You know the commercial...

....where it's the dad and the little boy having a sword fight trying to rescue the princess.  The fair maiden is actually the little sister sleeping in her mother's arms.   It's definitely one of those "Awww" moments when at the end the announcer talks about making time for family. 








 ...and I've been thinking about how time is always relative to where we are and what we are doing in life.  Time to Emry is too long if she has to wait until after dinner for dessert.  Cameron just doesn't understand that his daddy will be home soon, but not yet.   Time for Lauren is, once again, governed by semesters.  Time for Aubrey is school start and school end.  For Shay it's fun to think about the time after residency.








...but time to my mom is completely different.  She's not talking about tomorrow much any more. Although she did ask if she would live long enough to make a new quilt and she said she wants to live long enough to see the kitchen completed. 








Yes, I said, she better so we can roll out pies together on the granite counter top.








...so when D. came by Sunday afternoon, she took the time to do grandma's nails.

Today Danielle took time into her own hands...






...and made good use of it.




Oh, yeah, and you can see the whole swashbuckling action for yourself HERE.

Don't go...

...she pleads with me.  Please don't go to church today...I don't want to be alone.


I won't leave you...I promise her...


...but will you stay with me, I ask myself?

Laughter...

...truly can be the best medicine.




...and thanks to Caleb and Lala, Grandma Great got a healthy dose this past week when they spent several hours in her room.




...they will never know the joy I felt when I downloaded pictures today and found these on my memory card.

(the picture below may be one of my favorite pictures ever, I love her hands...)

 (don't be concerned, she's not crying in this picture, when my mother laughs really hard, she cries...that's just her and I've finally come to love it after being scared to death as a kid, thinking my mother was finally going off the deep end)

...it was so awesome to find those on my memory card.



...my memory card...




...my memory card...



...my memory card...




I want to remember everything, the color of her green eyes, her Kansas drawl, the way she gets frustrated with all of us talking at the same time and then she will ask,  "Can I say something...please?"    She always adds ice to her steaming cup of coffee and she loves salt, salt on everything, including watermelon!!!! 




I want to put everything about her on to my own personal memory card that I can pull out at a moments notice, when I'm feeling down or lonely and missing her like the dickens.  I want to have everything about her saved in my mind...






...on my memory card.

I didn't know what to expect....

...when my mother called me to come into her room this morning.



I immediately recognized a change.  She was dressed for the first time in weeks, her hair was combed and she had color in her cheeks.  The smell of coffee hung in the air.



...she's back, I thought.

...and then she asked...



...do you think I will live long enough to make another yo-yo quilt.



...yes, I said...



...let's just plan on it.

The day before...

...my dad's funeral I ran away.  My mother's home was filled with family and friends, noise and food.  If you needed company, that was the place to be.


...I needed quiet...


...I slipped away without telling anyone.  I got in my dad's pickup and drove to the mortuary.  I was the first one to drive his truck after he came home from the farm the previous Saturday, just hours prior to his death.  The tractor batteries were still in the back and his gloves were on the seat next to me.  His toolbox, clean and perfectly organized as always was on the floor of the passenger's side.


...the air smelled of a mixture of diesel fuel and Old Spice...


...it smelled like my daddy.


When I walked into the viewing chapel of the mortuary a woman I wasn't familiar with was sitting there.  I introduced myself, she expressed condolences and quickly excused herself saying she would let me have some time alone with daddy. 


...(here I go again, being all sad and morbid, but that's not really where I'm headed, so keep reading, it will get better, I promise) (well, I shouldn't really promise, because when I start writing, I never really know where I'm headed, but I'm hoping for a happy ending)...


...anyway...


I sat there for awhile listening to soft background music, thinking about everything, trying to figure out what I could do to help my mother.  I finally walked over and stood by daddy.  I looked at him closely.  I wanted to remember everything about him.  I especially wanted to remember his hands and how mine are the same shape as his.  His fingernails were always clean, even though he worked hard with his hands all his life.  His nose, some might have called it a large Greek nose, but to me, it was him.  His hair, his lips, his ears, just trying to make sure I knew and could always remember him.


