What Happened To My Marriage

"Do you have a website or some way to contact you?" the woman from the audience asked me after I concluded the morning session of the retreat I was speaking at. Since she was one of many who had asked, I decided to build a website. Making that decision was quick and painless. Actually doing the work included much suffering. With no technological experience and the complete lack of a tech-brain, I began work. Then I thew things. And yelled. And even cried a little at one point. But, alas, it is done. Hopefully.

My current blog content - fromthecarpoollane.com - is moving to my new website: whathappenedtomymarriage.com. If you would like to continue to receive the blog emailed to you, just go to whathappenedtomymarriage.com and enter your email address. It will only take a minute and will continue to work the same as before (again, hopefully!) Please let me know if there is a snag in my system. And thank you for being a source of support and encouragement all this time!

Anniversary

"Let's open the gifts now," I told Mike, too excited to wait.

"Here? In the car?" he asked.

"Sure. Why not?" I said, grabbing the fat envelope with my name on it and ripping it open.

"It's the book you've been wanting," he explained when I stared at the unfolded paper. "It's not out yet, so I preordered it and printed the receipt. Do you like it?"

"Um, I like it so much that I also preordered it for you."

"What?" he asked. "This exact book?"

"This exact one," I confirmed. "Oh well," I said after several moments of stunned silence. "I got you two gifts, so just ignore the folded paper when you open your present."

"Okay," he said, pulling tissue paper out of of the red gift bag.

"You know what it is, right?" I asked when he stared silently at the DVD cover. "You've wanted this movie for a long time."

"Yeah," he whispered. "It's just that I bought it for you this morning."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I don't know, but I'm a little freaked out right now."

"Maybe we should eat."

"Twenty-three years," Mike said as our salads arrived. "It seems like someone should give us a Lifetime Achievement Award for making it this long."

"I know!" I agreed, slicing into my delectable steak. "I'm just sad there aren't any movies out right now that we really want to see. I hate going to one that we aren't excited about."

"Well, we could skip the movie and just rent one from Redbox."

"And watch it at home with a house full of people?" I asked. "Not very romantic."

"We could put a Do Not Disturb note on the door to the TV room."

"Oh, yeah! Then we could watch a better movie in our pajamas!"

"Do you find it hard to focus on the movie when right out that window we can see the kids shooting off fireworks?" I asked Mike, snuggled under a fluffy blanket.

"It's a bit distracting," he admitted. "I'm sure they will be fine, though."

"They were hoping to watch Dr. Who until we claimed the TV."

"Do you want to call them in and we can all watch it together?"

Twenty minutes later Mike passed bowls of popcorn to all the teenagers crowded onto the couch, and I got out extra blankets.

"Hey," Mike nudged me as the Dr. Who theme music filled the room, "there are your Lifetime Achievement Awards." I looked at the row of kids tucked under blankets, sharing popcorn, smelling of outdoors, fire, and sweat.

"Yeah," I agreed, "there they are. Happy Anniversary."

I Owe Someone Food

My dog is all kinds of naughty. And his blue eyes mesmerize us into letting him get by with most of it. I know, though, that he is a bit scary. He looks large and powerful. When people see him, they think he might be a wolf. Then they think he might eat them. They don't know that he lets babies pull his fur and poke him in the eye or that he runs terrified at the bark of tiny dogs. In fact, he ran away from a min pin so fast one time that he sprained his ankle. So, we've been keeping him chained up lately. There is a lot of construction going on near our house, and we don't want him to frighten the workers. Also, we don't want him to return home with cement plastered all over his paws and legs. Again.


He wants to run though, so he sneaks out any chance he finds. Which he did recently when we had a house full of door-leaving-open teenagers. I noticed him in our front yard a few hours later, and I was happy to see that he was mostly free of cement, but felt concerned when I saw that he was guarding something. I walked toward him and he picked up his treasure in his mouth and pranced proudly toward me. As he walked toward me across the yard, he pranced prouder and prouder. Wondering what he may have killed and worried that it might be a cute bunny, I didn't want to look at what he laid at my feet. Until I saw what it was.

A peeled orange in a ziplock baggie.

I'm sure that whatever construction worker he took it from was terrified. And hungry. 

Oh My Homecoming

Last month:
"Hey, are any of you going to homecoming?" I asked my children as we ate supper.
"No," Josiah said.
"I don't want to," Drake said.
"I think I will go with a group of my friends," Emery said.

Last 48 hours:
"Hey, I am taking a friend to homecoming," Drake announced.

