting--sometimes wearing those new pajamas right up until tea-time!

There have been years when I just couldn't get myself motivated to make them, until I realized just how therapeutic it was for me to sit at my sewing machine, candle lit, music on, one pile shrinking while another grew beside me. There have been years when we just weren't sure we could afford the fabric (sewing is not the frugal habit it once was--it seems to have become a 'boutique art' and the component costs have risen accordingly), even with coupons and sales. One year, I even made one pair out of old sheets. Somehow, though, we've squeaked by with the purchase during lean times, and even when time has been tight, it's all worked out.

Two years ago, we decided to try a ski trip with Guy's brother and family. I enlisted my sister-in-love's mother to get sizes for me so that I could surprise them pajamas of their own. Every time we get together, we get a Cousin Picture, and that one was particularly endearing. The looks on their faces, the snuggly warmth of a perfect holiday (despite a blizzard, and being so sick I couldn't get out of bed for 2 days!), begun with a bag of flannel and fleece.

Last year, Guy's sister's family joined us the day after Christmas, and I added another 4 pairs to my already humongous pile! What joy! What fun! And what a wonderful feeling to know that they had a gift from my heart--from all our hearts, when everyone's help with dinner and chores are factored in. With each stitch, I'm reminded of the blessings my family are to me.

This year, for the first time in all my pajama-making history, I'm working full-time. Still, I'm determined to continue our tradition. Time is tight; I have to make good use of each minute I have available, so I'm starting with the boys. Then Guy. If there is still time in the next 4 weeks, I'll make myself a nightgown, too. Many times I've been told that I shouldn't leave myself for last; that I should make myself as important as anyone else in my family. It always makes me wonder what is missing from the life of anyone who would say that without considering the joy I experience, the peace I come to, creating for others. Especially for those I care about, with all my heart.

Throughout the year, I see my boys in their Christmas flannels or fleece, and my heart swells. Not with pride, but with appreciation that they want to wear them. The best gifts to give are those that mean something to the recipient, but I think the giving is enhanced by being invested in that gift. Tomorrow, I will again have a nose full of flannel lint, and a wastebasket full of scraps.

And I will feel thankful for the gifts of life, family, faith, and love.

truer words

Yesterday, I awoke with a pain in my soul, caused, in part, by a random and unusual outburst the night before. The pain took the form of doubt and fear, snaking through the recesses of my mind like Eden's serpent. As a result, I was more than just cranky from less sleep than I would have liked; I was downright bearlike, growling and snapping at everything. Not my finest day. The upside is that in trying to steer clear of everyone around me, I got quite a bit accomplished (turkey chili, turkey noodle soup, laundry, dishes), but, as I am never very good at steering clear, I also exploded occasionally at the boys.

When I got a text -- "My children serve tonight. Interested in Jojos or somethin'?" -- I cried. They were tears of ultimate frustration. Our children serve on different teams at Mass, and when either have Saturday night, we try to plan a get-together afterwards. These times are always refreshing, lighthearted, and fun. I was feeling none of these things, and couldn't even envision any kind of improvement in my mood for a very long time. Which I knew could only be the worst kind of self-fulfilling. At first, I simply ignored the message. I didn't even want to leave the house until I would be forced to, but I finally texted back that I was in the foulest of foul moods. I couldn't see myself being any kind of good company. But we had planned on going to Mass at 5:30, and I couldn't see depriving everyone of the multi-leveled refreshment. That would be far too selfish of me. If I couldn't shake it, I could always hide in the bathroom or something.

Twelve people (seven of them the kids and our niece), two bottles of wine, four pizzas (especially tasty last night!), Twitter, Facebook, a "gift jar/hat" and about two hours of conversation later, I felt like a new woman. Alive, loving, loved, renewed. Well worth the risk, as friendship usually is. We are truly blessed to consider each other family, as well as friends. Days like yesterday are when I realize how important that is.