...and it was while I was standing there that I thanked him for all he had done for me and I told him I would take care of mother for the rest of her life.  Of course, I didn't know then that she already had breast cancer, but it wouldn't have mattered, I knew I would do whatever it took.  It was the following week that she had surgery and was diagnosed.  As a result I traveled back and forth to Kansas every other month to help her, leaving Danielle, still in high school, and Lauren, in junior high, at home with Matthew.


It was probably harder on them than me to have me gone so much.  D. was in charge of the cooking.  Lauren was in charge of cleaning.  Matthew did everything else.  They managed to keep it together.


...it was Matthew that paid the ultimate price.


I was so lucky 35 years ago that I married the man I did.  My life has been blessed everyday, my children's lives have been blessed, my grandchildren are blessed and now my mother has been blessed for the gift Matthew continues to be for all of us.


...thank you Matthew for your love and support.

If you haven't laughed...

...today...




check this out!

CLICK HERE FOR A GOOD DOSE OF HAPPINESS!!!

I was somewhere between...

...emptying my mother's trash and putting away her laundry when I overheard a conversation between my mother and her hospice nurse, Melissa.



I have to admit, I eavesdropped on their conversation...



...and I'm glad I did.



When Melissa arrived Monday, I told her that I felt like my mother had an incident Sunday evening, possibly a stroke.  So when Melissa went upstairs to check on her, I knew she was just doing a mental evaluation, but the questions she asked were questions I have wanted to ask my mother my whole life.  Melissa, who has only known my mother for a few short weeks, had the grace and the strength to ask her how she felt about dying and if she believed in an after-life?



...maybe I should explain a little bit of the history...



One summer I got caught up with a group of kids in my hometown and attended a Christian Church summer revival camp.  I had a wonderful time and was voted camper of the year, with the understanding I would attend the following summer.  I had no idea what would happen in the following 12 months, but that's another story...



The weekend I arrived home from the camp in Ashland, I asked if we could bless the food at dinner that afternoon (in KS, dinner is the noon time meal and supper is the evening meal, not that that matters to the story, just thought you'd like to know).  When I asked, my mother jumped up from the table and ran out the back door crying.  I looked at my dad, who quickly took another bite of his fried potatoes, a piece of onion dangling from his fork like a wet worm. (maybe that was a little too graphic, sorry, that's just the way I remember it, funny how those things come back to me)



I never tried that one again.



...so basically, I haven't discussed religion with my mother at all since then, not that we really had a discussion that afternoon, it was more like a...well, I don't know what to call it, but suffice it to say God never really ever came up again after that.



...but when Melissa started questioning her, I stopped dead in my tracks, listening.  




...and this is kind of how the conversation went...


Melissa:  How are you Marie?

Mother:  Oh, I'm OK.

Melissa:  Are you in pain?

Mother:  No, not really, I'm just so tired and weak.  I can't eat.  I don't even want to eat.

Melissa:  That's a sign that your heart is growing weaker and as you get closer to the end of your life it will become even more so.  Are you prepared for that?

Mother:  What?

Melissa(speaking louder):  Your heart is growing weaker.  Are you OK with dying?

Mother:  Oh, I guess so.

Melissa:  Do you have any regrets?

Mother:  No I didn't eat nuggets.  I told you I'm not hungry. (Andy and Mike, stop laughing)

Melissa(speaking even louder now):  Do you have any REGRETS?

Mother: No.

Melissa:  Do you believe in an after-life?

Mother:  Well, I like to think there is something after all of this.

Melissa: So do I.  Do you believe you will be with your family after this life?

Mother:  I hope so.  Kaylee thinks I will.


...and there you have it.  All this time I thought my mother didn't know what I believed or if I really believed in anything, but apparently she has been watching and listening.


...thank you, Melissa, for doing what I haven't had the courage to do.

We are somewhere between...

...Madison and Porter's birthdays...




...and I'm grateful for the chance to blog about a happy thought(I'm afraid my blog has not been very cheery lately, so it's time to lighten the mood with some fun pictures of the cutest kids ever)...




...and here are two of them...




