Mothering Men (to be), Marriage, and Miscellany: June 2015

Monday, June 22, 2015

Day 748

June 22, 2015

Day 748

It's a humid, rainy Monday.

Which means it's a good thing that I decided last week to go natural with my hair. Because it would sure be going natural in this weather today, anyway!

There was the video circling FB in the last couple of weeks entitled something like, "Wait until you see what she does to her hair with this t-shirt!" I eventually watched the video which ended up being an instructional piece on something called, "plopping." The idea is that you wash your hair before bed, work some inexpensive products through your hair, and then wrap your head in a t-shirt. In the morning you should have gorgeous curls.

I tried it and it worked! Never in my entire life have I ever gone natural with my head because I always end up with frizz. I have spent my entire teen and adult years trying to subdue my curly hair.

Of course, if I ever remarry, I'm not sure how this will work. I look pretty crazy every night with a t-shirt wrapped around my skull. I have a feeling that would be somewhat detrimental to the whole bedroom experience.

But in the meantime, I'm saving quite a bit of time by not needing to shower in the morning (Maybe this will also show up in decreased water usage on my next bill?) and standing in front of the mirror blowdrying and smoothing my hair into obedience.

I had a hair appointment today and my stylist went crazy when she saw my hair. I don't think she even knew it was really this curly. She wants me to grow it out a bit, which was one of my questions for her. I'm afraid that keeping my hair as short as it has been will result in me looking like lollipop. I definitely don't want an 80s permed white Afro look. But with that, I am concerned that 44 is much too old to wear my hair longer than my chin.

But then Sarah made my day. She informed me that 1) natural hair is "in" right now 2) I don't look 44 and 3) I need to look at my lifestyle right now. I am a mom of very young children. That's what people see when they look at me, she said, and because of that it won't seem odd for me to have a little bit longer hair.

She snipped a couple of dry ends and told me not to come back for 4 months. And she wouldn't take any money because she said she didn't do anything. I like her.

And now I've spent more than 9 paragraphs blabbing about my hair, which probably indicates its level of importance in my life. Of course, I'm not the only one. At this very moment, Lizzie is on Youtube, perusing videos on beading black hair. I tried my hand at that for the first time on her head last week and she loved it.

I guess hair is pretty important to we female types. At least us curly-headed ones. I imagine women with straight hair don't have to give theirs much thought at all.

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I got my porch painting project finished over the weekend. It used to be all light gray, the color of the old siding. I don't remember if I painted that or not. I know I never touched the ceiling. Whoever painted that last (white) didn't go all the way to the edges and you could see the light blue paint poking out there. I read once it is or was, at least, a southern tradition, to the paint the porch ceiling a light blue. Not sure why - maybe to mimic the sky? But up here in Iowa, we're a far ways from being a southern state.

Anyway, my porch is now black - the outside wood and the three posts. And the ceiling is now red. I really do like it. My deck chairs are all bright red, the door is too, and I have a red pillow on the porch swing. I also repainted my wooden H that I have on the bench out there to be the same shade as the ceiling and door. It's probably pretty easy to figure out my favorite color!

But, I think I may have just painted my house to look like a brothel.

Maybe I just need a lamp in the window with a red scarf over it? Hah...I might start having problems with my neighbor again if I do that...

I injured myself in the weirdest way doing this project. I didn't fall off the ladder and I didn't trip over the can of paint. I was wrapping up the paint tray with plastic wrap so it wouldn't dry out overnight and I could use it again the next day. So I was standing on the ladder with the box of wrap, wrapping the tray that was sitting on top of the ladder when the box dropped. I could feel it scraping against my leg and especially my knee, but didn't really think anything of it. This was close to 9pm on Friday night so I couldn't see real well anymore. After I finished and picked up the box from the porch floor I did notice what I thought were drops of red paint on my knee. It wasn't. It was blood! The serrated edge of the plastic wrap box was so sharp that it really did a number on my left knee as it tumbled off the ladder. Three days later and my knee is still pretty tender!