I have a tendency, as many people do, I'm sure, to close myself in when I'm in a bad mood. I knew I should probably call someone, just to chat, but when I have that kind of ugliness behind my eyes, I figure I will likely say something ugly or regrettable. In the end, will my friends judge me for that? Probably not. And when I feel that way, like I don't even want to know myself, I always think later of who would have helped me through -- by chatting with me on the phone, or insisting that I drop everything and do something for my soul. Why do I close in so much? Why do I resist the very things that will help me to feel better, to melt the icy rock of acerbity? I wanted to do yoga: the general stretching, if nothing else, would have forced a little bit of balance. I kept finding excuses that I couldn't -- this floor still needed to be cleaned, the chili needed to be stirred, the laundry needed to be folded -- so I felt more and more off-kilter. I didn't even eat, really; a half a slice of pumpkin pie for breakfast, a banana after the grocery store, some turkey skin and some bits of bell pepper while preparing the chili. But there was so much irascibility in my belly that I didn't even notice an emptiness, until I taste-tested the turkey noodle soup. And then had another spoonful. And another.

By then, I had already had Jonathan call to let our friends know we would be joining them (I didn't trust myself even to text a positive response), and had changed (finally) out of the clothes I had slept in. As the soup nourished my body, it also fed my spirit, which began to reopen, to reawaken, to be relieved. Why hadn't I thought to eat earlier? The boys had invited me to lunch, and I refused, but now I realize joining them would likely have broken the mood. Then again, had I gone, I would not have been able to justify the evening out. In the end, it worked out for the best. I just wish the mood had not been there in the first place.

On the way home, I received another text: "I hope we cheered you up!" I was overwhelmed with thankfulness, and texted back simply: "Far more than I thought possible! Thank you! :)"

"...What wonders wine, pizza, and nonsense will do for a soul." My thoughts exactly.

along the way

Life twists and turns. Sometimes it makes sense, or we have an idea that we can control it. In reality, most of it happens and we deal with things well, or not so well, depending on where we are. It's a journey, and we can either focus on the destination, or we can enjoy the ride. I avoid doing either one exclusively because occasionally, when I am focused on the future, I miss out on the little things that make today beautiful, and vice versa. The trickiest thing is to find the balance between endgame and realtime. Each today is what carries me to tomorrow, and the goals set there.

Being off-balance gets me off course, of course. And it's also easy to forget that balance is a delicate thing. I'd like to rely on others to tell me I'm headed in the wrong direction, but that's not fair to them or to me. I have to chart my own course--even for common goals. Working together toward a goal also involves my own choices, my own twists and turns. That can be hard to remember.

Today, I'm going to focus on the ride, the journey: its sights and sounds, its bumps, its accelerations and slopes. I'm going to feel the joy in the here and now (the hear and know?) and let my (our) goals remain a star on the map. Today, the map shall be a guide. I'll make a conscious effort to slide the scale in that direction, so that when I get back on course, I'll feel it and embrace it. For it's the accidental slides that throw things off kilter.

Today is family, love, fun, and thankfulness, all over again. Thanksgiving, the day, may happen once a year, but thanksgiving, the attitude, feels wonderful every day.

turning points

Thanksgiving morning. My favorite holiday of the year. Actually, my favorite day of the year! I love the food prep (I love food!!) and the dinner planning. I love that our tradition is that the day is about gathering, and not much else. Most of the boys and my niece are sleeping in, Guy and I have had a wonderfully lively discussion about faith, Faith, life and love while sipping coffee and reading. Joseph is slightly sore from wrestling practice yesterday, but still his lovey and talkative self. It's chilly, sunny, and lovely. Soon, I will start getting our turkey ready to go in the oven and figure out just how I want to prepare the beautiful acorn squash I want to add to the menu. Most of the day will consist of food, wine, conversation and laughter, with a parade and some football thrown in, and maybe even a game or two of cards, and some old friends who may stop by tonight, or sometime over the weekend. I love the simplicity of the day, along with the complexity of thankfulness.

This year, I have more clarity than usual regarding just how thankful I am, and just how complex thankfulness is. So much has happened this year -- both "good" and "bad" -- about which I am, honestly, thankful; therein lies the complexity. In order for some of the good to have come about, I had to fully experience the bad, and for that reason alone I am thankful for both. If I were just to be thankful for the good, I would be denying the fundamental basis for the changes in my life that I celebrate. When we sit together and express out loud our thanks on this day, will I choose any of the valleys? Not a chance. That thankfulness is an internal force that brought about growth, healing, maturity, playfulness and a marked deepening of my faith -- all things that I had thought were mostly gone from my psyche, from my being, from my heart. Is it strange that I am, in my heart of hearts, grateful for the events, people and lessons? You might think so; in fact, sometimes I think so, too. But I don't have to "like" them to be grateful, and not because "it's the thought that counts." Far from it!