The day Porter was born, we were all thrilled, but Preston more than anyone else.  We finally had another boy in the family.  




I remember walking into the NICU at LDS hospital and the reverent experience it was to see this tiny little guy hooked up to some really scary looking machines.  I remember thinking how perfect he looked and that I just wanted to wrap him up and hold him as close to my heart as I could.  It doesn't matter how many grandchildren we have, the first time I hold one of them, there is magic.  Maybe magic isn't the right word...it's more like perfect love.  The kind of love that Jesus taught us about, the kind of love that makes us willing to give everything to protect this little baby.






His mom and dad were thrilled.  The first time I went to their apartment after Porter came home from the hospital, Andy was carrying him around on a pillow.  If the front door was left open too long, Andy would yell at us to shut it (well, that's not exactly true, because everyone was whispering...Andy didn't want him to hear loud noises, which can be a REALLY big problem in our family, especially when we all get together to celebrate something as exciting as a newborn baby).  But it was all fine with me, because I knew it just meant that I wasn't the only one that felt that "magic".  Andy and Shay were head over heels in love with this blue eyed wonder.  I knew that Porter would always be loved and protected...and that is true joy, to see my children loving their own children.




...Shay told me last week that Porter was making the girls squeal by teasing them and being a goof ball (love that word, because I remember referring to Porter's dad by the same term).  Shay finally, after getting tired of all the noise, asked Porter to CALM down.  Porter, with what I assume is a look much like the first picture below, said,  "But mom, I can't help it if I'm funny!"






No, Porter, you can't help being funny, and I love it...and I love you.

Madison is my birthday girl, born just one day before my birthday.  She was a gorgeous baby with tons of long dark hair.  The nursery nurses at Lakeview hospital had a fun time playing with her hair.  Every time they brought her back to her mom, she would have a new bow. 




She is my first granddaughter, which was really great, because the Coil girl's needed a baby to decorate.  Really, they wanted to decorate her...Lauren and D. loved to go shopping for her and then try the new outfits on her, one after another.  I know she never really wore everything we bought, but she did try them all on...well, actually D. and Lala tried everything on her.




Madison was a daddy's girl and I think it was hardest on her when Chris left for Iraq.  She sacrificed a lot for our country before she was even 3 years old.  She missed him, but she also showed us how much spunk she had.  She was determined to have fun even in spite of his absence. 




She's one determined little girl(sorry about that Maddie, I meant to say she's one determined young woman).  The world better watch out, because if she decides she's going to do something, it's going to happen.  I've seen her be tender and gentle with a newborn one minute and then laughing and chasing around her Uncle Jake the next.  They have a way of teasing each other that drives all of us crazy.




She's figuring out what life is all about, and the way I figure it, life is just a lot more fun with Madison in it.  




...I love you Madison and I love watching you become a beautiful young woman.

...so a BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my other two January grandbabies...


...love you to the moon and back...

...now, wasn't that a happy post?

Following my dad's death...

...I kept asking Michael if my dad was scared at the end?  I needed to know that he had just slipped from here to there without hesitation.  My motive for asking was really selfish, knowing it was easy for him made it easier for me.



I don't feel sorry for myself that I'm losing my mother, but I fear my reaction if my mother becomes frightened at the end.  I want to, no, have to be strong for her.  If I'm not, she will leave feeling worried about me.  She will be afraid that I'm not OK.  She will be sad and that's what I'm most afraid of happening.



I can hear an extra note of cheeriness in my children's voices.  They are all trying so hard to make it easier for me.  Matthew, too, talking, he just keeps talking, about the kitchen, about work, about the temple, about anything...just keep talking, because he helps me stay grounded and keeps me focused(the talk is good and I love him for it).



My friends are calling, worried about me.  My dear friend Lauren in Maryland called today.  Stephanie, at work, is watching, ready to take over and send me home if I need to leave.  Dr. D, as usual, is patient, understanding, never demanding.   They all seem to understand that sometimes I just need to be quiet, even if it is uncomfortable for them.  They are why I love my job, the people that care for me.


..and I have others, Mary Kay, Lynette, Dixie, Mardi all ready to come or just to listen.