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After I got my hair done today (well, not that she really did anything) I ran to Walmart to get a $110 worth of stuff and to pick up a birthday present for Ellie I had ordered on-line. Then, I drove out to the country to some people from church's house. Jay helped me charge my air conditioner. I didn't even know you could do this at home. Saturday it was really hot and humid and it sure didn't seem like my AC was keeping up very well. I figured I'd have to take my van to the shop but wasn't quite sure how I was going to manage that. So I talked with this guy at church yesterday and he told me he thought he could fix it for me and told me what to buy. It turned out that I was really low on freon and it worked wonderfully all the way home. All for a $23 bottle of Freon from Walmart!

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And for another good deal... I heard from my propane company last week that my budget amount for the next year has fallen by $25 a month. In addition, I didn't have to pay in April or May. I finally called them last week wondering where my bill was and they said I was all caught up. I'm just now figuring how this budget thing with the propane company works. This must have been a good year because in that same letter it also said that all unpaid balances have to be taken care of before the start of the new billing cycle. So that leads me to think that there may be some years when a chunk of money would be owed in April or May instead of not having to pay those months.

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I got home today and Deb, my friend, and Ben's SCL provider was at my house. She had come to work with Ben and was sitting on the couch with Sam and Ellie because she is a real favorite of all the Littles. She commented to me on what a "pistol" Ellie is and how I am going to have to really keep my thumb on her for probably all her growing up years. She said she'd had to "get after" Ellie while I was gone and hoped she wasn't overstepping. I told her to please feel free to do that anytime at all! Deb then echoed my own thoughts about how different the girls are. Lizzie has settled down, relinquishing her desire for control, and has a very tender heart and a desire to please those in authority. Ellie, on the other hand...

Some people keep telling me Ellie's behavior is a "phase" but I am not so sure about that anymore. She has been pretty awful since she turned 3 a year ago. There are some periods of time where it is worse, but it's fairly consistent. I've tried to step back and look at her, wondering if there is something I'm not seeing - like autism or some mental challenges. But I do not believe that is the case. It's not her brain, it's her heart.

Last week I just happened to be in the kitchen when Ellie got mad at Lizzie and quick as as wink, she shot her fist upward and extended her middle finger at her sister. I have never seen a preschooler do that, let alone one of my preschoolers! I don't even have a clue where she would have learned that!

Today I've let her have a little bit more freedom, but from about last Wednesday on, I made her follow me around the house and pretty much sit and do nothing all day long. I explained to her that until she's trustworthy, I can't let her go off and play on her own because that's when she does terrible things - like coloring on furniture, crushing new bags of chips, cutting doll hair, throwing paint at windows...just to name a few, recent offenses.

Our family has a pretty good name in the Pville school district but I am fearful that's about to go down the tubes once Ellie starts school. Of course, that's pride talking. I suppose I should be more concerned about the state of her heart than our good name!

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The other day my friend and neighbor, Charlotte, called me. She had a box of beauty supplies for me. She has a friend, who is elderly and, apparently, not all that concerned about her money. This woman sits all alone in her apartment and orders stuff off QVC all the time. Then, most of it unopened, she mails it to Charlotte who has started passing it along to me. This time I ended up with so much anti-aging moisturizing cream that I'll be looking like I'm 30 when I'm 100! If the stuff doesn't go rancid before then, that is. These are all very high quality products, too. It's really beyond my understanding how someone could do this. If I had money to burn I think I'd rather give away to some worthy organization than buy face products I'll never use. But I am happy to be the benefactor of her foolishness, I guess.

So, I sorted through the stuff the other day with Lizzie. I gave a lot of the actual make-up to her and she was over-the-moon with excitement about that. I kept enough for myself so that it will be quite awhile before I need to visit the Clinique counter again, though. I boxed up most of the moisturizers, thinking they will last me a few years. And then some stuff I just threw out. I knew it was like throwing money in the garbage but it was stuff I'd never use - eye creams, wrinkle serums, lip plumpers - stuff like that. Lizzie rescued a tube from the garbage and asked me what it was. I explained it was a facial masque. She asked, "Is it supposed to make you look younger?" and I told her that was the idea. She then said, "Well, you should use this Mom!" I told her I didn't have time for that. I've got my beauty regimin down to a routine and it doesn't allow time for things like that.