Last 24 hours:
"I'm going to homecoming after all," Josiah announced.
"You know you have a band competition and senior pictures that day?"
"Yes, it will be fine."

Last 12 hours:
"Do I need one of those flower things for the girl I'm taking to homecoming," Josiah texted me.
"YES!" I panicked. "You need to get to the flower shop right now and beg them for a corsage. I have to take Emery to get her make up done, and I'll meet you back home. Good luck."

"Hey Mom," Drake said when I returned with a beautiful Emery, "I think my dress clothes need ironed."
"Don't you know how to iron?"
"I don't remember how."
"Then this is a great time for a refresher course," I said, feeling smug. I plugged in the iron and told Drake to grab his clothes and meet me at the ironing board. "What is this?" I asked uncrumpling the ball of fabric he handed me.
"My pants," Drake said.
"Why do they look like they belong to a small child?"
"Well, I haven't worn them for a long time."
"These won't fit you. Do you have any other pants?"
"I think there are some on the top shelf of my closet."
"Go put them on and meet me in the bathroom. I have to curl Emery's hair. Hurry, it's nearly time to go."

"Drake, those are huge," I said staring at the pants that would have easily fit two of him.
"Well, they are all I have."
"Seeing as how we have no choice, grab a belt and keep your shirt untucked."
"Oh, and do I need one of those flower things for the girl I'm going with?"
"You're killing me."

"Okay," I said to our homecoming huddle by the door, "here is the plan. I will drop Emery off at her friend's house and she will ride with them to take pictures at the pond. From there, I will drive to the park to take pictures of Drake and then speed over to the pond to get some pictures of Emery. Dad is with Josiah at his senior pictures and will get pictures of him and his group as soon as senior pictures are done. Break!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, I drove leisurely from dropping off Emery to meet up with Drake's group of friends. I knew I had plenty of time, in fact, I would likely arrive five minutes early.
"Hello," I answered my phone.
"MOM!" Drake, said in a rushed voice - as panicked as he ever gets - "I forgot the homecoming tickets at home."
"Are you already at the park?"
"Yes!"
My mind raced doing mom geography and came to the only solution. "Okay, I will go home and get them, but it will take me twenty-five minutes from where I am. I will miss your pictures, so have someone get copies for me. Then I will meet you at the restaurant with the tickets."

I sped faster than legally allowed to our house in the country, located the tickets, and raced to the pond just in time to snap a few glorious pictures of Emery looking gorgeous. Feeling proud and a bit emotional - BECAUSE MY BABY IS GOING TO HOMECOMING - I began driving to the restaurant Drake was at to drop off his forgotten ticket.

"Hello," I answered my phone.
"MOM!" Josiah said in a rushed voice, "Dad just left me with my group, but I forgot the homecoming tickets at home!"

"At least Makenna didn't go to homecoming this year," I said to Mike later, yawning from exhaustion.
"I know!" he agreed. "This was crazy!"

"Hello," I answered my phone.
"MOM!" Makenna cried, "A huge man fell on me at work and my ankle hurts! I can't walk."
It was broken.

I'm not a fan of homecoming weekend.

Cute Overload

There is a pile of kittens on my porch. Kittens are a vortex of time. Even walking near them sucks hours out of my day. I try to resist their tiny meows and their fluffy cuddles, but cuteness is actually addictive. I find myself holding them all in my lap even though I have no memory of walking to them. I tell myself to be strong, but, before I know it, I am kissing their fuzzy heads.

I think that the cuteness is exponentially magnified relative to the amount of kittens there are. I have five. One has three legs, so his cute factor equals twelve kittens. He is just learning to walk, and he does most of it on his face. It is heart wrenching, and I cannot stop trying to help him.

You can try to ignore the pull but you will fail. You will wonder how they are, if they are okay, if they have changed overnight, and once you make eye contact the day is wasted. They have you.

This is why I have given up trying to accomplish anything.

So Much Pain

My lovely daughter is currently studying esthetics, which really means skin care. Basically, that means she makes people look good. She's learning about stuff you put on and take off your face and rub on and take off your skin. 

"Mom, will you come in and let me practice on you so I can get some hands-on hours in?" she kindly asked me.
"Sure. Like you'll give me a facial or something?" I asked, innocently.
"Yeah. I'll see what I need to get off my list, and I'll sign you up for what I need to do."

Since I love her and want to promote her education, I scheduled an appointment. Now, let me explain that I am not a fancy person. I do not do complicated beauty procedures. I have not plucked, waxed, tanned, massaged, etc. I shower. That seems good enough to me.

When I arrived for my appointment, my sweet, beautiful daughter told me she needed to wax my face.