 I'm grateful for what they are trying to do.  I can't imagine how difficult it would be to do this alone. 



..but I think I realize that eventually this is up to me, to walk through this experience alone, to have the courage to tell my mother she can go and that I am ready to let her leave. 



I don't know when I will be ready...



...I just hope I am...


...before she decides to go.

I hate crying...

...it gives me a headache...


...stupid headache (and I don't care if my grandkids read that!)


...on a much lighter note...


...my mother has a new friend...

...but my friend is the same old one...

Do you know the significance of this last post dated Jan. 22?

This is Matthew and it is Sunday morning.  Do you realize that the previous post was written on Kaylee's birthday?  She spent much of that night sitting beside her mother watching over her and wondering if there was more that she should be doing?


Marie has been sick, very sick, so sick, that for the first time since they started, hospice came on Saturday and stayed a long time.

This is the 35th birthday that I have shared with Kaylee.  She had a busy day of buying her new counter tops from Francinni's granite, a grand experience that she can write about another day.  She bought a new kitchen sink, a 70/30 black granite composite that will look wonderful in her new kitchen.  She picked out her new paint for the kitchen, chocolate truffel, yes, really she is going to paint in chocolate colors in her kitchen, it will be wonderful.  She probably considered just using Hershey syrup, but paint is cheaper.  I took Kaylee to her favorite french cafe/bakery  for lunch, she ordered her usual cheese sandwich on pannini.  We then met Aubrey, Chris, Mike and Erin and Lauren and Caleb at the movie, True Grit.  As we drove home after a long and very busy day I asked Kaylee in the dark if she at any time during the day had not been thinking about her mother?  She answered so softly, "I am always thinking about her."  It is true.

Seven years ago Marie was visiting with us in Centerville.  She had been widowed for over a year.  She came for Thanksgiving, we agreed she would stay until Valentine's day.  It was Valentine week-end and we were sitting around the kitchen table.
I said, "well, Marie, I guess it is about time to take you home to Dodge City."
Marie started to cry.  I asked what was wrong, she said she did not want to leave, she wanted to stay with us.
"How long?" I asked.
"Until I die" she replied.
I said, without looking at Kaylee or discussing my answer with anyone, "Marie, you can stay with us until the day you die."
There, it was done, without knowing what was ahead I committed to care for my mother-in-law until the day she died.  That day is coming.

The past seven years have been far better than I could have ever scripted.  Four generations in one house has taught all of us sooo much.  I treasure most the times on the front porch, all of us in rocking chairs, listening to the birds trying to mimic my whistle, or watching the swing and whoever was in it.  The meals on the patio were great times, as were the meals in the dining room. 
I think we did it, we cared for Marie and at the same time she taught us all so much about ourselves, "Honor thy Father and thy Mother..."
Marie is better this morning, the hourly morphine seems to be dulling the headache and chest pain and dizzyness and shortness of breath.  Even though her voice is hoarse and raspy, weak and feeble, the words are still so clear.  She surprised us by getting out of bed and taking two steps to sit in her rocking chair.  She then told me "I can't go any farther, I am so weak." I know she meant she could not take the extra few steps to her little refrigerator or to the bathroom, but really she was thinking her life is about over and she cannot go much further.
Marie, it has been a great life, and a treat to care for you and be with you.  Hang on just a little longer, the birds will come back and we can sit on the front porch and laugh at the baby quail that are too small to hop over the curb.

Maybe Preston, Madison, Abigail, Luke, Emery, Amelia, Samantha, Cameron or Logan will do or say something funny and we will all laugh with you at how much we love being together.  Porter may Skype us and we can watch Carlee or Tessa or Marin entertain us.  Hang on Marie, Spring is coming.

I haven't been brave enough...

yet to tell anyone how much courage I didn't have last night...


I needed time to think it through, to try and understand what was said and maybe, most importantly, what wasn't said.