A lesson I learned long, long ago is that no one has to like what life dishes out. Ever. No one has to just accept it, either. But knowing that it's there, that it will come no matter what we do, say or hope for/against, and will come at us can be more than just a little daunting. Somewhere in there, I learned that the best thing to do is to face it all, process it, and determine how it will affect you -- what you have learned. More recently still, I've faced the magnitude of those lessons. It's more than "I'm bigger than this," or "This is who I am." What I've learned to do this year is that progress is the goal, and it really doesn't matter if that progress is measured in inches, miles or fathoms: any progress is something for which to be thankful, and to graciously accept.

Learning is important to me. I love to teach, but only because of what I learn in return. The sharing of lively minds is joyful and uplifting to me (even if the subject matter is painful) because in the end, we will have progressed, deepening our understanding, regardless of how (mental, physical, emotional). All in all, what I am most thankful for this year is progress, the ability and desire to learn, to share, to grow and to forgive. I am most thankful for my faith, and where it can take me, if only I let it.

virtual vs. real

Yesterday, before I even put my glasses on, I had the most wonderful virtual visit with a couple of my dearest college friends -- one from the first go-around, and one from the second. The best part was when they were interacting on my page together. I can imagine them sitting together, drinking coffee, or eating lunch, giving me -- and each other -- a good-natured hard time, and I love it! In between, I was having a raucous virtual time with a group of people that I otherwise would have no contact with, or even knowledge of, if not for the "magic" of the internet, social media and other online communication. I love this technology, and vast array of ways it can be used for good.

At the same time, I find myself exceptionally frustrated with the use of media -- social and otherwise -- to cloud and obfuscate (thanks for the word, D-J!) what is important in life, in the world, in our real lives. We do not live in the magical, fantastical world that the internet and all its trappings create. We live in a real place, where people have been killed in the line of duty, and glossed over. Where children are truly and honestly afraid for their safety, the safety (The SAFETY -- Children!!) of their families, their homes, their country. Where every job is in jeopardy, it seems, of one sort or another. Where our peers, our own neighbors, really, are still wondering how to rebuild after a natural disaster. And yet, what are we showered with in the news? Frivolous 'scandals' that, in all likelihood, should be handled privately, behind closed doors, by the individuals involved. Except that the frivolity may just have been engineered. We may never know.

The unfortunate thing is that the virtual reality of our individual internet worlds starts to feel safer to us, because what seems to be happening in the real world looks more and more like a bad movie. Not the kind that one feels one can get up and walk out of, demanding a refund; rather, the type that falls under the category of "train wreck" or "rubbernecking." So many of us are finding ourselves wondering what could possibly happen next, and shaking our heads that it did, in fact, get worse.

Lately, too many things in my life that are dear to me have lead to discussions of breaking down to bare bones, to the very foundation, to the point of no return before anything can be salvaged. Not much is irreparable, in my opinion, but most things take a heck of a lot more work -- and energy -- to maintain than many people are willing to expend. I know this firsthand, and am willing to admit that I was quite willing to give up and watch the results of my laziness (why call it anything else?? I got complacent.) because working and giving got hard, and painful. I'm back, though, and I daresay with a vengeance. To tell you the truth, I feel more useful, more invigorated, more alive for it!

Don't let it all die. Go down fighting, or go away. Beware of propaganda (my youngest son and I have been talking about propaganda quite a bit lately! He's 12, and bringing home questions about what he's learned in school.) and its intent, which is seldom less than nefarious. Pray for answers. Act on them. Fight the good fight, and leave No One Behind.

hang in there

I was told today -- twice -- that I am "probably intimidating." I found that to be very interesting, as that word did not come to mind when I was trying to quickly come up with a word that others would use to describe me; although it should have. I've been told many times that I am intimidating, but this was different.