My face spent the rest of the day on fire. On FIRE, Ya'll. A burning torch kind of fire. And I did say, "Ya'll," and I'm not even Southern. That's how much fire my face was on.

And I still love her. That's the power of momhood.

Getting Disney

Five kittens were born to us last Friday. They are black and dark gray striped and one is all black with a white belly and paws. One has only three legs. Mama Cat is kind enough to let us hold them as often as we like, which is often indeed.

After the birth, I cleaned up because, although kittens are cute, the the birthing of kittens is horribly gross. Seriously. Nature is gross. So I cleaned up and settled the kittens into a box covered with a soft towel. Then Mama Cat hopped in and comforted her babies. They climbed all over her and fell asleep in crazy positions. I heard heavy breathing and noticed my two dogs - noses pressed against the glass on the other side of the door. Then the obvious father jumped into the widow sill and peered at his kittens through the screen, meowing softly.

It was a Disney moment.

I'm not going to get anything productive done. Ever.

My Not Normal Cat

Awhile back I stumbled across a cat who was not quite normal. Right away I noticed that she doesn't really use her front right paw. It looks fine and all, but she chooses not to use it. Also, her purr is a bit messed up. It kind of sounds like a lawnmower that doesn't run but tries to. And she is so skinny she looks like string covered in fur. But, best of all, she is polydactyl, which is a fancy way of saying that she has extra toes on her paws. How could I not love her immediately? Extra. Toes.

I let her live in my yard since Makenna transforms into a red-faced mess when cats are around. I fed the skinny, limping cat with extra toes, and I pet her and talked to her and named her Meeka. She is adorable.

I thought I was doing a great job of nursing her to health because her string body began to look more like a rope. Then it looked like a tree branch, and I patted myself on the back. Then it began to look like she had swallowed a balloon, and I realized she was full of kittens. Now she looks like her belly might explode, and she limps around just looking miserable. So I declared that the screened-in porch is hers, and she is queen. She has blankets and food and water, and she sits atop her pillow purring her messed up purr.

Things are about to get exciting.

Trouble in Florida

"I'm sorry the business part of the trip went so badly," I told Mike as we dashed in and out of traffic on our way to the airport. We had spent three stressful days in Florida attempting to complete some business, which ended up being a complete waste of time and effort.
"It's okay," he mumbled, still recovering. "At least we were treated to a theme park. It still makes me laugh that you chose Harry Potter."
"OH MY GOSH, it was one of the best days of my life!"
"You were like a twelve-year-old."
"Thanks for buying me a wand."
"Like I could resist after seeing how giddy you were."
"Do we have to fill the car with gas before turning it back in?"
"Yeah, but we are really pushing it time-wise. If we miss our flight, I might actually sit on the floor and cry."

"There is supposed to be a gas station at the next exit."

There wasn't. And the exit took us ten minutes out of our way before we were able to point our car toward the airport and drive as if we were competing for a NASCAR championship.

"Can you check my emails?" Mike asked handing me his phone. "I don't think I got the usual email reminding us of the departure time, so maybe we leave later than I thought."

I looked at the screen and then I rubbed my eyes and looked again. My mouth formed words, but no sound came out.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked. "Did we miss it? Are we too late?"
"What is the date?" I whispered.
"July 30th."
"In that case, we are two hours and seven days early." I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't help it.
"What?"
"It says our departure is for the same time we thought, but on August 6th."
"What?"
"We totally should have gotten a multiple day pass to Harry Potter."

Obnoxiously Rich

Summer is a time for traveling and bonding as a family. So recently all six of us crammed into Drake's Buick Le Sabre and headed out of town. This car was given to Drake by his great-grandma, and was the one car that would fit the entire family. And I don't mean we all fit in the sense that we all had a seat, I mean it was physically possible to squeeze six bodies into the space. If we had gone for a ride across town that way, it would have been mildly uncomfortable. Going to another state that way gave our chiropractor job security. The car came with a Susan Boyle album stuck in the CD player, so we listened to It's A Perfect Day over and over, and Drake and Josiah - who ride together a lot - knew all the words and sang along.

The discomfort of the car made the comfort of the airplane seem not so bad, and when we landed in Hawaii, no amount of soreness could have wiped the smiles off our faces. We couldn't spin our heads fast enough, taking in all the sights. The first five days, we attacked the island of Kauai like passionate researchers determined to leave no space unexplored. Then our minds accepted the fact that we were on vacation, and we actually began to relax. We hiked to waterfalls, learned to surf, jumped off of cliffs, explored caves, sacrificed our bodies to crushing waves, and, best of all, spent the entire time together.