It was a little after 4:00 a.m. when I went to check on her last night.  It's the same ritual now, I lay in the dark thinking about her knowing that I won't sleep again until I go to her.  I entered her room and watched for the rising of her chest.  In the dark, I can barely make it out, shallow breaths, but breathing none-the-less.  I sit in the chair at her bedside and look at her, her hair is white as winter snow, thick and wavy.  Her hand lies across the comforter, the skin scarred, the veins raised.  The hands that crocheted hundreds of hats for children she didn't know, the hands that made thousands of cloth yo-yo quilts for her grandchildren and their spouses.  Hands that can roll out a pie or drive a tractor better than most men are the hands that I know.  The hands that permed my hair, brought me bowls of chicken and noodles with mashed potatoes (a Covey-Bush family favorite) are now swollen with arthritis.  Hands that held my dad's hands.  Hands that held me as an infant.  Those hands have given to others, because they are guided by her heart. 


She stirs and rolls over, her eyes open, taking in the room and then she sees me in the dark.  She reaches out for me and I go to her, sitting on the side of her bed, just as I did when I would come home from a date as a teenager.  I'm here, I say.  How are you feeling?  Do you need anything?


A drink of water with ice she says.  I go downstairs and return with a fresh cup of ice water.  I offer medication, morphine, which she gladly accepts.  I wonder, do I give it to her so she'll feel better, or do I give it to her so I don't have to watch her suffer.  Both, I guess, and I think a brave person would give it to her just to make her feel better.


...and then she asks me if it is time?  Is she dying, she asks?


...I smooth her hair back and feel the warmth of her forehead.


...and then I think of what a brave person would say...


 ...but instead I say...


...no, not yet...

I think it's starting...

...to be a problem.




I keep zoning out and I'm not really paying attention.




 ...for example...




I wasn't really listening to the conversation between Matthew and Lauren on the way home from Madison's birthday party.  I knew they were talking, but I was thinking of what I might find when I got home.  Then Lauren said something that brought me back.  She assigned her 8th grade health class to write a list of their top 5 stresses.  Lauren said one of the girls came up to her desk and asked how to spell the word, "dying"?  Lauren told her and then asked why she needed to know.  She said her mother died last year, one day after her thirteenth birthday.




...and I then I zoned out again, thinking about how grateful I am that I have had my mother for so long.




...and then I was thinking that I'm still not ready...


...and then I wondered what I would do if I needed to tell her something next week, or next year and I go upstairs to tell her and she's not there...



... and then I thought that someone's life is never long enough for those who are loved...




...not yet...


...not today...

It wasn't a sound....

....that woke me, rather it was the quiet.  




I lay in the dark listening and after a few minutes I knew the hum of the oxygen machine was not there.  I wondered why she had turned it off.  I rolled over to look at the time, 3:13 a.m. and I slowly, quietly, so as not to wake Matthew, crawled out of bed and felt for the door handle in the dark.  I went to her room to check on her, the light in the hall providing just enough light to see her.  Her breathing was slow and steady, so still, but never the less, she was still breathing.




I felt my way back to bed and remembered something my Aunt Arlene had said once.  It was during one of my many visits back to Minneola to see my grandmother.  My grandmother hadn't known me for years.  I looked in her eyes, familiar, green and kind.  I wondered where she had gone, the grandmother that I had spent so much of my youth with.  I could see her in front of me.  She looked the same, but she saw nothing that was familiar to her, nothing that would pull her back from the world of Alzheimers. 




I raised a spoon to her lips, which she slowly opened and I gently slid a spoon full of chocolate pudding into her mouth.  She lets out a long, mmm.  I had to laugh.  I thought of the Bush trait of loving chocolate, anytime, anywhere.  I wondered if she had done the same for me when I was a baby?  She had taken care of me and she loved me, of course she had fed me.  It was an honor to do the same for her.  Yet, I longed for some sign of recognition in her eyes, a hint of a smile that would tell me she knew I was there.  Nothing.






It was then my aunt said a phrase that I am reminded of today, "Once a man, twice a child."  Yes, I understand now, on a new level, what it means to be twice a child.  I checked on my mother just as I had checked on my children at night, tucking them in, making sure they were safe.  