Lizzie then exclaimed, "But, Mom - how are you going to find a man, then?!" Oh, I about died! Where did she get that in her head?

She then mused that if she used the masque on her own skin she might come out looking like a two year old! She rarely intends to be funny, but she cracks me up quite a bit!

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I have two maps hanging in the basement, one of the United States and a world map. It seems like the proper, "homeschool" thing to do. Don't all, good, homeschooling moms have at least one map displayed in their homes? Hah! Actually, I've been surprised by how taken my kids are with those things.

One day last week Ellie asked me to show her on the map where Daddy lives.

Sigh...

Yesterday was Father's Day. And it was hard. I remember the first Father's Day after Paul's death. It came just five days after the funeral. We pretty much ignored it, other than to buy a small, "Happy Father's Day" balloon at Hy-Vee. We stuck it in the freshly disturbed earth that housed Paul. I haven't done that since. Maybe I should. I don't remember much about last year, if Father's Day bothered me much or not. But this year it did and that kind of surprised me.

I felt bad for the kids and I felt bad for me. When they had all the dads stand up in church I didn't want to look at them because all I saw was the empty spot in our pew where someone no longer stood. The sermon was miserable for me because it was all about the importance of a father. I know how important a dad is and it kills me that I can't give that to my kids. I don't even do that great of a job of fulfilling my role as mom - I'm not even going to try to be Dad, too. Afterwards, they had gift cards for all the dads, so I cut around the line and dashed out of the church as quickly as I could. Maybe next year we'll stay home on Father's Day.

We went on our postponed - from -the-anniversary-of-the-funeral-day picnic afterwards, which was nice, even though it was sticky out. We got fried chicken and other junky foods from Hy-Vee, loaded up the bikes, and went down to the park in Pville. Maybe that's when we should do this annual picnic, anyway.

I texted Will to let him know he was missing out on our picnic with the fried chicken and he texted back to say we were the ones missing out because he was enjoying an elk and bacon burger.

He didn't say anything about Father's Day.

A couple people did offer encouragement to me yesterday. I appreciated that after this length of time, there are still those sensitive to what the day can mean to us. An older friend at church pressed a note into my hand last night that read, "You are such a good mom." I will treasure that always. I think I may hang it in my house, actually, so I can read the affirmation frequently. I appreciate the thought, even if it's not really all that true.

It occurred to me today that I am now in my third summer of widowhood. Doesn't seem like there should have been this many of them already. I guess time goes by quickly when you're spending most of your time figuring out simply how to survive.

And I am...surviving.

I think I'm actually doing a little bit more than that these days.

It's a good thing.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Day 743

June 17, 2015

Day 743

It's clouding up. I think it's going to rain. Again. It's been raining so much I haven't had time to do any more painting on the porch or to cover up the gutter I painted - that the rain keeps washing the paint off of. But I haven't had a whole lot of time for painting, either. Things have been kind of crazy, like normal.

I went up to camp last Friday to collect Ben. He was eating lunch when we arrived so we waited. His poor counselor seemed so stressed so I finally asked him if it had been a hard week. He said it had been but some of that was due to stuff outside of camp. He had never worked with special needs individuals before so the week was a real eye-opener for him. I thought about pointing out to him that it's not a real picnic raising one, either, but I didn't. Because, the truth is, being a counselor to a handful of guys for a few days and parenting a child with special needs are far, far apart in scope and experience. Kevin, the counselor, did say that of all the guys in his cabin Ben was the easiest and most mature. He said one day he couldn't find Ben anywhere and finally discovered him exiting the cabin. He asked Ben where he had been and Ben slowly and seriously replied, "Well, I needed a Fig Newton." Those have always been Ben's favorite cookie, so he came well-stocked. Anyway, that kind of tickled his counselor.

One of the Ben's cabin mates was eating his lunch when we were there and he pointed at the Littles and asked me if they were all mine. I told him they sure were. He sat there for a few minutes and then asked, "But how come, but how come..." and Kevin jumped in, anticipating the question, "Eat your food, Mike!" But Mike continued, "How come they don't look like you?" Ha, ha, ha! I think this is the first time I've ever actually encountered that very natural question. When I explained to him the girls were adopted he was perfectly fine with that and was content to then eat his food. Counselor Kevin, on the other hand, seemed a bit embarrassed.