I fortuitously snapped a picture of the boys getting pummeled by a wave when they clearly didn't expect it. Josiah is mid-sentence, and the back of Drake's head was hit so hard, his hair forms a halo straight out in all directions. The picture of the kids jumping off the cliff gives me heart palpitations.

"Remember when we tried to cancel this trip because we couldn't afford it?" Mike asked on our last evening.
"I'm so glad we came," I said. "We might be paying on it for the next ten years, but this will be one of the memories I replay when I look back on my life."
"It has been perfect."
"I think it is the highlight of my life so far."

We had an amazing trip and saw glorious sights. We were adventurous and lazy.

We were together.

I feel obnoxiously rich from the memories we've created.

Aloha

"Hey," Mike said to me a hundred years ago on our second anniversary, "I got one of those credit cards that gives you flying miles. I think we should use it all the time and save the miles to take a really incredible trip together someday."

"Hey," Mike said to me slightly less than a hundred years ago, "now that we have a baby we should save up our miles and take her on an incredible trip before she graduates."

"Hey," Mike said to me at roughly the same time, "now that we have four kids we should use our credit card a whole lot more and save up as many miles as possible and hope to take an incredible trip with the whole family before they all graduate."

Over a year ago we realized our dream was coming true. By the time Makenna graduated we would have enough miles to take the whole family to Hawaii. We got on the computer and reserved a place to stay and told the butterflies in our stomach to settle down for a year. But life is hard, things go wrong, and times are tough. A few months ago we gave our bank account a stare down and it won. We could not afford our dream trip. We knew we would lose our deposit, but we counted our blessings and told the kids the trip was off.

"I'm calling the rental company in Hawaii," Mike told me with the phone pressed to his ear. "They sent me an email last month asking for a check, but I never sent one since we decided not to go. Then today I got an email saying our reservation is secure and they are expecting us. You didn't send a check did you?"
"No," I answered.
"Oh, hello," Mike said suddenly into the phone. "I gave up my reservation but got an email saying it
was still secure. It shouldn't be because I never sent a check."
"I can see here that your credit card was billed for the remaining balance," Hawaii lady said.
"No, that isn't possible," Mike told her. "The email specifically said not to use a credit card but to send a check. It said our reservation would be lost if a check was not received."
"Actually sir, the email states that a check is preferred and we would rather not use a credit card. However, since your credit card was used for the deposit, we charged it when a check was not received."
"I paid the deposit over a year ago!" Mike said, sweat beading on his forehead. "I didn't know you still had the card on file!"
"If you read the email again, I think you will see that it is clear."
"I'm reading it right now and I… oh," Mike said, deflated. "Okay, I see what you are saying. I just didn't read it that way. Can I just get refunded?"
"I'm sorry sir, but the payment is non refundable. I believe that is stated clearly in the email as well."
"Yes, but…"
"Sir? Are you still there?"
"Well…, …, …, aloha."

Aloha!

Lunchbox

"How long has your dog been missing?" the sheriff asked Makenna over the phone.
"Two days," she answered, teary eyed.
"I'll call if he shows up."
"Thank you."

"I've called the sheriff in Norwalk, Cumming, and Indianola," Makenna told me after hanging up.
"And Dad drove around calling his name for an hour last night," I said.
"If he knows he gets to go for a ride in the car, he will come running from miles away."
"I know. Let's drive around some more."
"Did you call the groomer?" Makenna asked.
"They usually call me whenever he shows up there. But I'll give them a call just incase."

"Hello," I said when the groomer picked up the phone. "You haven't happened to see Arrow have you?"
"He was here about ten minutes ago."
"He was?" I shouted.
"Yeah, we call him Lunchbox because he usually shows up around lunchtime and leaves after he eats."

Makenna and I bolted into her small pick up and drove to the groomer, behind the groomer, around the groomer with our windows down, shouting for Arrow. We offered him rides and treats. But he did not show up. We returned home deflated and sad.

As I was making supper I heard a bark. When I turned around, I saw a naughty husky, tail wagging, asking to come inside. I ran to the door and didn't even care that I coated the doorknob with sticky pizza dough - Arrow was back!

We hugged him and kissed him and told him he was terribly frustrating. We were mad and happy: we were mappy.

We sure do love our Lunchbox. 

Suddenly Sunny

"When do we leave to take your parents and Makenna to the airport?" Mike asked me Sunday afternoon.
"In thirty minutes."
"Why is Makenna going but Emery isn't?"
"Because Emery had to go to color guard camp for school."
"Isn't that over now?"
"Yes, but when they planned their trip they thought they were leaving earlier."
"So why doesn't Emery go along now that the dates work out?"