I slowly drifted off to sleep again, but when I got up this morning, the first thing I did was check on her.  Still sleeping, oxygen machine back on.  It told me she had gotten up in the night again and I hadn't heard her.  That worried me, that she might have needed me, but I had slept through it.  




...I think I hear her, she's up.  I'll go and check on her and let her know I'm here.

I always wanted a sister...

...when I was growing up.  Someone to share my deepest secrets with and someone who would be brutally honest with me and let me know when my skirt made me look fat.  A sister to be my best friend through the thick and thin of things.




Then as I grew older and had 3 daughters, I realized having a sister wouldn't have always been the heaven I envisioned.




Sometimes a sister will borrow a piece of clothing and not return it or she will wear your new shoes before you, scuffing the toe.  Sometimes they take up more than their fare share of the bathroom mirror or take so long in the shower that you don't get any mirror time at all.




...and you know that brutal honesty I mentioned earlier...well maybe that's taking sisterly love a little too far.




I just watched my girls quietly from a distance (self-preservation) and let them work things out...






...and they always did...




...and they love each other...




...so much so that they would kill someone trying to hurt their sister...




...or give the ultimate sacrifice...




...give her their hair if she goes bald...

.....sisters..... 

...then a few weeks ago, I had a particularly bad moment with my mom.  My feelings were hurt and I went to my room to sulk, wishing I could call that sister I never had and tell her what our mother had said to me.




....I spent the rest of the evening hidden away, feeling sorry for myself...




...the next morning I was still pouting...




...when I walked into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup, there was a post-it with D's handwriting on it...

...it's still there on the mirror...




...ready to greet me every morning...




...a bit of sunshine...




...and suddenly I realized I do have a sister...




....actually 5 of them...




...and if I ever needed it, I know they would give me their hair.


 

If I could do anything...

...I wanted today...


...I would go here...

(well, not to the hospital, but to their home)(however, if Andy's at the hospital,we would go there and have lunch with him)







Now go back and look again at the beautiful woman in the middle.





She is their center, she is their world, she is everything to them.




...and she is my friend and I've really been feeling like I need some Shay time.




So I was just thinking about what I would do if I could fly away to OH today...




...we would make this headboard....






...and then we would go here...


http://www.oaksbotanicalspa.com/Nail_Clinic.htm



...and then we would eat a whole batch of chocolate chip cookie dough...





...while we watch a really good chick flick, of course....






...and then we would play a game of this...







...and then we would go shopping here...




http://cleveland.citysearch.com/profile/35735584/rocky_river_oh/target.html



..and we would laugh a lot and at the end we would cry.



...but that's OK too, because it just means we love each other.



...and that's what I would do today if I could.

Hoarding...

...and other excuses...




...for my less than kind attitude.  Not only am I struggling with being kind, I almost lost it at Wells Fargo Bank (*#%*?^ bank) because they said I had to bring my bed ridden mother in to cash her own $200 check, never mind she has thousands and thousands in her account that I wasn't trying to steal and never mind I have done this for her for years without a problem and never mind I had all her account info and never mind that they made a mistake  and looked up the wrong account to begin with and never mind that I am about to have a major melt down in a very public setting!  But since I'm trying to not be a crazy woman, I'm not going to tell you how I handled the bank issue.  Stupid bank...yes, I said the "S" word, so don't let my grandkids read this blog post.



...there I feel better...




...but that's not what this post is about.




...it's really about this...

My living room currently looks like someone's home that needs a makeover, redo or even, possibly, an Oprah intervention for hoarding.  You remember how I shared my deep, dark secret about the kitchen pantry.  Well, just across the hall from there is our coat, game, puzzle, glove, vacuum, vacuum accessory and binocular closet.


There...you have it...another family secret.  Evidence of former lives in this home include, ski jackets with 2002-3 lift passes still attached, assorted faces that have fallen out of the Guess Who game box, re-gifted gift bags from Aubrey's wedding(really, I'm serious, there was a white lacy gift bag with Aubrey's name written on the little card on the handle),  a puzzle piece that appears to be a dog's paw that will never be put in the right box, the hat from Monopoly along with several hundred dollars that fell from the ripped end of the game of Life box and tax records from 1999.  I even found a folder containing several pages of kindergarten handwriting, Preston's name scrawled across the top(just in case you forgot, Preston is in 6th grade now).



