The Busiest Months of Our Lives

They say there are five major stresses in a person’s life:

1. Change in marital status
2. Moving
3. Changing jobs
4. Birth/addition of a child
5. Death of a loved one

In the spring of 1996 I had all but one of those stresses at the same time.  Within the span of six weeks I got married, moved across town, changed jobs and lost my grandmother.   I was a prime candidate for The Crazy House.  The only thing that kept me out of the loony bin was the fact that I was not pregnant at the time.  I’m sure we can all agree: that would have sealed the deal.

And yet 1996 had nothing on this summer that is now winding down.  Building, selling, making home repairs.  Call the builder; call the real estate office; call the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker… I forget who I am most days, and the sticky-notes and phone reminders that I set for myself are little help if I can’t even remember to look in the direction of said reminders.  I need reminders for my reminders for my reminders.  So it struck me as odd, as I stood in my kitchen one morning in July with my builder (yes, at the old house…long story that you can bore yourself with here) when I paused long enough to notice our family calendar on the refrigerator.  It was pretty bare during July, save the lone pen marks of my husband as he counted the days he has been smoke-free.

Dom quit smoking 219 days ago – right as we were gearing up to sell the house and dive head-first into building the new one.  Not the most desirable time to drop a vice cold-turkey, but then again I am of the mindset that NO TIME is a bad time to take control of your health for the better. I am soooooo proud of him!  I’ve wanted to shout it from the rooftops and sky-write congratulatory love notes, but he’s a pretty private person so I had to celebrate in silence.  And I was even tempted to leave the calendar alone and let it speak for itself. But…

Calendars are my diary.  Aside from my blogs, they are the only form of journaling or scrapbooking I do anymore.  I have kept wall calendars since my college days.  Even as I matriculated into electronic calendars (and yes, even as I chastise co-workers for using paper calendars) I always kept one hard copy calendar on the fridge at home.  This is where I mark the random stuff we do – the birthdays, the celebrations, the memories and the milestones.  The good, the bad and the ugly.  It’s all right there, and all I have to do is pull a calendar out of the box and flip through twelve simple pages to relive an entire year in my mind.

My favorite calendar now is Mom’s Family Calendar featuring the lovable critters of Sandra Boynton.  Each person has his or her own column in which to record activities.  Our family of four reserves the fifth column for the pups and any extended family birthdays.  It’s a 17-month calendar, starting in August for the new school year, which is really a great idea, even though I only remember to buy a new one in December when I’m Christmas shopping.  Plus, this calendar always comes with a ton of cute character stickers and a magnetized write-on/wipe-off board for important phone numbers, etc.  Oh, and an interior pocket “for loose $100 bills.”  I love that.  I keep looking in there hoping one or two bills have appeared.  No luck yet.

July and August wound up being perhaps the busiest months of our lives.  In the end, I decided if I didn’t mark it all down I would regret it later.  So I grabbed some Sharpies and a few stickers and “went to town” inscribing our activities for the summer and the milestones, stresses and successes 2012 has brought us so far.

I hope your summer was wonderful!

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Day 335: Happy Mothers’ Day

Today my Mom and I celebrate Mothers’ Day.  I know what you’re thinking…Mothers’ Day was last Sunday.  Well, for the rest of the world, it was.  For me and my Mom, it is today.

My Mom’s mom, my grandmother, passed away on the Tuesday after Mothers’ Day in 1996, just two weeks before my wedding.  We knew she was ill, and we knew she probably wouldn’t be able to make it to Louisiana for my wedding.  As Mom and I sat at the computer working up some idea for flowers, tulle, or some other “weddin’ nonsense,” my Aunt Linda called.  I heard Mom’s voice crack as she asked, “Oh, no, Linda, is she gone?”  The rest of her conversation is a blur to me, but I vividly remember that when she hung up the phone, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “This is Mother’s Day.”

It was May 14.

And so, not to be all sad and creepy or anything, Mom and I celebrate Mothers’ Day on the 14^th of May each year.  If it’s a weekday, I take off work so we can spend it together.  We usually go shopping or hang out and drink hot tea and watch some chic-flick she has DVR’d. We have only missed one day in 15 years – that was the day of a horrible flooding rain in Shreveport.  I called Mom that morning, upset at the thought of breaking our tradition because I had three inches of water in my garden room, and with even more rain coming down there was no end in sight.  I remember squalling, “I took off work to be with you and I can’t even get to you!!!”  We spent the day on the phone, between my bouts with the wet-vac and more towels than I cared to count.  😉

Unfortunately, today will be the second time in these fifteen years that we will not spend May 14^th together.  I teach the 2^nd grade First Communion class at my church, and 29 of those precious children are making their First Reconciliation this morning in preparation for First Communion tomorrow.  Essentially, duty calls, and luckily my Mom is incredibly understanding.  We have plans to hang out together later this week to make up for today.  We will shop and dream and chat…and enjoy the Cardinals that flit across our path. 

I love you bunches, Mom.

Me, my Grandmother and Mom 1974

Day 189: Finding My Way Back

After this past week’s unplanned break I am slowly climbing back in the saddle.  The awful virus that wiped out me and Dom simultaneously has graciously spared the kids.  Thanks to you all for well-wishes and check-ins.  As Gloria Gaynor once said, “I will survive.”