Emery spent the next twenty-five minutes running around the house throwing swimsuits and T-shirts into a small duffle bag. We arrived at the airport just in time and said a quick goodbye to the travelers. As I was scrounging for money to pay the parking attendant in order to leave the airport, my phone rang.

"Hello," I said, balancing the phone on my shoulder while collecting coins from my glove compartment.
"Why aren't you going to Florida too?" Makenna asked.
"What? When? What do you mean?"
"Emery and I are both going now. Why aren't you?"

Instead of exiting the airport parking lot, I transferred the car to long term parking while my mom bought my plane ticket and Mike rushed home to pack an assortment of my summer things and dash them back to the airport. Forty minutes later, still dressed for church and wondering what I had in my suitcase, I was on a plane headed for Florida.

I grew richer in relationships by giggling with my girls, playing games with my family, and jumping waves with my nieces. The call of the earth resonated inside of me and refreshed the depths of my spirit.

I accompanied my niece, Macy, to the calm ocean cove where fish were plentiful. I sat in the sun while she practically turned into a mermaid.
"Aunt Sharla," she said from behind her square mask, "do you want a turn?"
"No, I don't like snorkeling. All the fish freak me out."
"Aunt, Sharla," she asked twenty minutes later, "it's pretty awesome. Do you want a turn yet?"
"Nope," I assured her I was super content to breath in the salty air and play in the waves.
"Aunt Sharla," she said another twenty minutes later, "it's amazing. Do you want a turn?"
"Okay."

I put on her square mask and timidly braved the scary schools below the surface.

"Oh my word, this is amazing!" I shouted at her twenty minutes later. "I love snorkeling!"
"I knew it," she nodded.

Life turns on a dime.

Window Ninja

We have made for ourselves a challenge: the air conditioner shall be off. And when I say, "we" I mean, "those who pay the electric bill." We are not heartless, we will turn it on eventually. But we have a pond in our back yard in which sweaty kids can easily cool off. And we have a lot of windows.

We like to be responsible financially, but we are also lazy. Some of our windows are high up in a loft and shutting them requires the use of a ladder. Too. Much. Work. Sweating is just easier.

But, Iowa called our bluff. After sweating through the worst of the afternoon, mother nature rolled in a giant storm. There is no storm like the thunderstorms Iowa can produce after a muggy day. It cooled down 15 degrees in less than 5 minutes, and the air smelled like life and health.

But the windows.

Each person was assigned a set of windows to rush and close. I'm not sure why, but we chose Drake to shut the hard ones in the upper echelons of the loft. The poor kid had been sick and spent the day knocked out from NyQuill, but we had no mercy on him. To the loft he obediently ran.

But then he handled that task like a ninja: scaling the wall like a spider, holding himself in the window well by use of muscle alone, and floating down to earth unharmed.

I wonder how he would do it if he wasn't sick and drugged up on NyQuill.

Lost In The Age Gap

The youngest child in a family of four kids has a hard time finding the snacks they love the most. The best snacks are gulped down in a matter of seconds by the strongest and oldest, which is why Emery's birthday list looked more like a grocery list. She had things on there like Poptarts, Mountain Dew, and her all time favorite, Goldfish Crackers.

Imagine her surprise when her grandma gently handed her a gift bag and told her to open it carefully.

"Do you like it?" Grandma asked.

"Um, it's a goldfish," Emery stated.

"I know!" 

"I guess I have a fish now,"Emery said, trying to muster some excitement.

"I know!"

"Did you want me to have a fish?"

"Well," Grandma said, pleased with herself, "it was on your list."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Your mom gave me your list, and it clearly said, 'goldfish.'"

Now her list says things like: Strawberry frosted Poptarts in the box and found in the breakfast aisle, Mountain Dew in cans in the pop aisle, Goldfish Crackers in a box in the snack aisle and made for eating. 

Best Concert

We are in the time of year I call concert-geddon. For kids, it is a time to celebrate their wonderful improvements. For teachers, it is a time to celebrate accomplished goals. For mothers, it is a time to find clothes, locate shoes, iron, and shovel food into kid's bellies at odd times.

Drake had an orchestra concert last week, and I sat in my chair proud that he was wearing the proper clothing.