To be honest, when I heard it the first time today, it bothered me a little. I felt like I'd been attacked. Okay, it bothered me a lot, and I had to repeatedly tell myself not to think about it. Which, of course, led me to think about it quite a bit this morning! By the time I was told the second time, by someone else, I was pretty amused by the 'coincidence.' And I also wondered if perhaps I had stumbled upon the source of the first instance.

I do intimidate. Not consciously, unless I have a reason to -- and sometimes I have had very good reasons to! The comment reminded me of a thread I was involved in a few days ago, involving a theme of "smart is sexy." While I've heard this (male) friend make this comment before, the company was different, and ultimately led to a discussion of teenage girls finding the need to 'hide' their intelligence from the world (not just from men, as possible mates, but from other women, too, all of whom might become 'intimidated.') The trouble is, I know stuff. Stuff stays in my head, bounces around a bit, and sooner or later bumps into something else up there to make a lively new idea. When those ideas get a bit crowded, or when the topic comes up, they spill out. Sometimes they pop out when the timing is weird, and I end up babbling on for a good long time to my unsuspecting husband and/or children about something they either don't care about or don't really need to know. Last night, I found my thoughts bouncing around and into a former bundle of 'choreographer' thoughts, and literally said to myself, "I wish I still taught dance. I could so use this." The bundle and the associated thoughts may or may not have trickled out with a stray tear; I don't know because I was on to the next filament.

Knowing stuff is one thing; sharing it is what leads to that intimidation trap. Why is that? Why are people intimidated by people who know stuff? I, for one, am fascinated by people who know things that I don't know -- especially when they are willing to share their knowledge. I'm like a sponge with information and knowledge. Most of the time it matters little to me if it's even anything I can use! I like to learn. I like to listen. I like to talk, too, sometimes. All my life I've been aware that if I don't talk, I probably won't intimidate, stand out, offend. Most of the time, I manage to keep quiet in unknown company. I'm really not very good at keeping quiet, though, especially when someone is trying to intimidate me or someone else.

While I don't like to tip my hand often, I also don't like people who try to throw their weight around through random facts. I step in, ask a question, offer a bit of my own knowledge. I'd like to say that most of the time the result is a more civil conversation or argument. However, that is far from the case. Purposefully verbal intimidators (aka: bullies) do not take well to anyone noticing their tricks, or showing their own knowledge. They don't like smarts, and they tend to really not like bright women.

I am not afraid to show my intelligence. I was about to say that I'm not sure what the turning point was for me, shifting from hiding my mind to speaking it, but then I realized that's not entirely true. I distinctly remember making the decision to lay it all on the line, to say just what I was thinking and just what I know to be true, and to ask the questions that would help to fill in the blanks. It was, interestingly, the day before the first time my husband said, "I love you." What I remember most about that day, that moment, is the shock that I felt: I'd been sure my self-assurance, confidence, and intelligence would be a major turn-off to this guy that I found so appealing. It was my first encounter with the idea that "smart is sexy." From time to time, he's told me that my mind intimidates him, too, but he's found (or continues to work on) the balance between frustration and admiration that is the key to our relationship. I work on it, too, all the time. He knows things that I have tried so hard to understand, too! Best of all, our conversations never bore me because of the mental sharing we do, along with the emotional sharing and the mundane, daily details. All of it is fed by our shared intelligence.

Do I intimidate everyone? By no means. In fact, one of the people who told me that I might be intimidating to someone also said, "I don't find you to be at all intimidating. And I don't mean to offend you by that. You just don't have it in you." She is, by the way, an extraordinarily intelligent woman herself. Perhaps, the biggest factor in who is intimidated by me is the fact that I am not easily visibly intimidated. I get all kinds of quivery inside -- often! -- with confrontation or a display of peacock feathers, but I find no reason to show it if I have facts and "right" on my side.

An interesting conglomerate of thoughts for the day, to say the least.

wordsmithing

I've worked with lots of words today. Lots and LOTS of words. I listened to the words in my own head when starting the computers for the day, and used context clues to decipher an email sent to me by an English teacher. I passed on some words stuffed full with my unspoken opinion. I suppressed some choice words when the L O N G stream of words I was entering into our database was suddenly interrupted with an "administrative error" message. (If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd have some rather interesting words to share about the timing of that particular error, but I don't really want to get into that here, now!)