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Saturday, David came home. I had really been praying about last week for him and those prayers were answered. He was like a different kid when I picked him up - so peaceful. He said he didn't realize all that went into maintaining a camp until this week. I imagine not. He was awarded two weeks, which pleased him.

That means, total, David will be gone for 5 weeks this summer between last week, the weeks he works, Sr. High camp, and his missions trip in August. I'm going to have to get some names and phone numbers of Pleasantville teenagers I could hire to help out with babysitting. Even if I manage to get through this summer on my own, I can see the handwriting on the wall. David's life is only going to get busier and busier in the next few years, which means he won't be available as much for watching the Littles. It's going to be awhile before they are old enough to stay home alone.

Or, I guess I could just start staying home.

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Ellie continues her current reign of terror. Her birthday is coming up and I always post a picture of the kids on my timeline with a little paragraph about what I appreciate about them on their actual birthday. I'm thinking ahead of what I might say about her and I am just coming up empty. I can't think of one good thing to say about this kid right now. Isn't that terrible?

She took a brand new, "Family size" (hah - if your family only has 1.7 children maybe) bag of Doritos ($3.89 at Walmart) and for absolutely no good reason, stomped all over the bag until the chips were crushed. And so far, this has actually been a "good" week for her.

Sigh...

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Ben's case manager was over this morning. She had this new, "risk assessment" form DHS is making her fill out on each of her clients so we had to go through that. There were lots of questions on Ben's health and behaviors. But then she asked if we had knives in the home and laughed and said, well of course you do - every kitchen has knives. I agreed. I do, indeed, have knives in my kitchen. But then the next question was if we have guns and if so, are they kept locked up. I told her I was trying to determine the need for such a question. Is the state simply wondering if Ben has access to weapons that he might decide to use improperly or is this question more intrusive in nature, a tool of the gun control proponents? She didn't know - she was just following orders. I was honest and told her we do have guns and yes, they are properly stored and locked at all times. But, I also pointed out to her the kitchen knives are laying in an unlocked drawer and accessible to even my 3 year old if she thought that was something she wanted to mess with. For that matter, we have hammers and saws and chemicals out in the garage - all of which can cause injury in the wrong hands.

I'm not a conspiracy theorist and I don't worry about Big Brother monitoring my Facebook or phone records. But this kind of question kind of sets my teeth on edge.

That said, I have nothing against my case manager. She's new to us and seems to be doing a fine job. I've been fighting with HIRTA who don't think they should have to provide transportation for Ben's ride home from Pella. He starts tomorrow and because of that I will have to make an hour and a half round trip to bring him home. As far as I know, I've run out of appeal options. It doesn't make sense to me because COC is in our same county and Ben is entitled to transportation services. But some things you just can't fight. I suppose in some ways, it's my own fault because I could have Ben receive all his services in Indianola, which is closer (although out of county) and then I wouldn't have a transportation issue. But he wants to go to Pella and if he's capable of knowing his own desires then I want to accommodate them as much as possible. Anyway, this new case manager of mine is really on the issue. She has made a number of phone calls on our behalf and is hopeful that we're going to be able to work this out with HIRTA or some other transportation company. But it won't be in time for tomorrow.

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A bunch of guys from church came out last Saturday and worked on the garage, pulling off the old siding and putting up sheeting, and wrapping the thing. They even got most of one side sided. I was out there for a little bit, pulling off the old stuff - nasty, dry, and crumbling . I was afraid it might be termite infested, but it wasn't. I did find a couple of old wasp's nests under the siding. It's not even done yet but it looks SO much better than that eyesore I've been looking at for almost 11 years!

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I was tired one day last week and laying down on the loveseat. Lizzie came over to me and started giving me a facial massage. I have no idea where she learned to do something like that, but it felt so-o-o good. Before I knew it, I was dozing. When I woke up, she and Ellie were doing my make-up and hair. I looked a little scary.