Then surprising things started happening. Kids carrying pictures of animals began parading back and forth in front of the orchestra. Confused, I consulted the program and saw the title of the song was Carnival of the Animals. I sat taller and realized the parade consisted of kids with special needs, and they each held a picture of a different animal. Then I vaguely remembered Drake mentioning that kids who had special needs had been attending the orchestra practices, and they were all working together to put on this concert.

There were a couple kids who were in wheelchairs; there was one girl who walked exceedingly slow, and there was a girl behind her who was upset by the slow pace and kept yelling at the slow girl. Mostly, though, there were smiles and laughs and proud parents.

As the concert ended, the parade of kids with animal pictures marched down the aisle near me and out the back of the room. Parents are emotional people, so we stood to our feet and clapped loudly. Most of the parade had exited, but one girl remained. From my place near the back, I saw her bubbling excitement in her enormous smile and fidgety hands. She tried, but she just couldn't contain her enthusiasm. She spun around and flung her arms open to receive the applause. Her response was too much for us. We had to cheer and whistle and clap harder. She beamed. We clapped. When it all began to die down, I was able to hear her quiet voice say, "Thank you so much everybody," before she turned around and joined her friends.

Best. Concert. Ever.

No Grandpa!

I've mentioned before that my grandparents are in that hazy stage of life where they forget things like taking their medications, what day it is, and what in the world is going on. My mom visits them in their retirement facility regularly to ensure the important factors of living are attended to, but when she can't visit she has to settle for calling them and checking up on their well-being.

"Mom," she bellowed into the phone, "tell Dad his bath aid will be there tomorrow to help him shave and pick out clean clothes."

After repeating that about six times at continually louder volumes, she hung up only to have the phone ring one minute later.

"Hello," she said.
"Chris," my grandpa said loud enough to be heard from across the room, "what is this I hear about someone coming tomorrow?"
"Yes, your bath aid is coming."
"And I'm supposed to go down to the front door with no clothes on?"
"NO!"
"So? How can you say, 'so' to that? No clothes? It seems wrong."
"I said NO! No, please don't do that!"

Poor bath aid.

Locationally Challenged

"Makenna, where have you been?" I asked my daughter as she walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. "I've been calling for you."
"I climbed out my bedroom window and fell asleep on the roof," she answered.
"Silly me. I didn't think to look for you there."
"It was really warm up there," she explained, as if that answered all my questions.
"Well, do you know where Emery is? It is almost time for supper."
"Yeah, she is sitting on top of the chicken coop reading a book."
"Well, I know that Josiah is at a band practice at school, but I'm almost afraid to ask if you know where Drake is."
"Drake is on the top of the living room chair."
"You mean is is sitting in the chair?"
"No, he's on the top of it - gymnastic like."

And he was.

Why can't anybody be in a reasonable location?

Special

Most of life is mundane: laundry, meetings, organizing, oil changes, etc. Every once in a rare while, something comes along that is special - a moment in time that rises above others and is unlikely to be forgotten.

When you combine that special moment with some special people, it is magical.

My church puts on an Easter Egg hunt for the kids in our city who have special needs. These children have a hard time participating in such activities for several reasons: they might have a visual impairment so they are unable to see the eggs, they might have a mobility impairment so they are unable to crawl around and find the eggs, they might have a disability that makes it challenging for them to be in loud crowds, or they might simply be unable to compete with children who are faster and more nimble.

We want these kids to participate in an Easter Egg hunt where those concerns are not limiting.

I cannot describe the feeling that overtakes your heart as you watch kids in wheel chairs use a magnetized wand to pick up eggs with a magnet inside. Everything inside of you changes a little bit when you watch kids who can't see crawl around and use their hearing to search and find eggs that are beeping. The pride on their faces for having completed the challenge all by themselves is more beautiful and touching than all the art hung on the walls of the Met.

An event like this takes a year of planning and hundreds of volunteers. I was humbled by the generosity of our church, our community, and those who gave up their time to participate. But what really brought tears rolling down my cheeks was watching the teenagers who volunteered selflessly and gladly served wherever they were needed. They stuffed eggs, served food, cleaned up, answered questions, laughed, but, most of all, they treated the egg hunters the same as they treated their other friends - normal.

It was special.

Grandpa Said?

Memory loss is a terrifying and frustrating thing. But, it can also be hilarious.

My mom got a phone call that went something like this:

"Chris, talk to your father. He doesn't recognize me." Then she waited while there was much muffling the phone and shouting about who should hold it.

"Hello?" Grandpa finally barked into the receiver.
"Hi Dad. What's the problem?"
"Who is this woman?"
"It's Mom."
"Is she here to give me a haircut or something?"
"No, it's Mom."
"Is she a nurse?"
"No, she's your wife!"
"Oh, that's a relief!" he sighed. "She was in my bed, but I guess it's all on the up and up."