I shook my head at words that amounted to crazy talk from an otherwise sane person, then later shared said words with someone else, who found them to be equally inane. I listened to words that I found to be frustratingly judgemental, holier than thou, even, and could not, myself, find the words to say that would ultimately only have an affect on me. I didn't want to bring more personalities into the discussion -- although, any personality in it may have alleviated some of my distress! These were words that were hitting a little too close to home, and yet were quite off base. Stick to the facts; the ones that matter, not the ones that are shiny and intended to distract. (Life is a word problem.....)

I shared words that were uplifting: about my dad, shared interests, and widows' pence, questions and answers and how to find them both. [Yes, we shared Bible talk in the public school library. Words are pretty cool.] Words I sang from the two CDs I listened to this evening alternately uplifted and drained me; wonderfully emotional words expressing deep, heart-felt thoughts, dreams, fears.

I came home from work and spilled some words on a page, somewhere here in a draft, that may never see the light of day again, but needed to get out of my head, out of my heart, before they spoiled the landscape of my soul. Words of contempt for those who have never walked in those shoes -- not for any reason other than they think they wouldn't. 'Contempt' is too strong a word for what I really felt, but the words burned like acid in my mind, stirring up stronger feelings than necessary. Spreading them across a page diluted them, gave them less power, less control of my head, so I could get back to myself, to the realness, the facts. I played Words with Friends.

I read words that confused the heck out of me, simply because there was no proofreading done. (Giving the benefit of the doubt there--could just be the guy still has no idea how to put together a newsletter. Or has never cross-referenced anything.) I checked, and double-checked, then re-checked those words, and still came up a few cents short on meaning. Oh, well, some words are just not worth as much.

But....

Most importantly, I wrote words that meant something to me. Words that cleansed me and warmed my heart, while wetting my cheeks. Words meant for one set of eyes alone. Of all the words I used and encountered and shared today, those words are the most dear, and most important of all. And with them, the dark-time will be less daunting. I am enlightened.

admiration and pride

It's Veteran's Day today. Please, go find a Veteran, and say, "Thank you."

As I sat in Church this morning, gazing at the flag moved to a place of honor near the altar for the weekend, I found myself thinking about my favorite veteran. I know, and have known, a number of men and women who have served our country both in peacetime, as well as wartime. My father was a Marine, but drilled into me (pun intended) that he was not a veteran, as he had only served in peacetime. I'm not sure why, exactly, he saw it that way, when I've heard many times that anyone who has served is a veteran, but he was vehement. Perhaps his strong feelings were related to stories he may have heard from his godmother, Aunt Alice Watts, who was an Army Nurse in WWII. Perhaps there was something else, or someone else who shaped his views of his own time in the military, or maybe Grampa Henry was adamant, since he himself was a little bitter about not being able to serve in WWII because his job as a prison guard was too important stateside. Maybe it was the genuine modesty I've felt and observed from so many. I do know that whatever Dad's reasons, they were voiced strongly enough to me to have never asked again.

My favorite Veteran is someone I can't thank enough. He has done so much -- professionally, and for my family, and for me personally. I admire him: his courage, his dedication, his strength, his faith. I am grateful in ways I cannot express for his friendship, and his love. We have had discussions on any subject under the sun, and quite a few under the moon, as well. While I was in school, and he was deployed -- twice, there were days when I would IM him, asking his opinion on thoughts, questions, issues, and would fill him in on average, everyday things going on in my household. Carefully, we all chose what to include in packages to him -- a Christmas tree once, ping pong balls, tabletop toys -- with the cookies I made and wrapped carefully. Those packages were filled with anything we could find to express our love and admiration for him, and our hopes and prayers for his safety. That he knew. What he may not have known is that those packages were also filled with tears of worry for him and sadness for his family, missing him. They were filled with laughter, too, that the boys and I exploded with as we talked about the last time we were together, or what we should do when we saw him next. Once, I asked him what he missed most that day while we talked, and he said the snow. I had told him we had just gotten our first of the season. I went out that day and lay down in it to make a snow angel, just for him.