I hate to miss a party, and all because of this damn virus I missed three! One of which was to be hosted at my home, and resulted in an SOS email to a ton of people begging forgiveness for my illness.  As I lay in bed Thursday night, my head splitting open (or so it seemed.  Hey, I can be dramatic if I want…) I heard ladies approaching my door, unaware of the last minute change in plans.  I managed to get Dom to the door, since he was more dressed than I, but I could not manage the strength to write out a note redirecting folks to the new party location.  And with a doorbell that doesn’t ring (don’t even ask) I have no idea how many more people came to my door, turned away confused, and drove back home – like me only in the sense that they, too, were sadly missing the party. 

Being sick sucks.

During the four days that I spent in bed I would periodically roll over and think to myself, “I need to write about_____.” Sometimes, I would even craft a paragraph or two in my head.  Those brilliant ideas were likely washed out with the sheets, so it may take me a little while to get going again.  I made it back to work today, though I felt like I was steering my way through a strange haze.  And I wasn’t even medicated!

Now that I have formally declared my continued existence, the next couple of days will be spent resolving the television issue. 

Why is it always something?

Day 183: The Wheels Keep Turning

I’ve been out of touch for a couple of days, but I haven’t been too far away.  We have three parties scheduled this week: one that I’m decorating, one that I’m hosting, and one to which I am bringing a cheese ball.

You would LOVE this cheese ball.

For the decorating, I get a chance to be creative – resulting in my hands hurting from an hour of making paper cutouts.   But the decorations are as cute as I wanted them to be, so it’s all worth it.  Plus, I get to step back into my role as cake decorator (I do this on very limited occasions when I consider the event too special to trust to anyone else’s cakes.  I’m a wee bit territorial like that!)  Some people – um, that would be Jessica – are special enough to warrant the extra work.  Suffice it to say that this will be a rockin’ baby shower!

For the party I’m hosting, I have scheduled a carpet cleaning for tomorrow afternoon, amid the cake decorating and party-favor-fashioning.  I will face myself in the mirror tomorrow and wonder what the hell I was thinking when I scheduled this.  But then evening will come too soon, and by then I hope to have clean, dry, fresh-smelling carpets ready for Thursday’s party. 

And then I’ll make the cheese ball. 

See??? It’s all about schedules.  Heh heh heh…

Day 125: Enough Already!

For the third weekend in a row, we have overscheduled ourselves to the point of frustration.  The scheduled events have all taken place outside the home, so nothing inside the home has been tended in our customary fashion.  In fact, as I type this shortly before midnight on Sunday, I realize that I have not laundered my dress clothes that I wear to work – my LINE DRY dress clothes.  Suffice it to say that next on my ToDo list before I hit the pillow is figure out if I stand any chance of being decently clothed tomorrow. 

I fully intended to have some great follow-up today, but I’m still chasing my own tail, so the follow-ups will have to wait until next weekend…when I can hopefully also get some well-deserved rest.

Day 70: Look Who’s Teaching

One thing I never, ever, ever thought I would do is teach a class. When I was younger and fellow students would ask me to explain the assignments to them, I failed miserably. I never was able to break it down to an understandable level for the other person. I always started out at the level of MY understanding, and that just left the fellow student bewildered. No, for the sake of anyone who would ever know me, I would never be caught teaching.

Have I ever before mentioned my asinine use of the word “never?” It seems almost everything that I verbalize, “Oh, I’ll NEVER do that,” eventually happens. I hate eating my words.

But here I go, entering my second year of teaching the 2nd Grade First Communion class at my church. Contrary to what anyone else says, I view my efforts last year as a complete flop. Oh, I managed to make the best of it and end the year with a genuine feeling of love and pride for twenty-nine children I did not previously know. Not to mention my own daughter was in the class, a situation any sane individual would avoid altogether. So between that, my fall case of shingles, and an emotional breakdown on the Big Day, I really felt like I had somehow botched the whole experience.

As a matter of reconciling myself to the task, I am prepared to make every effort for this year to be 100% better than last year. The first thing I realize I must do is prepare the lessons. (Yeah, that one seems like a no-brainer. But remember the intro to this where I said I was not cut out for teaching? I rest my case.) I am also going to plan some craft activities with the ideas my friend Mickey gave me last year. And, as I realized at the end of last year, I must do a better job of communicating with the parents.

My goal is three-fold here, and these may be fleshed out in later days. For now:

1. I plan to have Dom pick the kids up from PSR so that they can get to bed on time, and I can have a few extra minutes (or thirty) to talk with my co-teacher. This should alleviate the problem of neither teacher knowing what the other is thinking. (Welcome to the plan, honey. Sorry to spring it on you this way.)

2. I need one evening a week to detail the plans of the next lesson, and to prepare any parent communication to be sent with the children. Sunday seems like the best day to do this.

3. At some point soon, I sincerely hope to have the PSR website up and running so that anyone can get information on our program and classes when they need it. I think I will need to update it on Wednesdays after classes so that any new information is immediately available and pertinent.

There it is, folks. The Big Plan. Here’s hoping I can pull it off, and that this year will be better than the last.