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I have our summer vacation planned now. I couldn't do this until I knew David's work schedule at camp. We're just going away for 3 days to a KOA campground in Nebraska. I'm a little nervous because this time I won't have Will to help. But I think I can do it. The campground looks like fun. They have all sorts of free activities and fun things to do. I'm also going to take the kids to the zoo and Children's Museum in Omaha. I had hoped to visit friends while out there but I just don't think we're going to have the time. We won't be gone very long. We're renting a little cabin. The older boys want me to buy a camper. This is a compromise. They can still get their camping experience and I have running water, air conditioning, and wi-fi.

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Sunday Lizzie was looking at me and asked, "Has anyone told you yet today..." And then she paused. I was wearing a brand new top out of my most recent Stitch Fix box and felt pretty confident as a result. So, I mentally supplied the last of her sentence in my head with, "how nice you look?" And then Lizzie continued, "...how tired you look?" Talk about being deflated!

Although, if anyone had reason to be tired that day, it wasn't me! Arien's sister let it drop Sunday morning that the night before, Will and Arien had been on the phone for FIVE hours, until 4 am Sunday morning! I teased Will about that later and he replied, "Well, if anyone should understand, it should be you!" I do, I really do, but I don't recall any five hour phone conversations with Paul, either, while we were dating. Of course, back then you had to pay for your long distance calling. That might have had something to do with it.

My boy has got it bad...

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Elisabeth Elliot died Monday morning. That makes me happy - for her, of course. I remember reading, "Through Gates of Splendor" when I was around 11 or 12. I read a lot of her books throughout the years. Probably the biggest influence this woman had on my life, though, was the 15 minute daily radio program she used to host. I listened to this every single day in those early years of marriage and parenthood. In fact, I can remember where I was driving in Omaha when I heard her talking about the necessity of "doing the next thing" when trials and great grief arrive. When you don't know what do, you do what you do know to do. When Paul died, that phrase, "Do the next thing" would leap into my mind in Elisabeth's voice over and over again in the first few months and so, I would get up and feed the kids breakfast or make a needed phone call. I didn't know what next week would bring, but I knew what needed to be done right now. I still think about that phrase from time to time.

I don't know if Paul has had a chance to speak with her or not. I rather imagine there's a lot of saints desiring some of her time. But when he does, I hope he thanks her for the better wife and mother I became as a result of her ministry.

This afternoon I met with Marcia and we were talking about Elisabeth's death. Marcia actually jotted down one of her quotes (that I left out in the van, otherwise I'd copy it here) she thought I could use. Marcia made the comment that if Elisabeth had not been widowed like she was, she probably would not have had the ministry and tremendous impact that she did on the world. Hmm...something to think about.

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Yesterday, Lizzie and I had to run some errands. We both needed some new shorts and capris to get through summer and my vacuum needed replacing. We were eating lunch and I asked her if she was ok with the fact that I had changed her name at adoption. That's something I worry about from time to time, wondering if I did the right thing. A name is really kind of an integral part of someone's identity and to just go changing it...I don't know. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do and Paul and I seemed to have some valid reasons for choosing to do that. But since then I've wondered if I was too hasty in making that kind of decision. Surprised, Lizzie exclaimed that yes, she was glad we had changed her name. She liked "Elizabeth" a whole lot better than her birth name! Then, slyly, she asked, "What you say if I told you that I wished you hadn't changed it?" Ha, ha...smart girl.

Then, Lizzie asked me a question. She said, "Have you ever wished you never adopted us?"

Be still, my heart...

I was honest. I told her that adoption was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. And I told her I imagined that getting adopted was probably very difficult, too, adjusting to a whole new family and environment. Lizzie nodded in agreement. I also told her that parenting, in general, can be hard, regardless of whether the kids are adopted or biological.

As parents, we lie to our kids all the time. It's part of the role, I think.

That was the best catch in the entire history of Little League!

You are the sweetest little girl alive!

How did you know that all I wanted for my birthday was this perfect drawing of zombies eating villagers?!

You are the smartest five year old I have ever met!