Church Prank

As a family, we make it a point to regularly attend church.

My daughter looks sweet and cute, but she has a dark gift that I suffer from on those rare occasions I have to miss a Sunday service: she fills out a volunteer card in my name and signs me up for everything. She has volunteered me for nursery duty, softball, technology thingy, and men's Bible study. I just get a picture of the card with all the boxes checked.

I don't miss church often.

Oh Dear.

"Are we concerned about Drake's habit of climbing things?" I asked Mike as we waited for our table at the restaurant. We had taken the kids on a short getaway in the Ozarks for spring break, and the day was finally sunny so we opted to wait outside.
"Should we be?"
"Well, it seems dangerous."
"Kids like to climb. It's normal."
"Yeah, but I saw a picture on Instagram of him at the top of a flag pole."
"How did he climb a flag pole?"
"With his incredible arm strength and low body fat."
"Impressive."
"He also told me that he climbed all the elementary schools in West Des Moines one night last week."
"He'll get in trouble if he gets caught doing that."
"He might also get hurt."
"Mom!" Drake shouted. "Look!"
I looked around but couldn't see him anywhere.
"Where are you?" I shouted.
"Look up," his voice said from the rafters of an antique store Mike and I were walking past.
"I'm beginning to see what you mean," Mike said.

Tail of Trouble

Since it was well below freezing outside, I was surprised to hear excited voices coming from the neighbor's yard. Nobody wants to play outside when breathing causes frostbite of the lungs. So, out of curiosity, I peeked out my window to see who would be risking death and amputation of limb to play outdoors.

Then I saw three people standing by their car screaming and wildly waving their arms.

"Are they fighting?" I thought. And then I played out what my role would be if my neighbors were brawling with each other. Should I run to their driveway and plead for peace? But since we live in the country their driveway is quite a long run away from my house. Should I call the police? Then I opened my curtain and looked closer.

Just as I determined that these violent people were too far gone for my help, a silver fluffy tail protruded from the driver's side window.

"Get out of my car!" a frantic girl screamed. "Go home!!

My dog loves car rides.

My dog is on the gigantic side.

It is nearly impossible to extract him from a car once he is inside.

And he is usually muddy.

I am not proud.

Balloon Injury

Things are pretty predictable without siblings.

Makenna got all dressed up and went to homecoming. The couple looked glamorous and gorgeous.

When the glamorous couple returned, they brought a bunch of balloons from the dance with them. Within a nanosecond the balloons were confiscated by Makenna's brothers and their friends, and a game of popping the balloons commenced.

However the balloons did not pop as easily as you might expect. So, Drake, who was of course sporting bright red hair, decided to crush the balloons with his body and pop them all at once. But they did not pop under the weight of his body, red hair and all. So his friend, Jacob, helped out by adding his weight to the balloon crushing experience.

Drake soon learned that when balloons are crushed in such a way, they leave a mysterious injury of horizontal red scrapes that cover the skin from armpit to waist.




I had a lot of questions: Why do boys have to destroy things? Why are balloons so hard to pop? Why do they have to make such a terrifying noise when they pop? How does a person receive an injury from a soft, round balloon? Lucky, those aren't the questions I asked out loud.


"Drake, does that hurt?"
"Yeah, a lot," he answered.
"Maybe you shouldn't do that anymore."
"Oh," he told me, "it's totally worth it." 

Snowday Story in Pictures

Once upon a time, some children lived in a frozen land where they experienced way too many snow days. Since they were not worn out from going to school, their parents ordered challenged them to go outside and build snowmen. So they did. Two boys were the first to leave the warmth of the house and brave the cold outdoors - one in shorts and the other in pajamas.

But soon, one boy got distracted because there was a tree.

That is all it took.

Just a tree that was.

The other kids were upset and decided to pelt Distracted Boy with snowballs.

Distracted Boy pelted back.















But it didn't matter because there was still a tree.

And that is all it took.

Blue Valentine Redo

Although we laughed our way through our Valentine's Day date
that we hated, our sweet daughter, Makenna, was not okay with that. She gave us a redo.

She picked out songs and played them for us as we danced in the kitchen, and then she presented us with tickets to see the Blue Man Group.

Because we are us and not regular people, we arrived to the show with only one minute to spare. We ran through the doors and showed the ticket warden our tickets. She then yelled, "We've got latecomers! They'll never get to their seats in time!!" Then another ticket warden rushed us across the front of the stage to the opposite side of the auditorium, which is where our seats were located. Then we were told to go directly to our seats and sit as quickly as humans are able to do so.