...and why, you ask, am I blogging about another mess in my home.  It's because no matter how bad the living room looks(including the washer and dryer in the entry),

....it doesn't look as bad as this.....

...................

....there, you have it, my excuse for poor behavior.

...but wait, I see something...

...way down there...

...it's a light...

...at the end of the tunnel!

...Ooops, what I meant to say is...

...there are nine new lights hanging from the ceiling of my kitchen...

...along with yards and yards of new Pex(if you don't know what that is, call me, because I now know all about Pex, sill seal, fittings and what aisle they are on at Home Depot, and if you see Katy at Home Depot, tell her I said hello.  She and I became good friends during my 11 visits there last Saturday.)

...and all of this is courtesy of my engineer son, Michael

...and my equally talented son-in-law, soon to be engineer, Caleb.

...so when I came home from church on Sunday and found this scrawled on the inside of the outside wall of the kitchen, I had a good cry. I don't know why, but typically I don't cry during the trial, it's usually after the dust has settled that I finally let it all out...

..but Sunday was the day.

Maybe Mike knew something I didn't know...

...that I needed to know I really deserve a new kitchen.  Maybe he knew I had been feeling guilty spending A LOT of money on something that I will enjoy more than anyone else.  Maybe he knew it would be good for me to know how much he cares about me.

............

The sheetrock is going up today and his message will be hidden from sight, but when I am having a downer day, I can look at the shiny new maple cabinets and know there is a hidden treasure behind them.

...a little gift among a lot of new gifts...

...a little expression of love that will help me through the difficult times to come.

Thank you Michael...

...for everything!

And now...

...for the rest of the story.


If you haven't read the post before this post, read this first, then come back to this post.


Now that you've read that, you will understand why this was great. This one may go down in history as one of my favorite stories, a moment of laughter shared with Lauren.  It gave me something to chuckle about in the dark of the night last night, as I lay there listening to the drone of the oxygen machine in my mother's room.


...so I was telling Lauren about the whole shopping experience with Aubrey and D. and how it was awesome to see D. have to admit she was defeated by a two year old red head.  I went on and on, kind of like this story, about the Buzz Lightyear shoes and how Cam loves Buzz and how it was game over when he saw them, even before they were on his feet.


...and then the subject changed to how 7th graders can be so irreverent, obnoxious and self-centered and how much we love them anyway.


...and after a few moments of discussion, Grandma Great suddenly asked...


..."Why would Danielle buy Cameron a pair of shoes that have Bud Lite on them?"

...


The only thing that would have made the moment better is if Shay had been there.  One good snort and it would have been the perfect moment.

If your clocks were off last night...

...I can tell you why.


...there was a wrinkle in the comic universe yesterday.  (yes I said C-O-M-I-C universe (I said what I mean and I mean what I said)).


D., with her great sense of style, always said her kids would never wear character clothing, never, not a Dora or a Pooh, not on a shirt or a skirt, not even on a pocket. 


...but all that great sense of style couldn't prevent what happened yesterday....


D. took her great sense of style and went shopping yesterday with Aubrey, who has a great sense of the common.


Common sense that is...


...common sense that says when the 2 year old red head sees the Buzz Light Year Shoes...


...Buzz is going home on those feet.



All the pleading and bargaining in the world couldn't stop what was happening.  D. frantically grabbing shoes of the shelves, boxes flying, tags ripping, thinking fast and talking even faster with Cameron imploring him to try on the black and white Converse, pleading with him to try on the cute green galoshes, anything...anything, just not Buzz.


(don't get me wrong, D. loves Buzz, he's in the toy box along with Woody and Fancy Nancy, but D seems to have an allergic reaction when she sees one of her kids wearing clothes with characters on them, she starts hyperventilating, her eyes glaze over and she has to make a therapeutic dash to Dillard's before it's too late)


...back to Target, yesterday, about 11:00 a.m....