No, of course I don't mind giving up my planned girls night out so that I can watch you sing...for five seconds...in the choir

And so on. My mind did a quick replay of the last three years - Lizzie being a pill for much of the first couple of years, Paul's death which changed parenting for me, Ellie's propensity toward destructiveness and lying, the fatigue, the near constant feelings of failure...

I then told Lizzie the honest and absolute truth which is that I have never regretted my decision to adopt her and her sister.

Not even once.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Day 736

June 10, 2014

Day 736

I am feeling accomplished this week - unlike last week when I got absolutely nothing done. It was VBS week and it had been 3 yrs since I last worked. I had forgotten how tiring it is. And I don't quite understand that. I worked with the 4 and 5 year olds which were not a huge group. We averaged about a dozen every night. My only job was to teach them the night's memory verse and just kind of help oversee everything. It wasn't like I was running myself ragged every night.

But I was tired! I had grouchy kids (my own) because they were getting to sleep late every night. I had the impending arrival of Paul's death date hanging over my head, so I suppose that may have played into my fatigue levels, emotionally, anyway. I had to do the water billing and get ready for the city council meeting, which took time out of a couple of days. And then I decided it was a good idea to do my monthly grocery shopping the same week, too. Never again!

But this week I have gotten caught up on my laundry and the housework. Today I am actually painting my porch, which I like seeing the results, although I am not enjoying the labor so much. My friend Danielle and I got the pool up and running over yesterday and today so the kids are happy about that, esp. since it's been in the 90s yesterday and today.

I did have one nice day last week. I went shopping and did lunch with Arien (Will's girlfriend). What a blessing that time with her was! I'm thinking that maybe this something that I should do with all the kids when they start bringing home their future spouses. I just want to start things off right.

I always thought I had the best mother-in-law. She genuinely seemed to love me and very rarely offered any advice or criticism - to my face, anyway. She took an interest in the things I was interested in and was always willing to babysit. In the end, she turned on me and decided I was to blame for Paul's death, which has been devastating, but I still want to be the kind of MIL she was for all those good years. She was always a good example to me of how that role should be performed. Even though I know the day that I actually become a mother-in-law is some ways off in the future yet, I find myself thinking more about Paul's mom these days.

Of course, this first time around with Arien I have the added blessing of already knowing her and sharing a number of interests. She's a very easy person to love and the fact that I prayed for this relationship with Will just makes the whole thing so much sweeter. I am very thankful for the way God has worked in all our lives.

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All three of the older boys are up at camp this week, which has made for differing dynamics here at home with just having the Littles. I find that I am a little more scared at night. I'm also having to do more work! Will is up there full-time, of course. I won't see him again until mid-July, unless I catch a glimpse of him Friday when I retrieve Ben. Ben is at Special Camp, of which he had mixed feelings about attending. He'd rather go to Sr. High camp, but without Paul to help him, I don't see that as a real option. Plus, Will pointed out to me that there are a lot of activities Ben couldn't begin to participate in. When he attended Jr. High camp with Pastor two years ago, Pastor mentioned that a couple of the camp leaders approached Ben about the idea of attending Special Camp the following year, which he did do. I think that, all around, Special Camp is the best place for him, even if the teaching is a bit below Ben's level.

Will became very, very good friends with a guy at Faith this year named Kyle. Kyle has several brothers - all their names start with "K." One is married to the daughter of a friend of mine, actually. Well, I was delighted when Ben's counselor walked into the dorm Monday and it was Kyle's brother, Kevin! I mentioned to him that Will was on staff this summer so if he had any questions or concerns he could address them with Will and Kevin got excited and said, "Heywood! I knew it!" And then he turned to me and said, "You're Will's mom?!" Anyway, I felt like I was leaving Ben in good hands. I texted Will later and told him who Ben had for a counselor and he said he was hoping it would work out that way when he found out Kevin was going to counsel.