The blessing of this man has enriched my life, and I cannot thank God enough for him. He makes me mad sometimes , and there have been times when I wondered just who he thinks he is. And I'm quite sure he has the same thoughts about me sometimes. But when it comes down to the wire, he's always been there for me. His wife and my husband admire our friendship, too, and, wonderfully, it expands to include both families: we consider both to be just one, in many ways.

It is because of him that I go out of my way to thank anyone I see in uniform whenever possible. It is because of him that I cry every time I say that simple "Thank you for your service." It is because of him that I stay and listen to the response. For me, it would be much easier to just say thanks and keep moving. Most of the time, the response is very brief, possibly even rehearsed; but the look in their eyes.....that's the part that is important to me. The part that tugs at my heart and makes it overflow. The part that makes me cry every single time. Usually, afterwards, I'll send him a text, thanking him, too. It's been a while.

Today, looking at each star visible to me, each stripe on the flag, and the eagle atop the pole, wings outstretched, I thanked God once again for all who have served our country, giving of themselves -- selflessly -- and the immeasurable sacrifices they make, day after day. I lowered my head, too, at the realization, the admission, that always comes next: that I could not do it; I could never be in that uniform, and put myself on the line like they do. I admire each and every member of our Armed Forces, and I wish I could thank them all.

The best I can do today is to thank one in particular. Paul, thank you. I love you, and I admire you, and I am proud to be considered more than just your sister-in-love, to be considered your friend.

not so mellow yellow

Tomorrow, despite being November, will be a beautiful day to paint the porch. I am so excited, I can't even stand it! We have had a tendency to wait on stuff. We have "ultimate plans" which seem to make all the little things wait. Lots of ideas for projects start with "Eventually, we'd like to...." and then end with ".....so we'll just wait to do this." The result is that we have half done and undone alongside really should be done and could be done. The unfortunate byproduct is that the place looks a mess no matter how clean it is, notwithstanding clutter. Painting the porch is the beginning of our new outlook on living space: it needs to look good to feel good.

You see, it's a vicious cycle: the floor is ugly, the floor gets dirty, the floor is ugly so why expend extra effort to get it spic and span, just make it livable, the floor is ugly. We've started working on that one, too, with the current result of an even uglier (and harder to clean) floor, BUT, at the very least, it is our choice at the moment, rather than the ugly floor we inherited with the house 17 years ago. (See how long it takes for us to catch up with ourselves sometimes?) To be fair, part of the reason is the amount of money it costs to fix up some of this stuff, balanced by the amount of money it costs to feed and clothe our family. No one goes hungry around here; I'd rather skimp on how the floor looks than on my kids' health and welfare. Paint, though, is relatively inexpensive. I don't think anyone will starve this week because the porch will look much nicer.

Have I mentioned that I am way over the top excited??

Guy has already scraped, sanded and washed, and I have already worked on the priming. It's all ready to go, and I was so bummed that we would probably have to start all over again in the spring, since all kinds of "stuff" -- good and not so much -- had come up, preventing me from doing the painting proper. Then the wondrous forecast of 59 degrees tomorrow and 65 on Sunday! Woot!! You will find me at the top of Dad's old wooden ladder, probably wearing one of Dad's old shirts, makin' pretty, listening to music and belting out songs while wearing my hot pink earbuds (that way no one can hear me, right?) and grinning from ear to ear.

If you need me, that's where I'll be! Wrapped up in my joy at seeing the job complete and the memories that flow freely from the brush and through the music when mixed with fresh air. It will be a good weekend. Thanks, Lord, for the ways and means; for the ability and the desire; and most of all, for the guidance and support.

on a dime

I just got a text from a friend asking about lunch this week. A wonderfully bright little moment in my day, and it reminded me of one more thing that's about to change. I'm going to be starting a new job soon that will be an exciting change in our lives, and our lifestyle. Since the call came, I have been alternately bouncing and deflating, culminating in quite a blowup last night. Change management is usually one of my specialties, but most of the time, I am focusing my energy on guiding someone else through the stressors associated with "new" stuff. As a result, I didn't even really recognize what was running around up there in the attic space of my head. (You know that space; where ideas, fears, memories, and the name of that person you just saw at the grocery store hide like mice and spiders so that you can't quite find them until all of a sudden, BAM!! In your face!!)