...I stood in line with them at the register, in awe of the moment that D. handed the cashier a twenty.


...and that's when it happened, time stopped, for just a split second and Aubrey and I laughed...


...Cam jumped out of the cart, red and blue lights flashing, and time suddenly stopped for a split second...


...and I swear I heard Cameron yell, ''...to infinity, and beyond"!


...and that's why your clocks are wrong!

It happened again

...last night.



My mother called my name, no, really she cried out for me, urgently, and I could hear the fear in her voice.  I tried to jump out of bed, but someone had tied the sheets around my ankles.  I struggled and struggled, kicking, my heart pounding and then she cried out again.



...and I start to cry.



Why would someone tie sheets around my ankles?  Why can't I stand up?  What's happening?  I have to get to her.  She needs me.



Matthew reaches out and touches my arm pulling me out of the darkness of a bad dream.  The familiar touch of someone I have lain next to for 35 years is enough.  He knows to just touch me and I will come back to where I really am.  The warmth of his hand slows my heart and my breathing starts to follow his slow, relaxed pace.



...and I spend the rest of the night with the word ringing through my head...



...hospice.

What do a fish, sunglasses, purple dress and Nancy...

...all have to do with each other?




They were gifts Amelia received for her birthday.






...but there is one gift that shines brighter than all the wonderful store bought gifts Amelia received last night for her 2nd birthday.

 

You know the saying, "It is better to give than to receive"?


Last night was evidence to that.


There was a jumble of activity at the Classic Fun Center in Layton.  Children, like gaggles of geese on roller blades, swirled around the skating rink.  Music blared and a voice on the speaker system was drowned out by the roar of happy children rocking the building.



When the time came for opening gifts, the givers were excited to watch Amelia find out the secrets hidden in brightly wrapped boxes and under mounds of tissue paper.  Cousins gathered, grandma's camera flashed, aunts and uncles smiled and Amelia, perched on her dad's lap began pulling bows and ripping paper.



The real treasure was in a small, former band-aid box.  And the giver of this home-made gift, Emry, could hardly contain her excitement as she handed it to her best friend, her sister Amelia.



With the help of her dad, Amelia opened the box and pulled out a brightly beaded bracelet just her size.  She smiled as she rolled it over her fingers and on to her wrist.  However, the biggest smile was Emry's as she watched Amelia.



Emry had told her mother she wanted to make her sister a bracelet several days ago.  Erin, because of how amazing she is, knew just what to do to help Emry make something special.  With just a few beads and a pipe cleaner, Emry fashioned a beautiful piece of jewelry that she had such pride in giving.  I could just imagine the determination it took Emry as she picked up each bead, pink dolphins, blue bears and orange stars, and focused on fitting the fuzzy pipe cleaner into the tiny holes.



After it was opened and we all realized what it was, the attention immediately turned to Emry as we told her how pretty it was and how lucky Amelia was to have her for a sister.  The joy on Emry's face was precious.

...and part of the excitement in making and giving Amelia a gift, was in keeping it a secret.  A girl always knows she can count on her daddy to not tell anyone.

...and now the rest of the evening's photos.

........

Lucky 7th graders...

...only thing missing here is Porter(big sigh)

...the birthday girl

...the fish, courtesy of Uncle Caleb and Aunt Lala

...the bracelet

...being the princess can be exhausting

I was having camera issues last night and when I tried to fix them on the computer Emry, Abbie and Sam ended up with dead shark eyes. Yuck! 

...guy talk

...pretty Caleb

...but not as pretty as Emry

Years from now, long after the bracelet has been lost at the bottom of the toybox(then again, knowing Erin, that bracelet will never get lost.  It will be kept in a safe place for Amelia to enjoy forever), I will show Emry the picture of Amelia, smiling, wearing her gift and tell her how she did something so special for someone she loved so much.

...I will tell her a gift is something we give, because we care about the person we give it to, we don't expect anything in return and for a true gift from the heart, we have had to sacrifice in some way to provide the gift.

...and I will tell her that she taught me a great lesson about gifts from the heart being the most special of all, especially if it is made with a pipe cleaner and some brightly colored beads.