And David is up there this week participating in the Water and Work week where teenagers can try out for part-time positions at camp. He had mixed feelings about going, too. I remained neutral on whether or not he should go. On one hand, I think it would be very good for him to work some this summer. Even if he doesn't get any weeks, just being up there this week would be beneficial for him. I fully intend to prod this child into seeking some sort of part-time job this fall and working at camp would be a good start to that process. Of course, having him gone, though, means that I don't have my right hand man here at home! David's been very mopey in recent weeks. I ask him what's wrong and he says, "I don't know!" and I believe him. I don't think he really knows what is bothering him. But then he'll mention things - tiny, insignificant things - later that he has blown up in his mind into great big, dreadful things. I guess I should be glad he still talks to me, at least. He did mention the only reason he agreed to go to Water and Work week was to please Will (whom he adores, desires to emulate, and constantly feels like he cannot measure up to, even if he doesn't admit that to himself). At one point last week he said he hoped he didn't get any weeks to work but then later he said he hoped he did get weeks. So, his emotions are more over the place than mine are. I don't know what causes that in a guy. I don't think they have the hormone fluctuations that we females do. But at any rate, I think it's good he's there this week and I've been praying that God would use this experience in his life for good and for maturing.

The other night. the 6th, we were all up at the cemetery for awhile. David announced he wanted to walk home, which was fine. A couple of days later he told me that he had done that because he "had a lot on my mind." I commented that the solitude is probably why a lot of people enjoy running and walking on a regular basis. David agreed and then added, "Plus, you're all alone." Um, yes...that, too.

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Monday afternoon we got back from taking Ben to camp and I kid you not, it was like a couple of hell's demons followed us into the house. The girls really hadn't been all that awful going up. They were a little spirited at lunch, which was kind of embarrassing because I had also driven my friend, Maureen, because her daughter was attending camp. She insisted on paying for lunch since I drove. I rather imagine she was counting her blessings later that she had stopped with only having three children!

In one afternoon, I dealt with all this:

* Ellie calling Lizzie, "ugly girl" and then lying about it

* Ellie messing with the thermostat so that it showed a big zero instead of the normal 74 degrees. And then lying about it.

* Ellie taking my budget notebook, ripping about 10 sheets out of them, crumpling them, throwing them on the floor. And then lying about it.

* Lizzie had the neighbor girl over and I suddenly hear shrieking coming from the bathroom. I have a rotating, battery-operated face cleaner thing. She and the neighbor girl thought it was a grand idea to use this in the neighbor's hair and it got thoroughly stuck. It took me a good 15 min. to untangle the neighbor girl's hair.

* Ellie took a pen and scribbled on several greeting cards that were on the tv cabinet. And then lied about it.

* Lizzie and Ellie took it upon themselves to wash my van, without asking, which means I now have water spots on the windshield, the van windows, and the kitchen window. I had just washed all those things a couple of days ago.

I am too old for this and I am way too tired for this.

Oh, and then today, Ellie threw paint at the bathroom window. My contractor got the new upstairs bathroom window in the other night but he didn't have enough shims so he cautioned me to not open or touch the window until he gets it firmed up. Well, Lizzie informed me this morning that Ellie had just hurled a container of paint (thimble sized) that she got at VBS at the window. I don't even know why the paint was upstairs in the first place. Ugh! So I very lightly and carefully managed to get most of it off the window without knocking it out and watching it tumble two stories below to hit my van and then the driveway. Thank you, Lord.

This time Ellie didn't lie about it. I guess I should be grateful for that.

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My Stitch Fix box arrived today - always fun! I timed it so I'd have something to look forward to this part of the month. I had to laugh the other day. I sometimes enjoy reading the reviews posted by other SF participants. One was gushing about a dress she had received and she exclaimed, "It can go straight from church to the bar!" Um, not sure what kind of church she goes to, but I have a pretty good idea now...

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One day last week Lizzie really smelled. I sniffed her and realized it was armpit stink. It was more than just B.O. after playing outside. This was deep and pubescent in nature. She's only 6! But I had her put on some deodorant. She was so proud of that and has been bugging me to let her wear it all the time now. I'm not.

Speaking of armpits...the last two times we've been in church I've had sleeveless tops on. Both times, Lizzie has been on the floor for some reason, peered upwards and in a loud whisper announced, "Mom! You have dirty armpits!" It's called stubble, but it's not really something you want to try to explain in church...