The show began with humor and continued on with musical gymnastics and impressive percussion. The Blue Men were quite funny, and we laughed for most of the show. Then, at the end, about ten gigantic, cloth balls were brought onto the stage. They began white, but changed colors as they were drummed upon. Then they were shoved off of the stage and into the audience, where we bounced the balls, which kept changing their color, back and forth across the people.

Then we returned home to our wonderful children and helped them finish up their homework, gave a sick one some cold medicine, and tucked them all into bed. And it was no less fun. 

Hated Valentines

It's hard to squeeze a sweet Valentines Date into the parenting of four teenagers. But we made a valiant effort. I prepared food for the kids to scarf down, hopefully without too much damage to the kitchen. I showered and applied make-up and was actually ready by the time my dear husband was to be done working.

But it snowed. Which meant Mike had to plow. Which meant he was late getting home.

"Should we leave?" he asked, still in his work clothes.
"Well, we missed our reservations, so we will have a hard time finding a restaurant that doesn't have a huge wait."
"We could go to the movie first," he suggested.
"The movie is apparently horrible," I said quietly, hating to impart more bad news.
"How do you know?"
"The reviews are the lowest I've ever seen, and my friends who saw it told me they hated it."

We both looked at each other with frustration and dread. It was obvious we were both thinking we should just give up and stay home. The universe had spoken.

"I don't think we should give in, dang it," Mike stated. "It's Valentine's Day, and we are going to celebrate love no matter what."
"Okay," I said encouraged.
"But what do you want to do?"
"Let's just go to the bad movie that we are going to hate," I said. "In fact, let's make that the theme of the date. Everything we do has to be something we hate."

So we went to the mall because it was crowded and we hate that. We walked in the cold from the very back of the parking lot which was terrible.

"Two of us," Mike told the hostess at the Cheesecake Factory, where they recently stopped serving the only kind of cheesecake I've ever liked.
"It will be at least forty-five minutes before a table is open," the hostess said with a frown.
"Great!" We said, "We hate waiting!"

We walked around the crowded mall and laughed as we kept getting separated from each other. We ordered food we thought we wouldn't like, and laughed when we actually loved it. And we watched the movie, which really was terrible.

Halfway through the movie Mike started sneezing and coughing. By the end of the movie he was shivering and sweating at the same time. He took the theme of the date and really went with it. He was asleep before I drove into the garage, and slept until lunch the next day.

What a Valentine I've got!

New York

I recently had the great fortune to travel to New York with my daughter, my dad, and my brother. We hit the ground running and never stopped. Even on the second day, when New York was hit by a blizzard, we kept running. We sloshed through icy puddles from dawn until way too late. We returned to the hotel three times to wring out our socks in the shower and dry our shoes with my hairdryer.

We visited Times Square on the eve of the Superbowl, ate from street vendors, climbed to the top of the Empire State building, saw a terrible movie at an artsy theater, conquered the subway system, visited the major sights, and ended each day with treats at an Italian bakery. Yes, treats each day.

Looking at our list we realized the only thing we hadn't experienced was a Broadway play. We were newly dry in our hairdryer blown shoes, and I had borrowed a pair of socks from my dad and pulled them up to my knees. We decided on one play we were all willing to see and pulled our scarves around our heads as we set out in the worst of the blizzard to obtain tickets. On the train we discussed it and decided we only wanted to buy the tickets if we could find a good deal and if four tickets were available together to the one and only play we had all agreed on. By the time we got to the discount ticket booth, we were soggy, shivering, and wiping the drips from our wet hair off of our cheeks before they froze there.

"Hi," I said to the man behind the glass at the ticket booth. "What do you have available for tonight?"
He told me that they had four tickets to the play we wanted to see and they were fifty percent off.
"Hmm," I told him. And then I walked away.

"Did you get the tickets?" Dad asked.
"I don't think I'm a Broadway person," I said.
"I would hate every minute of it," he said.
"I don't care if we go or not," Emery said.
"I fell asleep in the last two Broadway plays I tried to watch," my brother told me.

So we left empty handed and shivered ourselves to the Brooklyn Bridge instead and ended up eating at Katz's Deli where we were treated like tourists by our New York waiter. It was perfect.

With blisters on our feet and wet clothes shoved into our carry-ons, we boarded our plane home. Home was experiencing a severe blizzard, and I felt like an aeronautical cowboy as we landed in a windy whiteout.

I wouldn't change a thing about it.

Thank you New York!