My current position has been "home" for a year and a half, but prior to that, I worked in much the same capacity, in almost the same chair, for four years. That's a bunch of roots. I love what I do, and if it had been a full-time position, or even half again the hours I have, I would never leave. The faculty and staff are amazing to work with, to chat with, and to grow around, and the kids, though they would balk at the idea, are equally great to be around. The thought no longer working with them is more than just sad; it's frightening, and in some cases, gut-wrenching. Overall, I try not to think about the "stuff" that I do (many a monkey could do most of it, just not with my style and finesse!); it's the faces, the smiles, the friendships that I keep seeing in my mind's eye.

On the flip side, in my new position, across the river, I'll be working with grown-ups, doing grown-up things and wearing grown-up clothes. And I know that without a doubt, I can still be my silly, goofball self, since that is exactly who they met in the interviews. I already enjoy the company of the team I'll be working with, having seen them "in action" one morning, and sharing emails and a couple of phone calls working out logistics. I'm excited about getting to know them while learning the details and intricacies of a three-inch training binder (an estimated six months to a year of training alone). Learning is one of the things that makes me thrive, and I am chomping at the bit to learn, learn, learn every day! I like being the resident expert, but it's just not a challenge. I like mountains, rocks, twists and turns. And it's a busy place! Sitting still, stagnating, is also very difficult for me. Gotta have something to do. When I think of all that, I get so excited and happy. Almost giddy. All this and a grown-up paycheck, to boot! Holy wow!

We've faced quite a bit of change in our family lately: a new school (and home!) for Jonathan, a new swim team for Guy and the boys, a new sport for Joseph, band and high school for Drew, a job for Henry, the list goes on and on, as these are just the biggies. Then there are the changes Guy and I have made in how we run the house, and how we relate to each other and the boys--all changes that were a long time coming, well thought out, and that have made a huge difference in our lives (WAY for the good, btw!). By the time we got to see Jonathan at Family Weekend this past weekend, I think I was pretty much changed out. I had prepared myself for the house without him, and had truly enjoyed his time home during fall break, but I had completely forgotten how quickly a place can become "home" and how strange it can be to share that with someone else; how glad I was, secretly, that Parents Weekend was over and I could get back to my life. Because I had allowed myself to overlook that (pertinent) little possibility of college life, when I saw it, I got slammed with all the other emotional stress I was able to completely put aside while we ate together, watched football, and at night visited and played cards with our friends while he had his own fun with his.

It bothered me, more than it should have, and more than I ordinarily would have let it, that sudden awareness that our visit was pretty much done. Probably I just hoped that the weekend would last longer so I wouldn't have to think about real-life things, like my resignation letter, the bus schedule, saying good bye, saying hello [Sometimes the fact that saying good bye means that there will be hellos is so stressful for me that I want to hide in a closet. I think that may have been a factor here.], moving along, moving forward, growing just a little bit more. I overreacted, which I knew immediately, so I was embarrassed about it, and tried to force myself not to cry. God only knows why; crying is one of those things I do, whether I want to or not, all. the. time. I think I tried to keep it in because, of all my boys, Jonathan is the only one who has ever told me that it makes him uncomfortable. The others just shake their heads at me, give me a quick hug, or, in Henry's case, out and out taunt me (makes me feel like one of the guys). Even though he wasn't in the car with us, looking back, I think that's part of it. At any rate, I was not being myself, which led, in a circuitous manner, and in conjunction with the other stuff shoved unceremoniously to the back of my mind, to a nasty flat tire on the road of relationship health, complete with tears, frustration, and a very late night.

A common occurrence? No, although not unheard of in our neck of the woods. Normal? Heck, yes. We are human, and living together in close quarters, with different pasts, combined with our shared life experiences, and a boatload of everything to think about! A lot of factors came together and made some fireworks. Show's over; move along.

So an invitation to lunch is another of the bittersweet....I love this friend with all my heart, but a job across the river will make the option of lunch together pretty tricky. Then again, I also know that the effort in making arrangements to purposefully spend time with someone dear to my heart makes life worthwhile. See you Thursday, sweetie!