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I have this Facebook friend who really isn't a friend in real life. She sent me a friend request because we have some mutual friends and she liked some stuff I had said in reply to them. She's kind of on thin ice with me right now, the more stuff she posts. Last week she posted an article about whether or not it is right for Christians to pledge allegiance to the American flag. I responded and a couple of her friends suggested that I would be happier living in a Muslim country under Sharia law. Nice friends she has. Well, she posed a question last week that I never responded to, but read the replies with interest and then, growing dismay. She asked what were some things regarding Christianity that her friends had once accepted but now rejected. I was appalled at the volume of answers she received. What was so sad was that many of these friends of hers talked about being raised in the church but growing up and then rejecting things like the deity of Christ or the inerrancy of Scripture. A couple claim to be atheists now, even. As I read, it became apparent to me that the majority of respondents were coming from two camps. They struggled with accepting that a loving God can allow hurtful things - and therefore they reject the idea of a God, period. Or, at least, the idea that He's a personal God. The other group seemed to have all been hurt by Christians in one form or another, so therefore Christianity was the inherent problem, not the people. I suppose in some ways, this was good. It made me think. But it really made me sad, too.

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Ellie told me the other day that she knows what her middle name is. I asked her to tell me and she confidently replied, "Elephant!" Her siblings often call her, "Ellie the Elephant" so I suppose that makes sense that she thinks that's actually her name.

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I hurt my ear a week ago and it is still a little sore. I had taken a shower and had water on the ears, so I grabbed a q-tip to soak it up. I put the q-tip in and pain exploded in my head. Basically, what I did was jam a stick down my ear. Quality control wasn't the highest on this box of q-tips (they were the Walmart version of q-tips) and the one I took didn't have a padded tip. You can believe I'll never again use a q-tip without checking! I had to keep a cotton ball in my ear for several days. Fortunately, it was my deaf ear, so I didn't have to worry about damaging my hearing. I never saw any blood or fluid, so I don't think I got deep enough to puncture anything, either. But, wow...

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I was at the store last week with a couple of the kids, picking out Father's Day cards. As I looked for one for my dad, the resentful through arose, "I get to pick out a card for MY dad, but my kids don't get to do that anymore." Sigh...

All week long at VBS I needed to write a nametag for myself. Every single time I wrote, "Mrs. Heywood" I felt funny about it, like I shouldn't be doing that. I almost felt embarrassed. And I know that's dumb. "Mrs." is a title you get to keep even if you don't get to keep your husband. When we were in Florida, one of Ben's classmates asked me if I was a "Mrs" or a "Ms" now that I was widowed. I cheerfully told her it was still, "Mrs." Why didn't that bother me, but writing my nametag did? I don't know. Maybe it was just my mood last week.

Tomorrow is June 11, the anniversary of the funeral. Last year I took the kids on a picnic that day and I think I'll try to do that again tomorrow, if the weather cooperates (scattered showers in the forecast). It's still hard.

I mentioned earlier that on Saturday, which was the anniversary, we all went out to eat, which is what we did last year, and what we'll probably do every year. Arien came with us, which just felt right. I was talking about this with her mother, my friend. And she said something and I wish I could remember it exactly, but I can't. It was something to the effect that this - Will and Arien dating - is the first new, good, and momentous thing that has happened since Paul's death. It's also a promise of a brighter future. I think she's right and that's why it seemed appropriate to include her that night. Of course, I know nothing is ever guaranteed and I know that Will and Arien are just embarking on their journey. A lot can and will happen before anything permanent occurs. But seeing this, early as it is, gives me a sense of hope for a brighter future.

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After thinking about it and talking about it for months, I have started my book.

I did! I am writing a book!

I actually sat down in front of a blank Word document and began typing about ten days ago. I haven't gotten very far, but that's ok. This is going to take awhile.

Amazingly, I already have a title for it. Normally, I have the hardest time titling anything I write. This title actually came to me the summer Paul died and then I was able to very quickly come up with a subtitle when I started typing.

It's his story. It's mine. It's the kids'. And it's an encouragement for other widows that widowhood is not the end.

It's actually a new beginning.

Mothering Men (to be), Marriage, and Miscellany

Monday, June 22, 2015

Day 748

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Day 743

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Day 736

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